Not you, Dad

It was Trina's birthday last week. We went to the pub and had Prosecco and a pie. We went back to hers, where in bed, she did that writhing, please fuck me, which I did not indulge. There is only one girl I want to fuck, and love; neither will ever happen.

It was the annual house music weekender in St Annes. Two-and-a-half days and nights of house music, which to many people would sound like torture, but for us, it's subculturally indulgent. Overheard in the pub: "Who said you could sit here you Burnley bastard? I'd rather sit next to a Paki. I'd rather sit next to Bin Laden." "You'd have a job, 'cos he's fucking dead." "You'll be dead if you sit here you fucking Burnley bastard."

And then last night, a shock, the intensity of which I still can't dim.

Later today, my youngest is off to Liverpool University. Ever since they expressed an interest in going to University, I have just assumed that I would be there, with Kirsty and her boyfriend, at their halls, settling them in and biting my lip as we arrange their crockery and make sure they have enough things to eat and exchanging a few pleasantries with equally distressed parents.

Last night, I was at Kirsty's, all of us sitting around having a last supper, slagging off the contestants on X Factor. Melanie had had a pre-university haircut which makes her prettier. I didn't say that I preferred the more doleful, lank hair of her late adolescence.

Melanie, her sisters, Kirsty and her boyf are going down in boyfriend's car. Knowing there wouldn't be room for me in the car, I had planned to get a train to Liverpool. I asked where would be the best place to meet them.

"Well, why don't you come down a bit later, maybe a bit later in the term. The new computer will have arrived by then and you could take it to her," said Kirsty. I looked to Melanie for help in such a gut-wrenching rejection, but she just nodded in assent. Every member of my family, bar me, will be there. I am not allowed to accompany my youngest to University today as she leaves home. I sat there stunned, a reservoir of tears building behind my eyes, making comments about the X Factor contestants to display an inscouciant cover for the worst rejection I have ever had.

I am up at 6am wondering why. Wondering how bad a Dad have I been to make them not want me there. I'm not a horrible person. I don't deserve this. Is this going to be repeated then? Should I not buy the tickets to Loughborough and Bristol for the other two? Am I to be excluded for their leaving as well? Wendy and I are going Kitty's at 10am today for one of our brief little mornings together, --Wendy's controlling, jealous ex thinking that it's just Kitty and Wendy -- but I'm not going to be great company.