Postman
The one thing I'll never forget about my own running away experience, having written a note in highlighter pen to my mum detailing my grievances and reasons for flight in full, was the look of understanding and wry humour on the postman's face as he walked past me in my pyjamas at 7 o'clock on a freezing cold morning, whilst I was standingnext to the front gate. For that brief moment before he dropped of our alloted letters, a bond of real companionship existed between us: he knew exactly what would force five year old me to take such drastic action.

The tale ends not, as many of you dirty-minded perverts might suspect, with the postman taking advantage of this defenceless little boy leaving me scarred for life, oh no, our relationship, although brief, was a thing of spiritual purity and wonder. It does end, however, with me deciding it was just too damn cold after about five minutes and heading back inside before any of the rest of my family had even woken up, leaving my heartfelt departure note humourously superfluous.
(WarneMarsh My priority for frivolity begets quality jollity, Sat 12 Aug 2006, 23:28, Reply)