ABSTRACT
Ever since, by chance, I saw the possibiiities of cottaging, at about the age of ten in 1933, I have been an inveterate and active participant. Then the possibilities were entirely visual: a good cock is 'a joy forever'. I was masturbated in a cottage about a year later. I did not enjoy it as the man was very unattractive, and I left as soon as it was over. I was not outraged, abused or ashamed. I told no one. As I grew up in my home town I used them as places where I could be picked up and met a few nice, helpful older men who advised me about my teenage doubts and guilt. At boarding-school, later, nothing homosexual happened to me. I used to frequent a cottage on trips to the city, again for visual pleasures. As I have recorded earlier, when I was fifteen, a policeman in my home town followed me home and told my mother all about my activities. He was, I suppose, decent about it, as I was not arrested and heard nothing more, except from Mother. For a few months I desisted, out of shame and out of consideration for her.
