The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1219 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

My head was reeling from tiredness and my conversations with Stephanie. I waited outside the school and received a text from Simon.

’Lock up the Merc. J is not to have it until we decide. Si x.’

I replied: ’Alredy did. C x’

And received a response: ‘Clever clogs.’

Four schoolgirls appeared who knocked on the door of the car. “What’s the password?” I asked. From the slightly open window.

“Password–? Eh–?” said Trish.

“Yes, password.”

“There isn’t one,” she replied.

“Wrong–that’s your guess gone.”

“Hey, that’s not fair.”

“You don’t get two goes–who’s next?”

“Mummy, open the door,” offered Billie.

“No, next?”

“Open sesame?” tried Livvie, at least she was thinking.

“Hard luck. Meems?”

“Pweese, Mummy.”

“Correct. In you get.” I unlocked the doors and Meems and the others scrambled in.

“That was most unfair,” sulked Trish.

“Expecting you to say, please–yes perhaps you’re right.”

I heard Mima smirking in the back. “I got it wight,” she was chanting.

Trish was itching to tell her that she was lucky or stupid or something equally derogatory when she thought better of it, engaging her brain before her mouth.

“As children you have certain expectations of parents–things of the nature of love, protection, food, clothing, shelter and so on. However, as parents we expect certain things from you as children, such as love, respect, obedience and some politeness. It costs nothing to be courteous and polite but it might save your life, and certainly some money and time. People are more responsive to those who show some respect to them and are polite and courteous.”

“Wossat mean, Mummy?” asked Meems.

“It means saying please and thank you and meaning it. Having patience for others. Being kind to others.”

“The nuns are on about that all the time–but they don’t show us any patience,” complained Trish.

“Perhaps they are picking up on your impudence, young lady?”

“Wossat mean, pweese, Mummy?”

“Impudence is being cheeky.”

“Is you cheeky, Twish?”

“No–just ’cos they get things wrong an’ I tell em, they think I’m being imp–um–cheeky.”

“Oh yeah, Sister Gorgonzola, said Sydney was the capital of Australia and Trish told it wasn’t, it was Canberra.”

“And how did Trish tell her?” I asked.

Livvie blushed, “Um, she said something like, Don’t be daft, everyone knows it’s Canberra not Sydney, ’cept you.”

“I see, do you think that was the correct way to go about it?”

“Probbly not, she could of said it more politely.”

“Oh yeah, what should I’ve said? Please shut up you fat old bat, until you know what you’re talking about, thank you. Would that be polite, Mummy?” she giggled from the back seat it spread to the others in moments.

“No, it’s impolite and disrespectful to call someone names in front of others and to challenge an older person, especially one who has authority over you, is not only disrespectful it’s downright dumb. She has a capacity to make life difficult for you, so making her use it, isn’t the brightest thing in the world.”

“So what should I have done?”

“Lots of things, such as: Excuse me Sister Gonzales, but I believe the federal capital of Australia is Canberra.”

“Mine’s funnier,” laughed Trish.

“Mine is less likely to get you asked to leave the school, Trish–and remember, not everywhere would want to take you.”

“That’s not fair, Mummy, jus’ ‘cos of a stupid teacher who doesn’t know nothin’.”

“Trish, if she doesn’t know nothing, it must mean she knows something.”

“No it doesn’t,” she argued.

“It does, it’s a negative negative or double negative.”

“Sounds like double Dutch to me,” said Trish, smirking, and the others sniggered.

“And that sounds like cheek to me, young lady. When we get home you will write me a letter of apology and unless it sounds sufficiently contrite, Father Christmas will be passing your stocking by.”

“’t’snot fair,” she shouted back at me.

“Life isn’t, if it was, little girls would be polite and courteous and not try to ridicule their parents or teachers for cheap laughs.”

Once we got back, Trish went up to her room with her laptop and set about writing me a letter. I rejected the first two attempts as being insincere. I made dinner–or finished it up–a cottage pie. We ate when Simon came home and he announced after dinner that he wanted the kids to all stay at the table.

I continued clearing up until he asked me to return as I needed to hear it. “In recent weeks, I don’t know what has got into you lot but I am sick of being treated as a fool. I’m not, neither is your mother, Gramps nor Auntie Stella or Jenny. We’ve all been around a lot longer than you lot with a great deal more experience of many things.

“I’m growing tired of your bad temper, rudeness, cheekiness, dishonesty and disrespect. Your mother spends a great deal of time and effort in looking after you and to hear you muttering silly names under your breath at her, is not on.

“So–until I hear and see you behaving with a great deal more respect and politeness, Christmas is cancelled. In other words, you’ll get nothing. It will be just an ordinary day.

“As for, you, young lady,” he addressed Julie, “I’m confiscating the Mercedes. You won’t get it at all now. If however, you behave until Christmas, we’ll allow driving lessons and if you pass your tests–both theory and practical, I will get you a car–but it won’t be a Mercedes.”

“May I leave the table, Daddy?” asked Julie.

“Yes, you may.”

She rose, pushed her chair back under the table walked to the door and ran up the stairs sobbing. The others sat, mouths open and silent, with some watery eyes forming.

“Off you go,” he said.

“Mummy, do I still have to do the letter?”

“Very much so.”

“Oh.” Trish went upstairs with her tail between her legs.

“What letter is that, Babes?”

“She cheeked me on the way home from school–I told her she had to write me a letter of apology.”

“Good Lord, I’d never have thought of that–not in a million years.”

“When did she cheek, Sister Gonzales?” I asked Livvie.

“This morning, in geography.”

“Tell her she has to write a letter of apology to Sister Gonzales, too.”

“What’s all that about?” asked Simon.

“She corrected a nun about the name of the Australian capital.”

“What did the nun say?”

“Sydney–it’s Canberra.”

“I know, I’ve been to both places. Canberra is full of stuffed shirts, it’s like a museum, whereas Sydney is a very vibrant city.”

“A bit like London and Portsmouth,” I offered.

“Oh definitely,” he said winking, “Let’s face it, the last time anything happened here it was the sinking of the Mary Rose.”

We chatted and an hour later, I was presented with a sheet of paper.

‘Deer Mummy,

Trish.’

I showed it to Simon. He read it twice and laughed. “What does orbital resonance mean?”

“It means she‘s been watching Brian Cox instead of writing this letter.”

“Brian who?”

“Brian Cox, Professor of Physics at UMIST. He did a series of TV programmes on the solar system. He’s a bright chap works at Cern as well.”

“Cerne? Cerne Abbas?”

“No, darling, Cern as in Switzerland, large Hadron collider thingie.”

“Oh that Cern–of course, they only have a large tourist collider at Cerne Abbas.” There was a definite danger that Simon was actually going to say something really funny one day–probably more likely than a Higgs-Boson particle being found.