The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1311 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I was up early the next morning and quickly showered and dressed, to be down before Trish was up. I placed her new bike, a reasonable hardtail MTB in the lounge along with all the other presents we’d been hiding.

Then I went to wake them–all of them, the girls, Danny, check the two wains, and agitate Julie, who doesn’t like going to bed or getting up–typical teenager. I supervised the girls showering and helped do their hair, although even that they are managing better each month for themselves or each other. My skills are limited, but Julie does occasionally show them something new.

As it was a school day, it was either a ponytail or plaits, Trish opted for plaits and nearly managed to do her own. I pretended I’d forgotten it was her birthday, and ignored her fishing for things as I tied the ribbons on the end of the plaits to match her school uniform.

Eventually she said, “Mummy, have you forgotten it’s my birthday?”

“No, that’s tomorrow, it’s Thursday today.”

“That was yesterday,” she said her hands on her hips.

“I’m sure I know what day it is, so c’mon down for breakfast.” I chased them all downstairs and as she passed the front door, she spotted all the cards I’d placed on the mat–the postman rarely comes before I take them to school.

“Look at all my cards,” she said waving them in my face, “it is my birthday, silly Mummy.”

“Yes, they’ve come early, now come on, eat your breakfast or I’ll cancel your party tomorrow.”

“It’s today,” she said loudly and stamped off into the kitchen, whereupon she shrieked with delight, nearly shattering my eardrums and the kitchen window.

“You did remember,” she hugged me round the waist and was crying.

“Of course I did,” I put my hand on her shoulder.

“I began to think you’d forgotten,” she said sniffing.

“How could I, you’ve spent half your life reminding me for the past three weeks.”

“Oh yes,” she sniggered, wiping her nose in my jeans–lovely child.

“C’mon eat your breakfast and then you can open your cards and presents.” She nodded, wiped her eyes and nose on the back of her hand and went into the kitchen. We had a verse of Happy Birthday, sung with more enthusiasm than talent by the Cameron quintet, which frightened Catherine, so I had to calm her down.

Jenny arrived and helped with sorting out breakfast and fifteen minutes later, Trish opened her cards, received one each from the other children, a kiss from Simon who’d just come down and a hug and a kiss from me.

Then the presents–Simon took her into the lounge and she was delighted with her new bike. She gave her old one to Puddin’, who was still too small to ride it, but I’d hang it up in the garage for when she could.

Some of her presents were related to the new bike, Danny gave her a puncture repair outfit, Julie gave her a new helmet, Billie gave her a mirror for her handlebars, Livvie gave her a padlock and chain and Mima a front light and Puddin’ gave her a rear light. Finally Catherine gave her a shiny new bell, which I promised to fit for her.

She had loads of other things as well, clothes and CDs, DVDs, makeup and toiletries, she did very well out of everyone, and she didn’t know it yet but Henry and Monica were coming to the party.

Somehow I got them all to school on time. Then finished my shopping for the party and a few things we needed for the fridge or cupboard. By the time I returned to the house, Jenny had vacuumed through and dusted. We put up Trish’s birthday cards on the fireplace in the dining room and I shifted the bike back to the garage.

I made up the goody-bags while Jenny finished cleaning and we had a cuppa and a biscuit, then we did the laundry–we changed half the beds and washed the linen. An early lunch–I did us tuna jacket spuds with salad. I tidied the kitchen and did the dishes while Jenny reloaded the washing machine and took the clean stuff out to dry on the line–it was a cool but sunny day and looked like a good drying day.

Then, it was jelly and blancmange time which I made and shoved in the fridge to set, next, I did tiny sandwiches with: egg and cress; cheese; tuna and finally, some corned beef. I cooked the sausages and we had fun spearing them on cocktail sticks.
Jenny popped the mini sausage rolls in the oven as I went to get the girls from school and she also began laying up the large dining table.

The three of them were like bottles of pop and I had to speak sharply to them to sit quietly in the back of the car. In an hour’s time all hell would be let loose as a dozen or more six and seven year olds ran amok in an ancient farmhouse.

The girls all rushed up to change–jeans and tops, and Trish wanted to ride her bike. It was possibly mean of me but I told her she had to help me do things for the party. She grumbled but helped put the food out.

The other girls helped too and Danny, for whom I’d made some tuna sandwiches, took his private feast and went upstairs to play on his laptop.

Tom arrived just before the hordes were due, then the door bell seemed to ring continuously for the next half hour as the invasion began. I wondered why I never learn and tell the kids no more parties, but then I didn’t have many as a kid and it’s nice to see Trish totally integrated as a girl.

Stephanie called by and brought presents for all the girls and book for Danny on the history of the FA Cup. She helped supervise the games with Simon, who got home just before they were due to start.

During the height of the games in the garden, Maureen arrived with a present and soon after, Henry and Monica came, absolutely laden with presents for everyone. I got a new watch then, discovered everyone had one too. Monica had smuggled them back through customs.

Trish gave her grandparents a big hug and thanked them for coming. I nodded at Tom, and she rushed over to him and hugged him too. He gave her a lovely silver bracelet.

As there were plenty of adults to supervise the screaming horde, I retired exhausted to the kitchen where Maureen told me what had happened in Eastbourne as we drank a quick cuppa.

“I was a little worried about you being such a softie with that rather streetwise woman.”

“I was perfectly safe, ma’am. She’s moving up to Newcastle in a couple o’months and Andrew’s going with her. She’s got a job in Tesco up there, they’ve transferred her from Eastbourne or will do.”

“What about getting your money back?”

“I’ve told her she can keep it. Part of me would ’ave liked to ’ave ’ad a kid, but it isn’t to be.”

“There’s half a dozen out there you can borrow anytime you like,” I joked.

“Maybe,” she said, “or I can come over and play with ‘em and go home when I’ve ’ad enough.”

“Now why didn’t I think of that?” I joked.

“Because you needed to be a mother and there were children out there who needed motherin’.”

“You could be right there, girl. So is that it for Eastbourne?”

“Not quite, I told Cilla and Andrew that they were welcome to come and visit me anytime they liked if it got too cold up north.”

I stroked her face and pecked her on the cheek, “You’re a real softie, Maureen, but please never change.”

“An’ you’re the nicest employer in the world, ma’am, so don’t you ever change will you?”

“We’ll have to see about that, if it gets out I’ll be inundated with CVs and begging letters...” I grumbled and she just laughed before a group of thirsty girls came swarming into my kitchen demanding drinks.