The first thing I can remember is rain.
It sluiced across the windshield of the car, blurring the Scottish road ahead, so it was as if I looked upon the highway through carnival glass.
We were on our way to Loch Ness. I was six and obsessed with The Monster. My mother was driving us from our little rental outside London to Edinburgh, so we could have a look at the silver waters in the ancient glen. But the road flooded out and we never got there and The Monster was safe from us.