Sticking to My Memories

It was on July 25, 1997, when I sat on a bike with my eyes closed rolling down a hill on the danish island Langeland. Through my eyelids I only saw the redness of the sun. In that instant I resolved to keep this moment of well being and comfort forever in my mind - except for the date when this moment happened. I had to think the date up since I forgot it.
I like to save memories for future occasions. Just in case somebody takes me hostage and throws me in a dark cave where I have to wait for weeks or years for my rescuer to come. Moreover there is always the danger that my central heating suddenly breaks down so that I need something to bend my thoughts on while I reel myself in my well padded blanket. And of course I need the company of plenty of memories for the time when I am old and alone (hey - that's strictly speaking now). It's good to collect these treasures of thoughts now so I have got them within reach early enough. And I can beautify, refine and change them a little.
A few hours ago I decided to create a new memory for my upcoming needs. I lay on a tribune next to a small football ground. It was an unusual tribune made of earth and grass. Straws pricked my neck. The sun was vanishing. Swarms of midges gathered around my head. I couldn't read, it was too dark. I felt frosty.
To be honest, this fresh and new memory isn't quite convenient and handy. But at least I can use it for one opportunity - then, when I am sitting in the dark cave being afraid of my kidnappers and whispering to myself: It could be worse.

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Three memories I would like to get back:
- The first time I had nosebleeding
- The first time I had allergy
- My first kiss