Terrible ParentingMy parents used to lock my brother, sister and I in the car while they went to the pub for a "quick one" after work. This quick one might last several hours, during which they would send bottles of Indian Tonic Water to us by way of refreshment.
On one particularly cold evening, bored stupid, we lit a small bonfire on the back seat of the car using the cigarette lighter and the contents of the glove box. We owe our lives to passing winos. (BTW: Please no more Maddie or Jesus gags, they've been done.)
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Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 9:47)
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I'm a ramblin' manMy dad was not a terribly involved parent as I was growing up. One episode that illustrates this quite effectively is the time, when I was about two or three years old, that he was left in charge of me and my sister while my mum went off with her friend for lunch at a pub in the next village.
On her way back from said pub, my mum looked out the car window and saw a small boy standing by the road. This was about mile and a half or so from our house, next to a large wood.
"Oh look," she remarked casually, "that little boy looks just like reallywittylad."
...a pause...
"Shit, it IS reallywittylad!"
On returning to the house, she found my dad sitting in the lounge reading the paper.
"Reallywittydad, where's reallywittylad?" She asked, innocently.
"Out playing in the garden I expect." he replied, utterly oblivious.
He got the bollocking of his life, of course. It seems I'd wandered out the gate, out of our village and into the wood. After a while I'd been found by a young lad who, since I was too young to be able to remember where I lived, had helpfully deposited me next to a major road in the hope that somebody might recognise me. I suppose I was quite fortunate that someone did.
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reallywittyname veraciously conspues lexiphanicism on, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 11:04,
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