Edinburgh has always held a special place in my heart. It's where my mum grew up before she married my dad and moved to Kilmarnock, where I was brought up. We spent many a weekend in Edinburgh visiting my grandparents, from when I was a baby until my early teens, and I had a fantastic four years at the university studying geophysics. In fact, I'm so fond of the city I'm getting married there this summer.

My mum's parents, my grandma and grandpa, had a detached bungalow in the Duddingston district of the city, which they bought, brand new, around about 1937, for £330. It was a classic Edinburgh prewar bungalow. When you went in through the front door, the first room on the right was the spare bedroom, and on the left, it was the dining room. Next on the left was the kitchen, and, through the back, there was a big living room, with access to the garden, which had a gorgeous sunken lawn. On the right, after the spare bedroom, were the bathroom and then my grandparents' bedroom, plus the door to the upstairs loft space, which was next to a grandfather clock with a distinctive chime. It was pretty roomy, especially to a small child.

Since the death of my grandparents - in the late 1980s - it has been converted, so the large loft space has proper rooms in it. But when I was visiting, with my parents and my older sister, Fiona, the loft space was one, pretty basic, undeveloped room. It was reached by going up steep, wooden steps, via not much more than a cupboard door.

It used to feel almost like entering Narnia. The loft was where Fiona and I would sleep and I often went there to read, because I loved books, and still do. It was a quite separate space to the rest of the house, and had three single beds and various pieces of furniture. As my grandparents got older and were less able to go upstairs, it felt more and more like a private space.

In fact, that loft/bedroom was where my mum and her sister slept when they were growing up in the house, and there were still some remnants from their childhood. The room hadn't really changed over the years and was pretty much how it had been back then. I don't recollect having much of my own stuff there; we would bring bits and pieces in the car with us, but we certainly didn't come with as many toys as kids nowadays.

Because we visited so often, a lot of my childhood memories are wrapped up in the place. It was, for example, where we were when I bought my first ever record: the Birdie Song. I distinctly remember dancing around the living room to it. And we used to play Grandma (We Love You) over and over on the record player, which I'm sure lost its charm pretty quickly.

My grandmother was quite small, so she would use a step to allow her to reach the top shelf in the kitchen. Like most of her generation, grandma was a good cook - I remember enjoying her soups, and my mum now has the crockery that we used to eat off. It always brings back happy memories when we use it.

I don't remember it ever being a cold house, but I do remember racing my sister to be first to get into the bath, so I didn't have to use it after her. And talking of water, my mum always said Edinburgh's tap water tasted nicer, so we would always rush to try it to see if we could spot the difference.

The driveway, to the side of the house, was on a slope, which to a child on roller skates equates a hill. My sister and I spent hours zooming down the drive, only stopping flying off into the road by swinging on the garden gate. When the driveway was no longer challenging enough, we would go to the nearby playparks.

My grandparents were very good gardeners - they were always winning prizes at flower shows. At the front of the house, there was the beautiful rose garden, and, at the back, they grew fruit, including strawberries, peaches and grapes. We “helped” by eating our way through their crop. I remember the sundial and a birdbath, and playing lazy games of clock golf on the sunken lawn.

Inside the house, there were lots of pictures on the wall - including one of a woman in a big crinoline dress, which prompted an obsession, for years, with big meringue frocks; at the moment I'm teasing my boyfriend that that's what I am going to get married in. The crinoline picture was made out of something like tin foil; it was rather old-fashioned and I've no idea where it is now. I do have a china statue of a similarly attired woman that my grandma owned, and a lamp they used to have, in the shape of an owl. It used to be the last thing I saw at night when I switched the light off, and it still brings back good memories today.

Kirsty McCabe, 32, is a weather forecaster for the BBC. Born in Kilmarnock, she now lives in London with her boyfriend, Renato.

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