The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1385 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I finally got a little cuddle of the baby, and thankfully she stayed asleep–what I’d have done if she’d smelt milk–I hate to think. However, it did remind me to head home to sort out my own little bundle of joy.

I made my goodbyes and set off for home–it was nearly two on a Sunday morning, Father’s day–oh poo. What with the play and everything, I’d completely forgotten, and nowhere is open at this time of night, dammit.

As I drove back I called in at the motorway services–I managed to find a card which all the kids could sign, and picked up a different one for me to give to Tom. He was instrumental in helping me make my transition, and he’s nice old chap who has been like a father to me at times. I also know that while he won’t expect one, if he doesn’t get one he’ll be very disappointed.

I also managed to get a stack of car stuff–albeit at rip off prices–for Simon, from the kids: a chamois; a tyre pressure gauge; some car polish and a Jaguar key fob. About thirty pounds lighter I got back in the car and drove home–I got to bed at four–knowing I needed to be up again in three or four hours.

Simon grunted in his sleep when I slipped into bed but smiled when I pecked him on the cheek. Minutes later he had his arm round me and I felt his warm body behind me. My head was still buzzing from the drive and forgetting to buy some proper Father’s day stuff, so sleep was the one thing I couldn’t do. I even tried asking the blue light to help me relax but nothing happened.

I must have gone off in the end because I woke up feeling like you know what–it’s brown and sticky an doesn’t smell of chocolate. Trish was poking me and telling me it was father’s day in a very loud whisper–Si would have had to have been in coma or deaf not to hear it. In fact I think I heard him chortle.

“Mummmeee, wake up–it’s Father’s Day–and we haven’t got anything for Daddy.”

Do I care? At this instant no–in fact I was thinking if I killed him quickly I wouldn’t have to bother with Father’s bloody day. Then something inside me suggested that might be a trifle unwise, so I did wonder if I could pretend that I thought it was still Saturday–except I was rehearsing yesterday. Oh poo–oh yes, the plastic bag in the kitchen–assorted motorist’s bits–sounds like I carved up some drivers, literally.

I fell out of bed and staggered into the bathroom for a wee with Trish pulling on my nightdress the whole time. “Let go, will you, I’ll wee on it,” I snapped at her and she stepped back sharply.

“I was only trying to warn you it was father’s day.” She said holding back the tears, she cries very easily if I’m at all sharp with her–hormones, perhaps?

“I know, darling, I know.” I offered her a hug and she threw herself at me. “Mummy’s very tired, I didn’t get to bed very early–but you have another girl cousin, Fiona Catrin.”

“Oh that is sooo nice, Mummy, is she coming to live with us?”

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

“I don’t know–look, I told you I was tired, c’mon let’s get some breakfast.”

As we went down, the other girls joined us and I had a kitchen full of girls when we arrived. I got them all to sign the card for both Si and Tom. Then Trish got the job of running up stairs to get Danny and Julie to sign them. While she was doing that I looked out some little fancy gift bags and we loaded all the car stuff into separate bags. They all now had a present to give Simon. Trish was back with the card and Danny staggered down after her. He stopped to give me a kiss on the cheek as he stumbled half asleep into the kitchen. I could get to like this.

I made them eat before they–well the girls–went rushing up the stairs to jump on Simon, who if he had any sense would lock himself in the bathroom–but knowing he hasn’t, he’d get jumped on.

I ate a quick bowl of cereal and some fruit, drank my tea and after feeding Catherine and Puddin’, went up for a shower and the hope it would wake me up. By the time I was dressed and downstairs, Tom was back from his dog walk–we gave him his card and the bottle of single malt I keep hidden for such occasions–I’d need to replace it. He was suitably pleased and although he thanked the children, he winked at me, and I got peck on the cheek as well.

Julie came down grumbling about the time on a Sunday and I reminded her that she was helping with the play. She’d forgotten, so did my plaits before getting her breakfast–then at ten, we left to do another day of rehearsals.

Just before we left, Simon appeared and thanked me for my input to his presents–he was really pleased with them. He kissed me and the girls all jumped on him again. Jenny came down looking very sleepy–she’d apparently waited up for me until nearly three, watching some film of which she couldn’t even remember the title, but it had some famous actor in.
At the school, I struggled to stay awake and in the end, Gordon picked on me and I burst into tears–Julie gave him what for and told him why I was so tired. He came over and apologised and made me go and have a snooze in my car.

I was gone for about an hour after which I felt much better–then with a coffee and a biscuit, I was a bit more like my normal self. We did bits out of sequence before lunch, then stopped for a meal which Iain had apparently ordered from a local catering service–it was delicious, lots of fresh rolls, fruit and salad. It will come as a total surprise that I had a tuna filled brown bread roll, with some salad and then a piece of fruit–washed down with a bottle of still water and a cuppa.

We’d rehearsed the sleepwalking scene just before and Gordon had made me work hard at it–we did it three times before he was happy and I was on my knees–Judy Dench, I am not.

Then after lunch, we ran through the whole thing again and I was dreading it–the sleepwalking scene–but at the end Gordon applauded me and told me I was now doing it better than ever–probably still pretty awful but I was beyond caring–home and sleep–in that order was all I was thinking.

On the drive back, Julie told me how brilliant I was in the sleepwalking scene–I told her to watch Dame Judy on Youtube and she’d change her mind, she pooh-poohed the suggestion.

I dragged my weary body into the house and Simon told me that he and Tom had arranged for us all to eat out for dinner–so to get myself tidied up. I’d have willingly gone without food just to sleep–but I knew they’d be disappointed if I didn’t go. I also thought I’d have to drive, but they’d organised a minibus for us all. Maybe I could catch forty winks on that?