This is perhaps more a case of embarrassing "Things Lost".

I started going out with a girl when I was still living in Sussex in the mid seventies - she lived on a farm close to the next village, and while driving her along the country lane which led to the farm where her father lived in a tied cottage, she made it quite plain in a non verbal manner that she wanted more than a peck on the cheek when we got to the farm.

After trying to keep concentrating on the road, as you may imagine, with some difficuly we reached the farm she suggested we adjourn to the hayloft. This had always been a bit of a fantasy of mine and I naturally made no protest.

Although the idea sounds good, it is not quite so comfortable as one would imagine, as tightly baled hay is rather like blocks of concrete. Nonethless we made the best of it, but the problem started when I tried to find my hastily discarded clothes - the bales have gaps between them and my underpants had fallen down in between one of these and, it being dark, after exhaustive searching could not be found.

It was then that the shadowy figure of my mother entered the story.

Before I went off to University she had diligently sewed Cash's name tapes inside all my pants. I had visions of the farm workers unloading the hay from the barn, and then finding the evidence of my misdeeds to present to her father.

Summer turned to Autumn and we continued to visit the barn regularly on our way back from the pub. In the end it got very cold, so I suggested we go in the house and watch TV, to which she agreed.

I'd only met her dad briefly just to say hello, as we'd obviously been busy doing other things, but the lady in question assured me it would be OK.

As soon as we got into the house, her Dad said:-

"What are you two doing in here - get back out in that haystack!"