The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1328 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

After placing my elbow in Simon’s ribs, he turned over on to his side and stopped muttering. I lay there thinking about my dream. Apart from the fact that I was interacting with a dead person, it was as if things had happened in a parallel universe. Had she been subversively educating me in housekeeping skills?

I remember I helped her make the lounge curtains which were still hanging in the house. In fact, I made half of them while she supervised, wanting me to be able to use a sewing machine. Dad was away playing golf or something. We measured and cut linings, put on the rufflette tape, hemmed and hung them. She even showed me how to measure the window width and curtains so there was enough spare material for them to hang correctly, and the same with nets.

She’d encouraged me to help choose the material so it matched or blended with the colour of the carpet and the suite–that wasn’t difficult, but judging how some people dress, her house was more colour coordinated than some people’s clothing scheme. Mine have subsequently been integrated, as she taught me.

How many boys can hem their own trousers? I could and did while away at uni, and almost offered to do a colleague’s jeans until I realised what that would say about me. I was the only one of most of my year who actually wore trousers and jeans of the correct length, most of the others bought them too short or frayed the hems by walking on them–mind you, most of the girls were as bad.

What else had she shown me? I would sit and watch as she applied her makeup, and once or twice she let me copy what she’d done–I was about nine at the time and she thought it was amusing–or was it? I never forgot what she taught me and have taught my children the same–well the girls.

When we babysat for the neighbours a few times, she had me bath the baby and dress her and then feed her with a bottle, burp her and so on. My father wasn’t too happy about it but she argued that I might have children of my own and at least I’d have handled a baby. It’s come in handy a few times since.

Whether she was deliberately feeding my feminine side or just passing on her knowledge, I can’t say. The dream might have been pure wishful thinking. I glanced at the clock, it was after five and light–I wasn’t going to sleep anymore, so I slipped out of bed and went down had a cuppa and a slice of toast and got the bike out.

I rode for about an hour including a slow ascent of Portsdown hill, it doesn’t get any easier when I’m riding regularly, so when I’m not, it’s a real struggle. I stopped at the top and had a drink of water and got my breath back. I watched the sun rising and the world awakening on a Sunday morning. It was going to be unusually warm by the feel of it, although it was still cool and a widespread dew everywhere, the day looked bright and sunny.

I rode back down the hill, hoping that it was too early for much traffic–except the odd dog walker–those people are out at all times of day and night–it seemed very quiet.

I flew down the hill, touching speeds well in excess of forty miles an hour with the adrenalin flowing through my system. You know that if anything happens at that speed you’re going to be badly hurt or killed, so it is exciting and hairy–it’s also exhilarating and I love it.

Nearly back at home, a group of male cyclists overtook me–I didn’t see them until they were on me–so I let them go. I’d done about seventeen miles and my legs had had enough.

I wiped the bike down and locked it away in the garage before going back into the house. Tom was up and seeing me clad in lycra knew exactly what I’d been doing.

“Guid ride, hen?”

“It was okay, but I’ve lost about ten percent of my speed.”

He shrugged, we both knew why, you have to keep exercise up or lose muscle tone. I made some more tea and ate a bowl of cereal while he pulled on his jacket and picked up the dog’s lead. He was having his constitutional and walking the dog–which he did most days whatever the weather. For an oldish man, he was quite fit.

I dashed up and showered which woke Catherine up, so after drying and dressing myself, I took her down and fed her. It wasn’t long before Livvie was down with me and she helped me feed Puddin’, who was also awake. I wondered how Stella was doing–I’d have to try and phone her later.

A little while later, the rest of the brood were up including Simon, who muttered something about a bruise on his ribs which he had no idea of getting. I had to look away and pretend I was sorting one of the children out.

Of course the exception was Julie, who like most teenagers didn’t like going to bed and liked getting out of it even less. She could sleep for England–perhaps they should try that instead of football, they might win. She usually rose about midday on a Sunday, unless she was going somewhere. Though more frequently, she wasn’t because she’d been out half the night. She’d passed her driving test and Simon gave her a little runabout–one of those Smart car things, so she could only have one passenger. It was economical compared to my car or Si’s–mind you he does tend to have a lead foot–and I suspect Daddy’s car as well. His Land rover was reasonably good but he usually only drove it about town, I couldn’t remember the last time he drove any distance–oh yes I can, that bloody woman who nearly got him killed.

Once breakfast was cleared away, I put the joint of beef in the oven and prepared the veg. I used to par boil the potatoes for roasting, now I whack ‘em in the microwave for a quick fix and then dump ‘em in the oven. Trish helped me with the veg and then laid the table.

I then asked the girls if they wanted to do some sewing. Meems was very interested and Trish hemmed and hawed but eventually decided she might participate, especially when Livvie agreed it could be fun as well. Billie was very reticent which surprised me a little. Usually sewing is seen as a very girly thing and most transgender kids like to do girly things (unless they want to be boys). When I spoke to her later, she was afraid that she wouldn’t be any good at it, so she wimped out.

Meems had the best idea, Trish and Livvie were halfway there, but needed more practice. I had them cutting out and tacking after we measured a piece of cloth and pinned it. I’d seen something in a shop that I could copy, so we were making little hanging bags for putting knick-knacks in by the side of their beds–a torch or pencils, that sort of thing.

I did it for an hour with them then had to attend to the dinner, which once again Trish came to help–she seemed more interested in food than sewing, and I promised her she could help me make the gravy later on.

She duly did, and we served the rib of roast beef with roast potatoes, carrots, broccoli and swede. For desert, I did a fruit sponge, which Trish helped me make, with chopped apple baked under a basic sponge, served with single cream. I passed on the sweet, feeling too full after my main course–I think Danny probably ate my share–some days I think he has hollow legs, because he eats like the proverbial equine yet doesn’t seem to gain an ounce let alone pounds.

After clearing up, I fell asleep over the Observer crossword while Simon and Danny messed about with a football in the garden–until they broke some glass in Tom’s greenhouse, which the girls thought was hilarious.