The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1468 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

It was Saturday and apart from Danny playing football, we had no enormous commitments, other than checking the girl’s school uniform, which is what we did after breakfast. First off, shoes. They each needed new shoes–oh well, that’s the best part of two hundred pounds gone.

Working up from the feet, we checked socks and then tights–my list began to lengthen. The blazers were okay, at least for one more term, but skirts and blouses and cardigans needed some replacements. There was some recycling, Some of Trish and Livvie’s stuff was passed on to Mima. But I continued my list and we did underwear and finally coats. Thankfully, those were a little big to start with, if that makes any sense–I know what I mean.

Si went off to watch Danny play football, Jenny looked after the little ones and Stella and I went off school uniform shopping. We did most of it in two outfitter’s shops and spent a fortune. This was going to be Billie’s first full school year as a girl and I recalled how anxious I felt about Trish doing it–since she’s been converted, plumbing wise, no one could ever consider she has ever been anything but a girl, and quite a pretty little one.

Billie’s doing okay, though and she has relaxed quite a lot into her role although she’s still very self-conscious of a certain anatomical appendage. I know the feeling, and it was one I’ve never regretted losing.

We traipsed back to the car–I had the Mondeo–and loaded the assorted school clothing in it. Then we went for lunch. With the children accompanying us, it was pointless going anywhere special, they’re not old enough to appreciate great food or ambience–at the same time I wasn’t prepared to cross the threshold of a certain burger franchise. I’m happy to accept that fast food has its place–in my house the dustbin–and I know the kids love it and when they’re older they can take responsibility for clogging their arteries, but not while I’m directly in charge. We found a cafe which did children’s meals beyond sausage or fish fingers, beans and chips. In fact they did jacket potatoes for children and they were nearly as large as the adult ones but less than the cost of the adult ones.

Billie opted for a cheese and coleslaw one and the others opted for the same. For a change, I had tuna mayo with mine and some coleslaw as well. Stella decided she wanted chilli with hers, although she said it wasn’t very hot, as chillies go. I took her word for it, I don’t like them, full stop.

After we had a cuppa to wash down the food, and the children had ice creams, we returned to looting the shops–only in a figurative manner, we paid for all we took away.

I bought Danny some new shirts and underpants, and grey, sleeveless, vee necked sweater for school–the cold weather would be here quickly enough. The girls all had some new pens and pencils, for which their auntie paid and I found a lovely little dress and tights which I was sure would fit Catherine.

On the way home was the inevitable food shop and we bought some low fat sausages for tea, I was going to do sausage and mash–not one of my favourites, but it is enjoyed by most of the others. As with everything else, I had to buy three packs of sausages to make sure we all had enough.

On the return to home, after storing the shopping and getting a kiss and a hug from my husband, I set to organising the evening meal–he was delighted to be eating Cumberland sausages, despite them not being the circular form which I usually associate with the name.

Stella took the girls and gave them a hair cut–mostly just a trim, but she also showed them a couple more things they could do in terms of plaiting or pig tails. My sister in law is certainly much more talented at playing with hair than I am.

Once that was done, I left the sausages to cook in the oven and the tatties to boil on the top, allowing me time to check the new purchases before we put them away in the various wardrobes and drawers. I had some labels to sew by the look of it. I thought I might get Julie to help me–good practice for her. She quite enjoys simple embroidery like cross stitch, but as soon as I ask her to help me do ordinary sewing, like mending or labelling, she makes an excuse and clears off.

For once she stayed in that evening and I had her, Billie and Livvie helping me put labels in the girl’s school wear. Julie grumbled until I asked her to do Danny’s stuff as well, for which he brought her a drink of ginger beer. He was well pleased that his rather dishy elder sister sewed in his name tags, which seemed to please her. It pleased me too–I didn’t have to do it.

The kids settled down to watch some film in the lounge which Simon fancied as well. I had trousers to alter for Danny–just taking them up an inch–so I stayed in the kitchen where the light is best for sewing. Stella stayed and chatted with me and Jenny joined us, bringing down my wain with her. Of course I had to cease sewing and start feeding. Stella in just watching me began to seep through her bra and she expressed a full bottle of milk while we chatted–not easy over the buzzing of the pump.

“Did you spot that crossdresser?” she asked me.

“No, where was that?”

“In John Lewis, he or she was looking at skirts.”

Normally, I suggest that I can spot them a mile off in the dark, but I missed this one–in mitigation, I was trying to act as a human sheep dog and keep my flock together–they were all acting like sheep, or perhaps lambs would be a better description, they seemed to be gambolling all over the blessed shop.

“Passable?” I asked.

“I’ve seen better, but he wasn’t drawing too much attention to himself.”

“I think if they’re en-femme, it’s more polite to use feminine pronouns.” I challenged what seemed a little unsympathetic behaviour from Stella.

“It was Billie who spotted her.”

That didn’t exactly surprise me. Transgender folk seem to examine and analyse every seeming female they see and the slightest anomaly means they tend to stare until they make their minds up. They may or may not be looking for others, they might be simply admiring a certain look, in the same way that women check each other out for all sorts of reasons, some of which are more benign than others.

“I’m not surprised, Billie is actually much more aware of things than we give her credit at times.”

“But aren’t these people running a huge risk–if they get caught, it could ruin them.”

“Less than it used to be, I suppose if they’re top business people, politicians, judges or bishops–it might prove an embarrassment and halt their careers. Otherwise, do people care these days?”

“I’m not sure I’d be entirely happy with someone like that in the ladies,” said Stella making a face.

“Why, unless the door is missing, what difference does it make–and they can hardly use the gents, can they?”

“Aren’t I entitled to my opinion?” she grumbled.

“Of course you are, but you were so supportive of me, I thought you were okay with the whole idea?” Mind you, certain exhibitionist types used to annoy me, because the general public seems to tar us all with the same brush.

“You were different, you looked like a girl all the time.”

“Did I?”

“Yes, you were out riding in boy mode weren’t you?”

“Oh that day?”

“Yes, the day I introduced you to cycle flying.”

“Yeah, I suppose I was.”

“I’ve got news for you, sunshine, you still looked more girl than boy.”

“I’ll bet no one has ever said that to David Millar,” I recalled the Saunier Duval racing strip.

“Why, most of those racing types are pretty skinny?”

“He’s six feet four and usually covered in dark stubble.”

“He’d make a bloody ugly woman then,” agreed Stella and we stopped to make some tea.