The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1480 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

After the euphoria of the World Championships we discovered the Argentine had beaten Scotland in the rugby, so Simon had been saved an embarrassment, or so I tried to assure him. He wasn’t convinced–mind you neither was I.

“Why should I be embarrassed about seeing Scotland lose, they do it often enough.”

“But against the Argentine.”

“It’s not like being beaten by Namibia–I mean if Wales get beaten tomorrow, they’ll never be able to show their faces in the world cup again.”

“Why who are they playing tomorrow then?”

“Who are who playing?” he asked looking more blank than usual.

“Wales–remember, I used to live across the river from them, fortunately the woad wearers weren’t that good at swimming.”

“I just told you–Namibia, Wales play Namibia–they should put at least fifty points on them.”

“Who–Wales on Namibia or t’other way round?”

“Wales should stuff Namibia–that clear enough?”

“Very, sorry to seem a dummy but I don’t know much about sport.” I shrugged as I apologised.

“So where did Cancellara come in your bike race?” he asked.

“Fourth, beaten by Greipel in a photo finish.”

“And who was second?”

“Matt Goss, the Aussie.”

“Defending champion?”

“Hushovd, he got held up by the crash so didn’t contest the sprint.”

“And the make of bike Cavendish rode?”

“Specialized, not sure if it’s a Tarmac SL3 or the Venge.”

“So you don’t know much about sport?”

“No, you know I don’t?”

“Have Britain won the world championship before?”

“D’you mean men’s or women’s?”

“Men’s.”

“Yeah, Tom Simpson won it in 1965, the women have won it four times, the most recent being Cooke in 2008.”

“And you still don’t know anything about sport?”

“No, I already said so.”

“Who won the Ashes?”

“England.”

“Who are the defending Rugby World Cup holders?”

“South Africa, I think.”

“Who won the football world cup?”

“Spain? Not sure.”

“And you still know nothing about sport?”

“No, I keep telling you.”

“I see, I suppose you don’t know much about dormice either?”

“I have been known to write the odd paper on them and a book and a film–but there’s lots I don’t know.”

“Geez, Cathy, you should be on Mastermind–you have a better general knowledge than most people.”

“Sez who?”

“I do, for someone who knows nothing about sport you seem quite up on cycling with a reasonable amount of knowledge on other major sports.”

“I couldn’t tell you who won the golf or the baseball–hang on I know the golf was some Irish bloke.”

“Baseball is hardly important over here is it, like football or rugger isn’t to the colonials over the pond.”

“I thought the Americans played soccer and rugby?”

“They do babes, but not terribly well.”

“Didn’t they beat England once at football? I’m sure I saw something ages ago in the Guardian.”

“Probably, let’s face it, England got knocked out of the soccer world cup by a team from a girl’s blind school.”

“Which was further than Scotland or Wales got.”

“They do have a slightly larger base to pick from, a population of fifty million against five and three million respectively.”

“A bit like the cycling team–let’s see, Thomas is Welsh, Millar is Scots, Cavendish is Manx, Froome is Kenyan–the rest are English, I suppose.”

“That was a GB team wasn’t it?”

“Course–the others wouldn’t be in an England team would they?”

“Here’s a question you can answer.” Simon smiled and I wonder if it was going to be a trick one.

“Go on.”

“What time’s dinner–I’m starving.”

“Half an hour, I need to get some veg on.”

“Oh good–I’m going for a dip in the bath–to soothe my aching back.”

He went up and I rushed into the kitchen and checked the casserole–it was done. I quickly sorted the spuds and put them on to boil, using water from the kettle to speed things up. I did some curly Kale and some carrots and got everything ready to eat in half an hour or so.

At five, at least half an hour from when Simon went up to bathe, I decided to warn him dinner was ready. Livvie had done the table–Trish was moving satellites about on her computer, so we were almost ready to eat. I called up the stairs–no answer–he’s gone to sleep. I was tempted to send the girls up armed with some cold water–that would wake him up–knowing my luck he’d have a coronary.

I walked up the stairs calling him, I finally heard a muffled response and went to speak to him–he’d obviously fallen asleep. I knocked on the door and went into the bathroom–unlike the woman who wrote to an agony aunt–‘I’ve caught my husband masturbating three times in the bathroom, what should I do?’ The response was one word–‘Knock’.

Simon looked as if he’d just woken up and the water was cooling. “I’m waiting to dish up dinner,” I said looking at his bemused expression.

“I can’t move,” he said.

“What you’re stiff?”

“No–my back’s locked–I can’t get out of the bath.”

Now it was my turn for the bemused expression, “You can’t stay there,” Uttered from my lips without getting clearance from my brain.

“Suggestions for getting me out would be much appreciated.”

“Get rid of the water to start with.”

“I can’t reach the plug, can I?”

“I can,” I pulled on the chain and heard the water rushing down the drain. Five minutes later I offered him a towel to cover his nakedness. “C’mon, dinner’s spoiling.”

“I can’t can I?”

“C’mon I’ll help you.”

“You watch out or you’ll hurt yourself, I’m hardly a lightweight, am I?”

We began struggling and somehow we managed to get him onto the edge of the bath, where at least I could dry him and wrap him in a towelling robe. I tried healing on him but nothing happened.

“I know, as potatoes did this, if I rub you down with a spud you should get better–that’s how homeopathy works isn’t it–hair of the dog and all that?”

He laughed and groaned.

I called Stella, and between us we got him to the bed and I stuffed pillows behind him to sit him up, “I’ll bring some food up on a tray.”

“I don’t feel very hungry.”

“I don’t care–you eat and I’ll bring up some painkillers–you’re not taking them on an empty tum.”

“Okay–I’ll try not to die until I’ve eaten.”

“What?” I gasped.

“Joke,” he said but sounded less convincing than usual.

For the next hour I was running up and down stairs with food and pills and then drinks–Stella and Jenny did help me feed the mob and clear up–but I took the brunt of things again.

Maureen phoned about something and I mentioned Simon’s problem, she turned up soon after with a heat pad which we shoved behind him and switched it on. It seemed to help. She also gave me the name of a physiotherapist who visited. I left a message on her ansafone.

I helped Si to the loo before we went to bed. I was knackered as in totally. He looked to be pretty tired as well–I suspected we wouldn’t be growing spuds next year.

I kissed him as I got into bed and he groaned about his back. I started rubbing his thigh–“I fancy you something rotten,” I said as seductively as I could.

“Ha bloody ha,” he said and groaned, “bitch,” was an afterthought. Mind you I deserved it and I did snigger.