I was 15, he was 17
He was the most gorgeous guy I'd ever seen. He was a venture scout, I was a ranger guide, and we met when our groups shared a campsite at a big 'world scout & guiding' event in Derbyshire. He had red shoes (this is to set my tale firmly in the 80s), dimples, and the twinkliest blue eyes, and I was lost from the moment I saw him. I thought of nothing but him all the time we were there. We finally kissed on Tuesday in the corner of their troop's tent, while his fellow scouts roasted insects on top of the gas lamp. The smell of burning Daddy Long Legs still makes me moist today...

Of course this idyll had to end, and I soon discovered the other chief teenage attraction when you're fifteen - getting drunk on sweet cider for the first time ever. On the last night I drank a litre of Woodpecker and managed to snog three scouts from Norwich, including one hiiiiiiiiiiiiideously fat one, before staggering back to our campsite and prostrating myself at the feet of my hunk, begging his forgiveness and vomiting copiously.

(Why he continued to take me on dates between getting home and him leaving to join the army, I'll never know, but I consider myself extremely lucky!)
(Hermioninny, Mon 24 Oct 2005, 20:34, Reply)