Re-e-post
I love my dad. I do. We're exactly alike in so many ways, we're both quiet and shy, we love food, we'll never tire of watching QI repeats and still find them hilarious. He's picked me up from the last train more time than I have fingers AND toes. And last week he lent me £50, which to an impoverished student who can't afford food or bus fare, is like a million quid.
So he gets very annoyed when I remind him of the time he forgot I existed.

I was seven or so, and my sister was five. She was in reception class, I was in year two. When we were picked up from school, whoever was picking us up would wait by the reception playground for sister to come out, and I'd run round and meet them there.
One day it was my dad's turn. He may have been off work, he may have been on early shift, it doesn't matter.
So as usual, I walked round to the playground at half past three, and...nothing. No sign of my dad. I waited and watched as everyone else left, and there, in the distance was my sister, bobbling along on my dad's shoulders. Out of the school. Without me.
I ran after them and caught up, but I still didn't stop crying for a good few hours.

He doesn't like me reminding him of this.
(and now for someone completely different, Thu 25 Nov 2010, 12:57, Reply)