The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1343 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

It was another bank holiday, this time for the royal wedding. We decided we’d all watch it–that is the girls, Simon, Tom, Jenny and I–Danny decided it was far too girly for him to watch so went off to play football or something with his friends. He went off on his mountain bike.

Breakfast was eaten and cleared up promptly–beds were changed with all hands to the pumps–and they were washed and the linen out on the line to dry before Julie was saying the princes were on their way to the tower–I think she meant abbey–perhaps not.

Julie also has a thing about Harry–she thinks he’s almost normal for a royal–he only has two arms legs and heads–that sort of thing. Trish thinks William is so good looking which Livvie agrees upon, while Meems loves her dad.

It’s hard to think that William is pretty well the same sort of age as moi, so I suppose Kate is too. They just announced he is Duke of Cambridge and on marriage she becomes a duchess. I suppose it gives new meaning when he says after work, he’s going home to his old dutch.

Westminster Abbey is filling up and we’re trying to spot Henry and Monica–they’re there somewhere–who d’ya think they borrowed the money from to put on this bash? I’m also interested to see if they show the member of William’s flight who’s supposed to be changing over from MtF and had been invited as long as she appeared as her alter ego–which says a lot about the newer generation and their acceptance of different people–couldn’t see his father being so accepting.

The two princes look resplendent in their military uniforms with enough gold braid to finance a bombing raid on Libya. William seems a little young to be a full colonel even an honorary one–but I suppose it pleases the Irish regiment he’s representing, Harry has his own uniform–both look quite dashing.

First glimpse of Kate–nah, can’t see the dress properly, will have to wait until she gets to the abbey. I made us all a cuppa and Simon reckons he saw Henry and Monica–typical, turn my back for a moment and a sneaky banker appears and disappears.

Finally we see the dress and it is just exquisite. “She looks as if she hasn’t eaten for at last a month,” observed Jenny, who is a bit plumper. At this point I had to feed our little Kate, who cooed and gurgled so loudly I couldn’t hear the marriage vows. I was a bit miffed that they still ‘give this woman’ — we’re not bloody chattels.

Then it was all over and they rode off in their open topped carriage back to the palace. While we’re waiting for the kiss on the balcony I got some lunch ready and we snacked on fresh bread, various cheeses and salad stuff while waiting for the kiss–then we got two–oh well good for her.

“Are you going to have a dress like that when you get married in Scotland, Mummy?” Asked Livvie.

“I’m too fat, darling and I’m not going on a diet for six months just to wear a dress.”

“You’re not fat, Mummy.”

“My boobs are bigger, so is my bum, than the Duchess of Cambridge and her waist is much smaller than mine.”

“Who’s fat?” asked Simon looking for a bottle of beer from the fridge.

“I am,” I said loading the washing machine.

“No you’re not, you’re beautiful–where’s the beer, Babes?”

“I think you drank it all and didn’t ask me to get any more.”

“You mean you let it run out and didn’t get anymore?”

“No, you let it run out because you’re the one who drank most of it and the onus is on you to remind me to get it. I rarely drink it.”

“Listen to that, Livvie. She’s neglecting me again–she knows she's supposed to keep a few bottles in the fridge for me.”

“Hang on a minute,” I said feeling angry, “It isn’t my job, nor will I accept it as my responsibility–you want beer–you go and buy it.”

“I think, Mummy’s right, Daddy,” said Livvie and I put my arm round her.

“That’s right, bloody women always stick together–I’ll go and get some myself then.” Which was exactly what I told him to do in the first place.

The phone rang and Julie dashed out to answer it–“It’s for you, Mummy.”

“Who is it?”

“They didn’t say.”

“You could have asked, “ I mumbled as I took the phone from her.

“Mumble, mumble mumble,” retorted Julie as she handed it to me.

“Hello?”

“Is that Lady Cameron?”

“Cathy Cameron, yes. Who is that?”

“Laura Lawrence.”

“Yes, what d’you want?”

“I’m a free lance journalist and I’d like to do an interview with you.”

“What for?”

“Oh I think you have loads to tell which my readers would be interested in.”

“I disagree–goodbye.”

“Lady Cameron, wait–how come you’ve been nearby when these mysterious healings have occurred.”

“I think you’re confusing me with Jesus–I have nothing to do with any of it.”

“That isn’t what eyewitness accounts state–they talk about a blue light emanating from you into the subject you heal–sometimes even bringing people back from the dead.”

“I think you really are confusing me with the guy from the New Testament, I make films about dormice not go round putting doctors out of business.”

“My eyewitnesses say you did.”

“Then they are clearly mistaken or deluded or lying–I hope you don’t pay them anything unless you file it under fiction or fairy stories.”

“What if I have a photo?”

“I have hundreds of photos–my children, my bicycles, my parents and so on.”

“A photo of you doing it?”

“It could have been photoshopped–can’t believe anything these days,”

“And we have a witness who saw you saving a deer.”

“I don’t know any deer personally, so why would I save one–unless it was in my freezer?”

“Very funny, you should have been a politician, Lady C.”

“No thank you, I failed the medical–had too much integrity.”

“Are you refusing to give me an interview?”

“Because you’re going to publish rot about me anyway?”

“Something like that, so you do have a chance to have input and correct mistakes.”

“I’ll leave that to your lawyers, Ms Lawrence, pick good ones because I will sue asap.”

“Oh we have pretty good ones, I haven’t been beaten so far, Lady Cameron.”

“Oh well let’s see if my petit bourgeois friends can change that a little.”

“I don’t think so, Lady C, so I shall go with my story that you might be some sort of angelic presence who goes around healing humans who are beyond mortal assistance.”

“I think I prefer the one about the woman journalist who was too lazy to do her research properly and went with popular misconceptions instead of what she knew from the first moment to be correct. See you in court.” I placed the phone down and went back to my chores.