The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1120 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Life in the fast lane–yeah, sure, the only problem is I’m in the fast lane of a motorway riding a bicycle. The weekend was over and suddenly I was carrying four girls to the convent school. Billie was understandably nervous, though Trish and Livvie were trying to support her but I suspect they were making things worse. By the time we were actually parking, she was ashen faced and trembling.

“Take deep breaths,” I was saying to her while Trish was saying something else, so I sent the other three off to find their new classes while I stayed with Billie to calm her down.

Just by holding her and talking to her gently and calmly, she calmed down. Whether any blue light moved between us, who’s to say, but whatever happened; it worked and I walked holding her hand into the school and the headmistress’s office. She was welcomed by Sister Maria who led her off to her new classroom.

I was asked to wait for her to speak with me when she’d finished settling Billie in to her new class. I had no idea what it was about, and I was occupied with thinking about the girls having school meals instead of packed lunches. Jenny was happy to help me make them, but I felt they were all old enough to have school meals and to choose something reasonably nutritious.

Julie, much against my better judgement had managed to persuade Simon to sub her for one of those motor scooter things. It will only do a maximum of thirty miles an hour but it was the only way we could get her to go to college. Of course she could have used the bus but no, she wanted independence. I can understand her, but I don’t have to like it–I suppose I have a natural anxiety about those things. Even more than motor bikes, they have relatively small wheels.

On Saturday while I was busy with the younger children, Julie sweet-talked her foster dad to have a look at one of those machines, as Leon had managed to get a second hand one. I think Simon even had a go on it, so he was hooked: then when she suggested he could borrow it if she wasn’t using it, he agreed to buy her one. Then the helmet and a suitable jacket with over trousers; I didn’t ask what it all cost. Simon wasn’t so pleased with a pink scooter and helmet–somehow I couldn’t see him borrowing it too often.

I told her it was her birthday and Christmas present combined, but I knew he was just as generous with the other children, and Leon said he’d ride with her the first few times.

I hoped college would do several things–the most obvious being teaching her a skill and continuing some form of education, because they had to do other bits and pieces like English and business studies which included some book-keeping and spreadsheet usage. Secondly, I hoped she’d make some new friends, as she had a relatively poor social life and whilst I didn’t want her out every night on the town or clubbing or whatever teenagers do these days, I did hope she’d have some fun as well as learning something.

Now the kids are back in school, Jenny’s hours have changed, so she’s off between ten and three on a Monday to Friday, unless the kids are on holiday. It was her suggestion. If I wanted her to do some housework as well, she’d be paid overtime which seemed reasonable. Because I made my child slaves do it at weekends, the place didn’t look too bad.

Maureen came and did some decorating for us, slapping some paint about in the kitchen and bathroom, which are largely tiled anyway, but having the ceiling painted made quite a difference except the paint made me sneeze for days.

At three thirty I collected the girls from school and Billie was gabbling nineteen to the dozen, about this girl and that, and her form mistress, Sister Antoinette was the best teacher she’d ever had. It seemed all the worry in the morning was simply anxiety about the unknown, even though she’d spent a morning there before and apparently with her future class.

Trish was not at all happy about playing football at her next games lesson, but I told her she had promised to try it. In contrast, Livvie couldn’t wait to try, nor could Mima who wouldn’t be able to until her next year. Danny had promised to give them some lessons and I watched them on the back lawn, while he did all sorts of tricks with the ball and they stood and looked on in awe.

Finally, they had a go and he had them kicking the ball to each other, passing I think they call it. Trish seemed to have two left feet and I wasn’t sure if it was a deliberate affectation, especially when he mocked her and she kicked the ball straight at him and into Tom’s greenhouse. Talk about, bend it like Beckham.

Afterwards, I asked her to try it for a term and if she really didn’t like it, she could do something else. She agreed, amazingly with no conditions attached. Billie wanted to do cycling instead of football or hockey, but that wasn’t allowed. The grounds didn’t have cycle path round them and riding on the road was too dangerous, so she’d have to do that with me when I had time available.

The headmistress had asked me to stay to do her a favour. She wanted to do a showing of my dormouse film, and then have me answer questions afterwards. This was fund raiser so parents and other riff raff were invited. I suggested I do more or less the same as I’d done for Sussex university, with out-takes and bloomers on a DVD. She jumped at the offer. She proposed selling tickets at five pounds each, to which I suggested that they should be numbered and I’d provide three copies of my dormouse film for a draw afterwards. She overruled that and proposed a raffle as well, with my film as the top prizes.

“No one is going to pay a fiver to hear me embarrass myself,” I declared in disbelief.

“Oh yes they will. If the Holy Father himself came, we wouldn’t get a bigger turnout.”

“Oh come off it, of course you would.”

“Nah, he’s not that popular with many Catholics, partly because of his handling of the paedophile priests, and partly because of his background–he’s a reactionary, and we need to move forward.”

“Well I thought he was sold out over the weekend.”

“He’s not as funny to watch as you.”

“How d’you know that?”

“Speech day, if you remember? You enthralled them all and it was actually the PTA who suggested we ask you to come and talk to us again. Some of them are still chuckling about it.”

“Was it that bad, then?” I asked, hanging my head.

“No, Lady C, it was that good.” I wondered if she’d been to the same talk that I was at.