Late one Saturday evening, I was awakened by the ringing of my phone. In a sleepy grumpy voice I said hello. The party on the other end of the line paused for a moment before rushing breathlessly into a lengthy speech. "Dad, this is Susan and I'm sorry I woke you up, but I had to call because I'm going to be a little late getting home. See, Mum's car has a flat but it's not my fault. Honest! I don't know what happened. The tyre just went flat while we were inside the cinema. Please don't be mad, okay?"

Since I don't have any daughters called Susan, I knew the girl had misdialed. "I'm sorry dear, "I replied, "but you've reached the wrong number. I don't have a daughter named Susan."

"Gosh, Dad," came the young woman's voice, "I didn't think you'd be this mad."