When I was three, I had a very good friend named Gemma. She was fearless where I was fretful, rebellious where I was conservative and dextrous where I was clumsy. She was also entirely imaginary. With Gemma’s help and support, I almost made it to the top shelf of the bookcase before my parents found me – and “Gemma said it was OK!” did not save me from a telling off. Gemma was also very fond of Discos crisps and Bourbon biscuits, and I became very good at smuggling them into my bedroom for her.
Related: Imaginary friends: why kids are falling out with made-up pals
As an adult, I think of my fearless invisible friend Gemma whenever I have to do something that scares me
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