Then there was the question of her annual birthday present, a dress which he duly bought without her, and then watched proudly as she tried it on. The trouble was that the dress was nearly always too large for Elizabeth, never very tall, and like everyone else she becoming smaller with age. And one year, the year of the Giant Red Dress, it was truly enormous. Out of curiousity, I asked my father how he chose the dresses, 'I go into that shop on the King's Road, and ask for a dress from the nearest girl I see. When she asks, 'What size?' I always answer: ' 'Your size.' And it always works.' He paused. Even Frank had noticed the overwhelming size of the Giant Red Dress. 'The trouble was that the girl in the shop this year was rather a fattie.' Frank gave his sweet smile. 'But it would have been unkind not to give the same answer.'
OK, I know. But remembering (bittersweetly, now) that my Dad always sincerely tried, but still we could see that the present he chose wasn't always quite right. And thinking of him with love, and reading this, and ending the day with much more of a smile than I started it with. :)