"It's time we had a little talk," I can still remember my Dad saying, his voice and eyebrows lowered to ominous levels that always meant serious business.
My puberty-ridden voice cracked as he directed me to take a seat in the barn just before we were expected to go in for supper.
"Your Mother and sister don't need to hear this," he sternly warned.
This was it, I thought. The man-to-man briefing I had been waiting for, the facts of life speech, the birds and bees lecture, the "keep it in your pants" sermon. The great day had finally arrived.