That was undoubtedly his Dad. Pete understood Dave and not only accepted,  but actively celebrated Dave for being who he was. Peter loved Dave unconditionally. As Rachel Bunce who has a sister with special need summarised " Your Dad get's Dave. My Dad never fully got my sister, never fully understood her" 

There was a boy at Penrose School called Jamie Evans that Dave used to go and visit. Jamie had a couple of games with guns and football table that shot out ball bearings which Dave enjoyed playing. Dave could loosely be called a friend of Jamie’s, but Dad was his true friend. Always on the look out for ways to get Dave to try things that were out of his routine or involved interacting with other people.

Dad once spent a weekend single handily painting the scout hut. An expression of gratitude to the  group for letting Dave attend, and also letting him shoot everyone with an imaginary gun when they went into a circle at the end of the sessions. When it came to DIY Pete was a master of sloping shelves and door handles that wouldn’t work. He was really very grateful.

As children he drove myself and Dave every week to "The Thursday club" a place where children with special needs could mix with any other child that chose to go. Dave was bribed  to go, with the promise of a stop of at the chip shop on the way home. 

The two of them set of to Blackpool so Dave could go on the slot machines. Standing in an arcade with all the blaring music and flashing lights will have been a living hell for Pete. He had no interest in any of it. Dave enjoyed it so much that they went back and did it again.

There was the nuclear submarine, whose wearabouts was shrouded in secrecy.  A trip to see this was arranged for Dave. Via the son of a builder who was doing work on the house. Don't quite know how they pulled that off.

I remember Dad's face lighting up with delight and saying "Dave's here" This was on one of the many occasions -since getting cancer - when he was in hospital with pneumonia or some complication. Dave could be heard muttering and chattering aloud as he made his way down the ward.  As usual we could hear him before we could see him.

Dad was the person who got Dave's meals. Who supervised his diets, Tried to get him to slow down when he was eating. Tried to get him to "have a bash at improving his shave". Set up exercise routines..... Tried is the repeated theme here! He did the daily things.

When I said it “had got to the end of the road”  for our Dad. Dave stopped mid action and look me in the eye, but only to say “ No I don’t think so Lizzie’ and go on to provide an elaborate explanation of why someone might temporarily only be able to speak in a hoarse whisper or loose the grasping function in their hands.

When Dad was in his last days, and we drove Dave over to visit, he came into the room and said “I’ve come to  pay my respects” and then went and sat in the car waiting to be taken back to Fran and Rachel’s.  Unable to stay in the same room, unable to sit with his sadness. Visiting Dad’s grave Dave sat on a nearby bench and wanted to leave almost on arrival.

Jon Shirley's observations:I always loved being in the same room as Peter and David because Peter was always so interested in everything Dave said(and he said a lot!),and Peter always said the perfect retorts to David's musing that would take the conversation onwards and in different directions.The conversation would flow seemlessly from submarines to Goebbels, to Georgi Markov and the poison pellet umbrella, to Camp Freddy in the Italian Job, to gymnasts dancing, to the Yellow Submarine, to retuning the telly, to cars running on hydrogen being good for the environment, like a thing of conversational beauty.