Climbing around on big machinery in my grandfather's abandoned workshop annexe behind his house and my house. I was four years old and allowed to go in there alone or with my brother, who pretty much ignored me and played with my cousin. There were broken machines, old appliances, vehicles, giant cranes, discarded tools, etc. (the vice grip was my favourite tool, used to squish things), and even the workshop building itself was falling apart. I liked to climb up on the roof of the workshop by myself and look out over the hills. The whole place smelled warm, like tar and grease ... and the sunlight always shone through broken glass with specs of dust. It was in a woodlot / open field behind our house and I can barely picture it, but I remember the sensory stimulation (smells, sounds, textures, etc).
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I never give you my number, I only give you my situation.
Beatles