The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1293 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

The next morning was a Saturday, and don’t they seem to come round quickly? I decided we should do something as a family, although Julie would be in work and Tom was intent on supervising Leon in the garden which was coming on a pace. What was most interesting about it was that initially, Leon had found it all a huge chore–well let’s face, teenagers tend to complain about anything and everything; then, much to my delight he seemed to enjoy making things grow and seeing his efforts achieving something.

Tom was also delighted, he was recovering his garden from the primordial forest which had threatened to engulf it–actually, it was returning to scrub, which would then have given way to birch or hazel and then ash and oak in maybe thirty or forty years, which we deem climax woodland, occasionally beech is the dominant species of the native varieties but sycamore can also be involved. In the old days we used to just cut them down as giant weeds and then research showed they were important to dormice if oak isn’t in abundance; because they support quite a good insect population and dormice eat insects as well as nuts and flowers. They can’t eat green-stuff like leaves because they don’t have a digestive system which copes with it–about the only rodent which doesn’t. You can see why biologists like to study them, they’re so different to most other things notwithstanding their total cuteness.

I asked the kids what they’d like to do but they just bleated on–they’re kids, no? Why do I bother, silly old goat (clue–think about it). The weather was good so something out doors would be nice, but not painting the garden fence which Tom had suggested.

Billie wanted to cycle, the other two tween girls wanted to go shopping, and Mima wanted to take her dollies for a walk. Danny was playing football but we could have worked round that.

Baby Catherine didn’t have a view that we could understand, except, ‘Ma-ma-ma-ma,’ which is probably secret code for ‘Unleash the dogs of war,’ or something equally unexpected.
Of the big kids, Simon wanted to watch the rugby, Tom was gardening and I wanted to cycle. I put the suggestions into a hat and Tom pulled one out which we all agreed to do. It was cycling. Of course Simon accused me of cheating until he saw that they weren’t all cycling.

He grumbled when he went off to change so I went to check over the bikes. I had to pump up a few tyres but it didn’t take too long. As I went up the stairs to change the others were all finishing dressing and ready to come down again, except Simon who was muttering while walking about with one sock in his hand.

Danny had cycled to his football match, so we’d all wend our way there too, as the school they were playing at wasn’t very far away; then we’d all ride off to a pub for lunch.

Jenny declined to come with us and so agreed to stay behind and look after the two babies, although Puddin’ was now a year old. Did I not tell you we had a small party and she thoroughly enjoyed opening her prezzies. She likes dolls and soft toys and had them in abundance.

I changed quickly while Si was still wandering about like someone auditioning for the part of the ancient mariner when I asked him what the problem was apart from having lost the draw.

“I can’t find the other stupid sock.”

“Where have you looked?”

“Everywhere.”

“Everywhere?”

“Yes, everywhere–why don’t you listen?”

“I was just checking before I got you to see an optician or a psychiatrist.”

“Why?”

“If you had looked everywhere–that would by definition include your left foot.” As I said this he looked down. He’d put one sock on and then while looking for the other had forgotten. He then found the other one but forgot the first one, so he was wandering about one sock on and the other in his hand. He appeared suitably embarrassed so I wouldn’t tell the kids their father was losing it big time–especially as it might be my turn next week.

I knew where my cycling kit was, and I pulled on a pair of cycling trousers, which one wears sans panties–I always use a very thin panty liner–my sports bra, a vest and long sleeved HTC-Highroad shirt. I tugged on my socks and grabbing my shoes trotted down the stairs moments behind Simon who was still muttering about something.

I tied my hair back and put on my shoes–I use SPDs on all my bikes–these are a form of clipless pedals which are designed to be used with cleats on the bottom of the shoes. Consequently, cycling shoes have very rigid soles. There are several forms of clipless pedal, but the SPD system is made by Shimano and very popular. Although intended for mountain bikes, SPDs are quite popular on road bikes too.

We finally got ourselves sorted out–Mima opting to use the trailer bike on the back of her daddy’s bike–he was moaning because he considered I was the stronger cyclist. The delays caused by Simon’s sock and then the fiddling about with which bike and so on, meant we only just got to the school as the boys were coming out of the showers. Danny was a bit miffed, he got sent off for arguing with the ref, but he did score in the first half–they got beaten two one.

We followed the cycle path for a mile or so and stopped to admire the view then, went on to the pub, The Crown and Anchor, which were happy to have children in to eat–they also did children’s meals–usually rubbish like sausage, beans and chips but they were happy to eat that while I had a tuna jacket and Simon steak and chips.

They all guessed what I’d order, but I hadn’t had tuna for at least two days–I was getting withdrawal symptoms. I had masses with my spud which seemed to be about the size of a rugby ball. Danny had a jacket too–he was too old and sophisticated to eat kid’s meals–he had a cheese one with baked beans. We all decided he could ride at the back in case his turbo charger cut in, fuelled by the beans.

After lunch, Mima decided that Simon had been telling the truth and asked if she could come behind my bike. I hadn’t towed her for ages and forgot how hard work it was. We still managed to beat Simon who grumbled about his knee after a while.

Why Simon complained, I don’t know as we were back in time for him to see nearly all the rugby, including the historic win by Italy over France by one point. Wales then beat Ireland by a controversial try, something to do with the wrong ball. I wondered if that meant they were using a football and Simon went into this long explanation of rule nine B or something. I wasn’t really listening so it sailed over my head–did that count as a conversion?

It was nice to see the players and spectators give a minute’s silence to those in Japan who were killed or missing in the tsunami, as Japan plays international rugby, although not as well as most of the other nations.

Danny watched the rugger with Si, while the others did their own thing. I had a shower–a leisurely one–then fed the wee yin, afterwards making tea for everyone else. It had been a reasonably good day, and I sniggered when I remembered Simon looking for his sock and it was on his foot all the time–like the time I spent an hour looking for my sunglasses which were on top of my head all the time. Simon stood and sniggered the whole time as I got progressively more angry–mostly with him for his teasing.