The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1167 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“Who did you go to see last night?” I asked Julie after Danny had managed to get her up.

“No one you know, so what’s the point of asking?” she snapped back. It was a good job Simon had left for his office. He'd have taken exception to her comment and acted on it.

“The point of asking is because I care what you’re doing and who you’re seeing. I know you don’t believe me and see it as interference or intrusion.”

“If I’d had fucking surgery, it wouldn’t matter would it?”

“Don’t swear at Mummy,” chided Trish.

“Oh shut up, half pint, so bloody goody-goody, aren’t you. I’m sick of this fucking place, like a bloody prison camp.”

Trish of course burst into tears and three other girls looked reproachfully at their elder sister.

“No one is forcing you to stay if you find it that bad, and there is no need to be so aggressive to your sister.” I tried to stay calm instead of throwing her out, which was my first inclination. Just stay calm, she’s got loads of issues and this is her asserting her right to test the boundaries.

“Huh, where could I go, I’m dependent on you lot.”

“If you really wanted to, I’m sure we could arrange a bedsit somewhere for you.”

“A bedsit? I’d be an even bigger prisoner there.”

“I lived in one for six months when I first came to Portsmouth.” I remembered it and some of the idiots I shared it with.

“Yeah, well you’re bloody wonder woman, ain’tcha? I gotta go.” She left early and without breakfast. It might have been a total wind up to test me, or she might still have been angry with me–though quite what she wanted me to do I wasn’t sure–and I suspect she wasn’t either. It’s make it up as you go along time.

“Ride carefully,” I exhorted her.

“Like you care,” came back the reply.

“Julie is very rude, Mummy,” commented Livvie.

“She’s a teenager, Liv. They all go through obnoxious periods, though admittedly, some are more obnoxious than others."

“What’s ognockers mean, Mummy?” asked Mima and I looked at her for a moment before I understood what she’d meant.

“Obnoxious?” I asked and she nodded.

“It means horrid and unreasonable.”

“I don’t fink she’s howwid or un weasonabew.”

“Ah, perspectives change with age, Meems.” I had just dug myself another pit.

“What’s perspexive?”

“When you look up the road and the cars which are closer look bigger than those far away, that’s perspective–I’m right aren’t I, Mummy.” Trish beamed her superiority at everyone, including Stella who was drinking water like it was being rationed and just groaned. I’m sure Gareth would be just as wonderful when her hangover had receded a little.

“I couldn’t have put it better myself, Trish.” Part of me could strangle her, and part of me loved her for her cleverness. All I’ve got to do is turn her into a human being and she’ll be fine–though my efforts with Julie weren’t proving too effective.

I eventually got them ready for school and we set off. Jenny was noticeable by her absence, so she presumably stayed out overnight. Her fellah must be home. I hoped Stella was capable of dealing with my wee yin as well as Puddin’ if she woke–I would have to drop the girls off and get back post haste.

Of course, there were road works and we got held up–is there anywhere in this country where they aren’t digging huge holes in the roads, and the number of potholes is disgraceful. The car bounces off some of them, on a bike if you didn’t see them, you could quite easily come off–in the rain or at night, it’s even more dangerous.

Several cyclists went past as we were stuck in the traffic choked road. “Perhaps we shoulda rode our bikes, Mummy?” suggested Billie.

“It might have been as quick with this morning’s traffic.” Finally we got the green light and moved on our way. We were late and I apologised to the headmistress, she advised me that several mothers were that morning, but added I would be prepared tomorrow, wouldn’t I?

The way things were going, I had no idea if I would or not. My only saving grace is that she needs me to do my talk in a couple of week’s time, so she’s being extra nice.

I drove round the congested area, heading north and then back in a big circle. That was nearly as bad. If I knew the weather was going to stay fine, I’d almost feel inclined to take the girls by bike–then Mima wouldn’t get there until lunch.

“That bloody brat of yours,” said Stella nursing her head and sipping soluble aspirin, “She started as soon as you left and stopped two seconds ago. Oh my poor head,” she whined.

“No comment,” I dismissed her whining and went off to see to baby Catherine. She gurgled when she saw me and waved her arms and legs. A moment later she almost sucked my nipples off.

After I’d finished feeding and bathing her nearly an hour had elapsed. Stella was still in the kitchen holding her head and muttering. “What d’you fancy for lunch–how about a nice big fry up?” She groaned and ran out of the kitchen swearing at me. The baby thought it was very funny, and so did I.

Jenny strolled in looking as if she hadn’t slept all night but had a certain smugness about her that and her funny walk tended to suggest she’d had too much bed and not enough sleep. The fact that she also sat down very gingerly confirmed my diagnosis–and the phrase, at it like bunnies came to mind, although mink might be more apposite–the males are rather rough lovers and frequently gangbang any hapless female they come across. Thankfully the return of the otter to many British rivers, is reducing their numbers. Otters will kill mink if they catch them.

“D’you mind if I start after lunch?” Jenny yawned.

“Am I keeping you up?” I asked cheekily, and she nodded before heading up to bed for a few hours.

I picked up the baby, and popped her in her bouncer thing, she sat and squealed at me, sucking on her hand until I relented and gave her her dummy. “Well, kiddo, looks like you an’ me are the workforce today. How about we do some ironing?” I asked and she giggled. “You’ve obviously seen me iron before,” I replied and she giggled and kicked her feet about.

“How can your daddy wear ten shirts in one week? Of course, he’s a banker and they’re not noted for their arithmetical skills, or we wouldn’t be in the mess we’re in, would we?” The baby thought it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard and laughed while chewing on her dummy–she was still teething and chewing on everything, including me when she gets going. I felt my left boob–the nipple felt like tenderised steak. I had to put some cream on it, which meant I had to wash it off before the next feed.

Life is such fun, all this and ironing too–I’m such a lucky bunny, I yawned.