My oldest friend’s first memory of me is not a flattering one. It was the first week of year seven and we had to interview each other and present our findings. What was my favourite animal, she inquired reasonably. “I hate all animals,” I replied, “apart from maybe squirrels or frogs.” Twenty-two years later, I would like to plead diminished responsibility. This wasn’t really my view, but that of my mum, who really did hate animals.
So, naturally, we weren’t allowed pets. For a long time, the closest I got was fostering the primary school stick insects during holidays. (I can still tell you the delicate difference between a stick insect poo and an egg. The egg has a dot on it. The other is just a poo.) Then, in year five, I came across Sea-Monkeys. It was the late 90s, and they were marketed as educational toys and sold in bookshops. With all due respect to the late Sea-Monkeys inventor Harold von Braunhut, they are one of history’s greatest cons.
