The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1221 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

The next two weeks went by in a blur, as I tried to organise Christmas–sadly he didn’t want to be organised–so I just got on buying gifts and deciding a menu. If we invited all the people we’d like to, we’d have to order an ostrich and cook it over a bonfire in the garden–memories of Julie’s escape from that end made me think how lucky we’d all been. I could have been burnt as well, not to mention Simon following me into the fires. That says a lot about Simon: I know I tend to pick up on his shortcomings and he has a few as do we all, but he can be fearless and loyal to the point of stupidity.

He told me when he was in school, one of the boys was labelled as gay by someone who didn’t like him, and who it turned out was gay themselves so it was about sour grapes. The boy wasn’t a particular friend of Si’s, but he and another boy decided to pretend they were gay and hung about with him.

After one of the rugby games they got caught in the showers by a handful of boys who beat them up. They did get their own back–one at a time–the three of them arranged accidents and two of the attackers needed hospital treatment–one went down a flight of stairs–didn’t see the trip wire. The other one who ended up in Taunton Hospital, was a boy who they slammed a door shut on as he was walking through–I think Simon suggested he breathed through the back of his head afterwards.

Once the topic went on to something or someone else, the three boys were able to show they weren’t gay by dating girls and rumours began circulating that the older boys who got injured were worked over by the three musketeers–so they became anti-heroes and their credibility soared. The other boy who helped Simon was Des– the same one who fathered Puddin’. He was a bit of a ladies’ man afterwards, so perhaps it had some affect upon him. Having said that, I’ve been in his bedroom back at his cottage and there isn’t a whole pile of notches on the bedpost–to start with, it’s brass, so it could be difficult.

I had to go out with Simon to the office Christmas party. They take over the hotel in Southsea–well no guesses there–and I had to go and be introduced to loads of boring people. Okay, I spent much of the evening talking bikes with Matthew, or Matt as he prefers to be called. He runs the IT for the office, which is connected to the London Stock exchange and other ones all over the world–so if it goes down, they can lose millions.

I had a couple of dances with Simon, and a couple with Matt, they both dance better than I do, I might take lessons, in which case so can the children–except after that stupid show on the telly–I suspect dance classes are going to be very popular.

I can just about manage to waltz if I count the steps, and a foxtrot is passable, but quickstep–can’t do it. I can jive, so everyone saw me knickers in the twirl. Apparently, Matt is a serious amateur rider and spent much of the time trying to convince me to ride regularly and with a club. Yeah, with six kids I’m going to be out training three times a week and up the gym the rest of the time, aren’t I. Oh I know, I can cook the dinner while on the turbo–yeah, sure.

He’s just bought a Specialized Roubaix, about five or six thousand pounds–the bikes were first and second in the TdF this year. He doesn’t like Contador–no one does, do they–so he’s got the Saxo Bank one–fantasies of being Andy Schleck, one wonders? Mind you he name drops like nothing on earth, he’s met Brad and Mark, and gave Nicole a hug and he did the ride in Scotland with Lance. Mind you if he’s as good as he thinks he is, he’s quite a useful rider–me?–I’m average when I’m doing it regularly–when I’m not I’m pretty crap.

Simon invited him round for drinks sometime and to see my workshop–I would have words about that later. The evening was okay, I suppose, it could have been much worse. I did get asked to sign a couple of dormouse books–BBC did a book based on my film and the commentary with stills from the film. I edited it a couple of times–did I not mention it before–and agreed its final format. They wanted to push it before Christmas to do some signings, but I refused; I simply didn’t have time. I could have a done the odd hour in Portsmouth, Salisbury or Southampton but nowhere else.

I’m obviously more of a celebrity than I thought, because the book is by Catherine Watts, and I went to the do as Lady Cameron–I suppose they know all about me anyway. Sod it, why should I worry, so I signed a couple of Christmas presents, so what? One woman had bought the book and the DVD–I suppose she might like dormice, I told her to get in touch with the Mammal Society, they run courses on them, which I don’t teach on, I hastened to add.

Julie took her punishment in good heart. In fact, after I suggested to Danny, that he advise her to get her act together and show real contrition, Simon agreed she could have driving lessons for Christmas and once she’d passed her test he would get her a car. She doesn’t know it, but he’s getting her one of those Smart cars, the upright type, which only has two seats and a 500cc engine, I think. He’s threatened to get a bright pink one so no one will steal it. A Mercedes it is not, but I think once she’s mobile with it, she’ll like it and he hasn’t cancelled her birthday just postponed it–providing she behaves and of course plays up to him. Despite the fact she’s preop, he loves her flitting round him because she is quite a pretty girl and growing in all the right places.

Trish will get her microscope–the teacher got a similar letter to mine about orbital resonance–and asked Trish to explain it in a science class–the same nun teaches science. Of course, Trish took over the class and went on ad nauseum about the rings of Saturn and its moon Enceladus and the eruptions of ice it throws into the rings. Sister Gonzales, is going to get the DVDs of Brian Cox’s series, presumably to keep up with one of her pupils.

Of course, Trish, was full of herself but Mima brought her back to earth later the same day, when she was able to remember how I did the nappy on the wee yin and Trish couldn’t mainly because she wasn’t looking when I showed them. It happened when the four girls were helping me bath the baby and I was trying to show them a few things which might be useful if ever they had to change a baby. Trish still sulks about feeding one herself and she’s jealous that I can, but she is only six and understanding orbital resonance isn’t the same as having an adult body–which appears to be something she doesn’t understand. But then she is only six and intellect and emotion are very different things to understand and work with.