It was a clear day when we started out for a simple walk across the fields in the spring sunshine. I'm not an expert on nature and all that stuff, so all I can tell you was that it was green and looked healthy, invigorating. Not that I was really interested in that nature thing. This walk was simply an opportunity for us both to escape our families, the council estate, to grab some 'us' time – at least temporally. We were just sticking to the well trod pathways, nothing bold was intended, that would get in the way of just being together.
Inevitably the rain started drizzling, and something I could predict was a storm beckoned. Should we turn back? Not without getting soaked. So we hurried on looking for some shelter no matter how meagre. Then we were lucky. Across a field was some derelict farm building; so there we headed out off the pathway; getting our feet wet because of our most inappropriate shoes. Arriving we found little more that an empty tin building with a mud floor; but it was shelter and somewhere to hide.
The torrents fell, but I did not mind, as we cuddled on the dry mud floor; occasionally peeking out; hoping it would not end. And it remained warm, or at least we did not feel the cold. I was disappointed as the rain ended; we would have to return to our respective families.
Such a simple memory; but it sticks in my mind after all these years; something to saviour, something lost.