The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1426 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

The next day, Danny was released from the hospital and he seemed to have no ill effects from the assault. The police of course were sceptical that one minute he’s at death’s door and the next he’s coming home with no scars.

They did however, agree, after pressure from Simon and the bank, to trace the phone. A raid was scheduled and a couple of men were arrested, one of whom had a history of robbery and mugging with violence, often bashing the victim with a piece of lead pipe. One such piece of piping was found and Simon who’d observed the raid saw one of the suspects hit a policeman and run up the road. Si pursued him in the car, and then jumped out and decked him–holding him until the police arrived.

There was talk of charging Simon with assault until the policeman who’d been knocked down during the attempted escape, spoke up in his favour and there had also been the suspicion that the escaper was carrying a knife.

Eventually, the CCTV at the hotel showed the thug, a man called Alfie Cawston, and his brother Dominic Cawston, in the hotel at the time of the attack on Danny. His wallet and phone were found in their possession and forensics were checking out the piece of lead pipe for any traces of Danny’s DNA on it, because it could well have been the weapon used.

The police were disgusted, a twenty five year old using a weapon to subdue an eleven year old child–had Simon not become involved, then one of the men might well have been found to have received a few bruises from resisting arrest. As it turned out, he got them from doing just that, only via Simon’s large fist.

Danny thought his dad was wonderful, so did I, but I couched it in a concern for his safety and the potential for him being charged with assault–because if he acquired a criminal record he might not be allowed to hold a directorship of the bank–that made him sit up and take notice. When Henry got to find out about it, he was effusive in his praise until I mentioned the potential for an assault charge. He shut up rather quickly too.

The days of the school holidays, weather permitting began to take on a regular pattern. Jenny looked after the baby while took the others out on bikes or running. We didn’t run far and they were fresher afterwards than I was.

We also played football, where Danny and Trish outclassed the rest of us–so each day they got some sort of exercise. Danny used Stella’s bike and Livvie needed a new one, so I bought some second hand ones via Ebay for Livvie and Meems.

With less chunky tyres on Trish’s bike, she seemed to keep up with the others athough I seemed to spend much of my time mending punctures, freeing jammed chains and at one point straightening a wheel after a crash.

I was actually feeling quite a bit fitter after two weeks of exercise–although, I was rising with Simon, doing a half an hour’s riding before the kids got up and I set up the turbo in the garage–but like an exercise bike–it’s brain numbing, unless you have the expensive one with a video screen and you can play in virtual races. They have one at the hotel and it’s good fun, but I wouldn’t justify the cost for a personal one. Mind you, half an hour on the turbo and I’d done the equivalent of ten to fifteen miles distance–on the road, I rarely got near that because of the traffic.

One Saturday morning Billie and Danny asked me to take them for a more challenging ride, so while Si distracted the others, we slipped out on the bikes. We did about ten miles keeping up a constant ten to twelve miles an hour, which for a couple of kids I thought was quite good.

On the return leg of our circuit, I raced off and did another lap while they headed for home–I caught them merely hundreds of yards from home. The next day, a Sunday, we did the same thing and the little twerps hammered home when I went off to do the second lap. They were back before I caught them.

I was determined to improve on my speed and time for that, so I continued my exercising and turbo riding, setting the machine to push me harder–my legs were jelly-like when I got off it and I nearly fell over a la Bridget Jones–remember the part in the first film when she got off the exercise bike and keeled over?

Simon seemed to be enjoying his role as a dad, playing football and cricket with the kids, mainly for Danny’s sake but I noticed that Trish and Billie could play them quite well when they thought no one was watching.

Danny had missed out on the soccer school because of his trip to Paris, but he felt he’d got the better deal, and he was sure he was going to be the first British rider to win every stage in the TdF. As no one has ever done that of any nationality, at least not in recent years, I suspect it might be easier to win the lottery each week.

To win one stage is pretty good going, to win twenty like Mark Cavendish, is outstanding and I think it’s appalling that his remarkable achievements are unlikely to ever get him the BBC Sports Personality of the year, because some knuckle dragging footballer or half-wit golfer will always beat minority sports like cycling. That professional cyclists are actually amongst the fittest athletes in the world, doesn’t seem to count in the world of the media dominated sports.
Having said that, Sky do sponsor the major British team, so they are putting something into the sport, by sponsoring British Cycling and Team Sky.

On the second week of our regular rides, Billie came to me with a problem. She normally tucks her genitalia back behind her, but of course you can’t do that and sit on a bike saddle without a risk of damage or at least great discomfort.

I tried to suggest that no one would see the little bulge in the front of her cycling shorts because they had a pad in them anyway, but she was still upset by her unwanted bits. In the end, we bought her a small racing shirt–a Team Sky one naturally–except I wasn’t paying for a Pinarello bike for her–which I altered. It was originally far too big for her, and I made it narrower, so it still draped down over her crotch when she was riding. It would have driven me mad, but she pretended she was Victoria Pendleton and the problem was resolved.

Of course, playing lots of sports there had to be some mishaps and it happened when Danny limped home from a cricket match with a broken finger. He assumed I could fix it–but I couldn’t and he was very disappointed in me.

Trish was disgusted that her blue light abilities seemed to have dried up as well, so it seems it was done through me in some way–I don’t know how. Part of me was relieved, it was a great responsibility–though it had come in useful a few times. I resolved not to let any of them go near a swimming pool unless the blue light returned.