When I was a month or two short of 15, I started going out with Emma [named changed – Ed] who was about two years younger than me. Her parents weren’t too crazy about the age difference at that time, but we persuaded them to let the relationship continue.
Emma’s dad was head gardener at a big country house, and the family lived in a cottage on the estate. The huge advantage of this for two randy teenagers was that there were plenty of nooks and crannies where we could slip into for some intimate time, on the pretext of ‘going out for a walk’. Our favourite was the hay loft of the old stables, where we miraculously also discovered a musty, discarded mattress.