Even though I’ve lived in Edinburgh for the best part of 15 years, I still have moments when I am struck by its beauty, as if I am new to the place. That’s not to say I don’t feel like a genuine Edinburgh person, but I still find myself in awe of it.

My first impression of Edinburgh was that it was the most “European” city I had been to in the UK. Having been to Prague and Budapest, Edinburgh felt like one of those cities. When I am away for any length of time, I get a real rush when I return.

Certainly, the memories of first arriving remain vivid. In 1989 I had met Francis — who is a Scot — in Australia, where I was born. We lived in Australia for a bit and travelled around southeast Asia for a few years before deciding to go to Scotland for a few months.

That was in 1993. At first, we stayed with Francis’s parents in West Lothian, and then after a couple of months, we decided to live in Edinburgh for a while. At no time did we think we’d be staying in Edinburgh permanently, so we started looking for a flat to rent. We looked at some real dumps, and the place we did get was only a little better; we had to go through this very formal interview with the landlord beforehand. But it was the damp and the cold that really hit me. So much was new — tenement living, a carpet in the bathroom and the damp. Oh my God, the damp.

I had never lived in an apartment that was already furnished before, although it was helpful because we had arrived in Scotland with only books and music. The flat was all sloping floor angles and damp carpets. And because it was winter when we moved in, we would go to bed wearing tracksuits and hats. I’d be lying in bed, writing my journal, with a pair of gloves on. It was terribly uncomfortable; there was no central heating, and the washing machine leaked. I’d never been so cold in my life.

It all felt exciting and wonderful, though, for all the discomfort. It felt glamorous — being in a damp flat, trying to write, and getting accustomed to the weather. And it was bound up with the excitement of being in a new place, getting my bearings, and finding out how people lived. It’s the state of alertness that has you noticing the cobbled streets, the different shades of grey, the slant of the light and the clustering of chimney pots.

It was a tiny flat — just one bedroom, a shower room and a lounge/kitchen. It certainly wasn’t the sort of place you’d host a dinner party in. Its redeeming feature were the two windows that overlooked Holyrood Park.

Fifteen years on, we still live in the same area — not in the same flat, I hasten to add — and still have views of the park. Not a day has gone by since I’ve lived in Edinburgh that I have not taken a walk in the park. It’s been an important place for me to go and think. The park is a real escape from the writing — I just love it. It’s constantly changing. Seasons were pretty new to me when I first arrived in Scotland.

At the time, I was writing short stories and having them published in the likes of Harpies and Quines magazine, and my day job was working in a health-food shop. It was an exciting time for Scottish literature, and I was devouring it — Alasdair Gray, James Kelman, Alison Kennedy, Janice Galloway and Irvine Welsh. I’d juggle my shifts at the health-food shop to be able to go to as many events as possible at my first Edinburgh Book Festival.

After six months, we moved out of the flat and moved up the road, to where we now live. We bought the new flat for no other reason that the mortgage was cheaper than the rent.

Francis hadn’t lived in Scotland for over a decade, but he’d previously worked in the civil service so was able to find a job with them pretty soon after we arrived in Scotland. So we were never exactly poor, but since our new place was unfurnished, there were quite a few trips to second-hand furniture shops.

Nevertheless, we still had a feeling it was all temporary and, indeed, after a couple of years we did leave Edinburgh for a year, to live in Greece, and rented out the flat while we were away.

We returned from Greece on the shared condition that we would take out a loan to instal some central heating. Now it feels permanent. We came back from Greece 10 years ago and I think it was only then that we decided to make a commitment to Edinburgh; that was where we wanted to be. And the central heating works beautifully.

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