Sutton Park in that delightful industrial Mecca that is Birmingham always makes me think of seeds. Sutton's Seeds.
I lack fundamental basics when it comes to knowledge of cars, their engines, what makes them go. I put key in ignition, I turn it and if it doesn't work, I'll calmly get out and try key in another car's ignition. Only joking. Basically, if it doesn't work, I'll shrug, get out, stick out my thumb and get a lift with someone who has a car who has a key that seemed to work that morning. Or something.
Now batteries exist not only in torches that you find in boots of cars, but actually, I have since learnt, exist in engines as well and need to remain fully charged.
So, when me and my sweetheart used to go and drive to Sutton Park (see, there is logic to this piece) and feel all clandestine and excited, if it was raining we would sit in car until rain had passed. We were remarkably lucky with our clandestineness cos weather would as a rule hold out for us. A passing shower was only dampener to our ardour.
But on one particularly wet Thursday, our ardour was well and truly brought to an abrupt halt by that most typical of Britishy weathers, a drizzle. Not a monsoon. Just a wistful drizzle. We retired back to car from bushes and sat.
Time to put radio on. Well, weather stayed same, and a couple of hours later it was time for us to go our separate ways. However, having radio on for two or so hours had made key used to turn engine on not work.
I'm courting a lady here and am in a tight spot. She sagely informs me that battery has gone flat, due to our having been playing radio whilst car has been parked.