The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1436 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I took my time showering and doing my hair, then dressing and doing my makeup–he wanted an aristocrat’s wife–I’ll give him one. I arrived downstairs wearing my best bib and tucker and smelling like a million dollars. Actually, I don’t know what a million dollars would smell like, so I improvised and used some Chanel No 5.

Simon was wearing a smart casual corduroy jacket in burgundy with some plain hopsack trousers. His shirt was open, but it was one of his handmade ones, so it always looks delicious.

The girls were in dresses and cardis and Danny was in his best trousers and shirt, with a zip up jacket. Tom was wearing a suit and Stella and Jenny were also togged up. It seemed like we were all going.

Moments later a minibus–luxury variety turned up and we all piled aboard. “Where are we going?” I asked.

“Wait an’ see,” was all he said, so I sat back and hoped Catherine wouldn’t puke on my best dress. Once we headed into Southsea, I knew or shall we say I was pretty sure where we were going. I wasn’t wrong, and the bus pulled up to the hotel where Simon could safely get staff discount.

We were led to the Green room, which as I’ve mentioned before is a very nice restaurant. The surprise was in being led to the same table at which were already sitting, Henry and Monica–of course the girls abandoned restaurant etiquette and rushed to see them and get a kiss and a hug. Danny followed a little more sedately and those of us carrying babes came last.

We all embraced and kissed. “Henry, Monica, what a lovely surprise,” I said as we seated ourselves with the help of the very attentive waiting staff. Catherine and Puddin’ were put into high chairs.

“My idiot son didn’t tell you I’d arranged this little get together?”

“No, he didn’t.” I looked daggers at Simon who’d pretended it was his idea.

“Are we celebrating something?”

“Yes, I’ve been granted visiting professor status at Edinburgh.”

“Oh wow, congratulations,” I said loudly and he nodded his acceptance of my compliment.

“Visiting prof of what?” asked Stella.

“Banking and banking history–seems like I have two idiot offspring.”

“Does it pay well?” she threw back at him.

“It’s an honorary title and I give one lecture a year.”

“It’s more a question of how much he pays them rather than they pay him,” said Simon trying to get his own back on his father.

“Sounds more like it,” agreed Stella, “Talk about buying degrees and things.”

“I have a degree and a doctoral degree, so I don’t think I have anything to prove.”

“Not in Ancient Babylonian banking methods, you don’t,” quipped Si.

“Is that what your doctoral thesis was in?” I asked Henry.

“A comparison of Babylonian and Mesopotamian banking methods and recording.”

“Gosh, how long did that take to research?”

“Two years–I spent so much time at the British Museum, they thought I was a member of staff.”

“So did you get to read all those clay tablet thingies?” I asked–it was more interesting than reading his book–of that I was pretty sure.

“Not at first, but by the time I finished I was translating them for the museum.”

“Wow, I think that’s amazing, reading something that hasn’t seen the light of day for thousands of years.”

“Yeah, like reading a laundry list,” Simon interjected.

“Most of it is pretty mundane, but it was fascinating to think people all those years ago lived similar lives to us.”

“Yeah, Mercedes Benz did a good line in chariots back then, even had a pocket for carrying your laptop.”

“iPod,” added Stella.

“Excuse my children, a supreme example of what happens when you have a policy of sparing the rod.”

“Huh, the only rod you knew was made of split cane and was used for catching salmon.” Simon was not going to let his father bask in any glory today.

“Talking of salmon, I’ve ordered for everyone–it’s salmon for the main course, with melon starters and lemon and lime sorbet for dessert–nothing too heavy for lunch.”

“Sounds fine by me, Henry,” I tried to keep things civil.

“Creep,” hissed Stella.

“Behave child,” said Henry to his daughter or I’ll disinherit you.”

“You did that last year, Dad,” reminded Simon.

“Did I, oh okay–I’ve reinstated you–I’ll disinherit you again tonight.”

“Such a loving family,” said Monica sighing deeply.

“They’re only playing,” I replied.

“Playing–so why do they use live ammunition?” she said back.

“It’s perfectly safe, Mon, he’s such a lousy shot he couldn’t hit a cow’s arse with a shovel,” Simon forgot the human tape recorder was present and she began chanting, ‘cow’s arse.’ Simon buried his head in his hands.

“Hello, little girl,” said the waitress to Puddin’.

Her reply wasn’t rocket science to predict–“Cow’s arse,” she said repeatedly and giggled. The waitress laughed and went off to get her some mashed potato and salmon.

“Here’s to Henry and his new professorship,” I said, raising my glass of champagne.

“Speech, speech,” called Jenny and Simon groaned not to encourage him.

“As dinner is on its way, I shall keep it short. Thank you to all of you for coming to celebrate this day with me. It’s quite a fillip for the bank and I shall try to uphold the great reputation we hold upon the high street...”

As Henry spoke Simon’s mobile rang and to my annoyance he answered it–getting up and walking from the table just as the melon arrived. He came back looking very serious. “Sorry to interrupt, Dad, the Hackney branch has just been attacked and set on fire.”

“You’re joking?”

“I wish,” he replied.

“Anyone hurt?”

“Not as far as we know.”

“That’s one blessing–sorry folks–looks like Simon and I are needed elsewhere.”

“Shouldn’t you eat something first?” Monica advised.

“I’ll have some sandwiches made up while we wait for the helicopter.”

“Can I come too?” asked Trish.

“Not today, Trish, it might get a bit dangerous.”

“Keep safe,” I wished both of them.

“We will, I’ve got a lecture to deliver yet.” Henry said leading Simon off towards the kitchen.

“That’s all we needed, these morons attacking a bank–now the police will be forced to do something.” Monica didn’t sound too impressed by the Metropolitan police.

“I think it’s quite difficult, the hooligans seem to be quite mobile and are using these things to plan and communicate.” I showed my Blackberry–apparently the approved mobile phone of the criminal protesting and looting class.

“I hope this won’t spread to Portsmouth,” noted Jenny.

“I think that’s unlikely–it’s mainly big cities that are being stirred up–London, Birmingham and Manchester.”

“And Bristol,” said Tom reminding everyone he was still there.

“I hope your house is safe, Cathy,” Monica said as she received her melon starter.

“So do I,” I agreed.

“Can we go and see?” Trish never one to miss a trick, floated a question.

“I don’t think it’s likely, sweetheart, it’s well away from the city centre and places like the Horsefair or Park Street are more likely targets.

“Would all the money be safe, Gran, I mean if they set fire to the bank?” Livvie had been obviously thinking about the problem for several minutes.”

“Yes, darling, the vault is pretty well bomb and fireproof, though they’d lose some in the ATMs and the trading floor.”

“The machines in the wall and where most of us go to speak to a bank teller or draw money out.”

“Oh,” said Livvie and we heard a helicopter land on the helipad on the roof.