The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1563 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

In bed it felt good to have Simon back, though I expect he was half afraid to say anything in case it set me off again.

“How’s the new job?”

“Lots of admin, but as the Government are saying we have to ring fence the retail part of the bank, possibly I’ve got quite an interesting time ahead.”

“So you’ll have all those minions under you?”

“Yep, we have nine hundred branches so multiply that by a dozen or two and you’ll see how many workforce I have. It’s the most intensively staffed part of the whole organisation.”

“So isn’t that a really important part of the bank?”

“Yeah, but we don’t make any money from it, clearing banks don’t make money.”

“What about all the loans and mortgages people have through you–those make money.”

“Overheads suck that up, remember we do pensions for our staff, free life insurance plus inflation. Interest is so low that it’s very difficult to make money. I suspect that on a bad afternoon, I made as much profit as the retail bank does in a whole year.”

“So why did they move you?”

“To get the FSA off our backs–they’re not going to prosecute because we set new directives for acquisitions. I wrote them while I was here and Dad passed them on to the legal team to tidy up.”

“You’re actually quite talented, aren’t you?” I said giving him a poke.

“Wow, recognition in my own lifetime. Major talent I seem to have is saying the wrong thing.”

“You’re not the only one, I’m pretty good at it too.” I paused and kissed him. “Where are you going to be based?”

“The HQ is in London, where we went the other day, you know, Canary Wharf.”

“You’ve got to go back to London?” I gasped, why this hadn’t occurred to me before I could only plead tiredness.

“I told Dad I’d go twice a week, but that I wanted a private office with a dolly bird secretary in Portsmouth.” I chose not to take the bait.

“Which days? London, I mean.”

“Gonna vary it, as necessary. With computers and so forth, I should be able to run a multinational from my own bed.”

“No you won’t.”

“I didn’t say I was going to, only that I could. All I need is a laptop and a secretary or two to pass things down the line and so on. Malcolm is retiring after Christmas, which is when I really take over, so I’ll inherit his PA, Joyce, who is forty something, still a bit of a looker but has a mind like a rapier. She’s kept him afloat for years. I offered her a nice rise in salary if she’d work with me.”

“And?”

“She said, yeah. So hopefully, I’ll be there a week or two before I cock up.”

“Are you working tomorrow?”

“I could say I have meetings, why?”

“I need to do some shopping without the girls being there, or Danny, for that matter.”

“Could probably get the morning off–hell, no, I have to meet that twit Osborne.”

“The Chancellor?”

“Yes.”

“I thought he was in Brussels tomorrow, saving the Euro or the IMF or something.”

“These guys all have private jets or use the train and come straight back. I’ll check tomorrow. What are you getting the kids for presents?”

“The girls–clothes, jewellery, some DVDs and so on. Danny, wants another pair of football boots, so I’ll get him a voucher and he can choose his own.

“Little Catherine, should enjoy this Christmas a bit, she’s crawling round enough to mean we’ll have to watch the tree. Last year, Puddin’ pulled the lights off if you remember?”

“Yes I remember, took forever to repair them.”

“I’m going to cook a turkey, a beef joint and some ham. I think that should see us over a couple of days.”

“That’ll do you, me an’ the dog, dunno about the others.”

“So no main presents for the kids then?”

“Si, I don’t see why we should spend lots of money we don’t need to. They all have laptops, they all have nice phones, and so on. They have to learn they can’t just have everything just because we could afford to buy it. I want them to recognise how fortunate they are compared to many other people. So I’ve also bought them a charity present.”

“You bought them a charity?”

“No a present from a charity–like a sheep or a goat for a family in Africa, or a dormouse group in Kent.”

“You’re buying dormice in Kent for Africa? Not much meat on ’em is there?”

“No, you fool, I’ve got Trish some dormouse vouchers for a wildlife group in Kent, and Danny a sheep or some chickens, can’t remember now.”

“How many sheep have I got?”

“Um–you endowed a hospital for two million pounds.”

“Oh, ok–How much?”

“Your face,” I laughed, “wait and see, but you have got one so has Stella and Caroline.”

“I suppose you’ll get another pair of tights will you?” He said referring to my birthday present from Caroline.

“It’s the thought that counts.”

“Exactly, how hard did she think?”

“She probably thought I had everything.”

“So, she could have given you penicillin.”

“What for?”

“What d’you give the woman who has everything? —Penicillin.”

“That’s not even funny.”

“Course not, unless you get Trish to tell it.”

“Oh don’t, that joke she told about the runny nose was excruciating.” I laughed thinking back to it.

“No–it was, What d’you do if your nose goes on strike–picket.”

“That is gross, Simon.”

“The problem is she doesn’t know what a picket is.”

“Should have seen the miners round Bristol when I was a kid.”

“Aye, ’appen, lass, been down’t pit f’ twenty years an’ niver come up, like.”

“Is that Monty Python?”

“No, that was pure invention–MP was, ‘Cross beam on’t treddle’s broke.’”

“I didn’t expect the Spanish Inquistion–that’s the one isn’t it?”

“Absolutely.”

“Please don’t run through it now I need to go to sleep.”

“Okay, but remember that’s for two reasons, I love you and I love you and–three reasons–there are three reasons why. No–amongst our reasons...”

“Simon, shut up.”

“Yes, Cardinal Biggles.”

I turned over and he continued with his improvised Monty Python sketch–my own fault I suppose. However, when I reached behind me and grabbed something short and curly–he just gasped and shut up.

The next morning at breakfast, Tom asked if we were going to light the fire in the lounge today–it was a bitterly cold day. Caroline went absolutely puce which Simon much enjoyed. So I asked him to light it, he shrugged and agreed. I also asked him to bring in some logs. We usually have a basket of logs and some coal in a scuttle–it burns longer than the logs and doesn’t spit quite so much. We’ve got loads of apple wood this year, Tom chopped down some old apple trees and replaced them with new. Apple wood is supposed to smell sweet when it’s burnt.

We discussed who was coming for Christmas Day, and Si said he’d invite Henry and Monica, though he thought they were going abroad. I asked Tom if he wanted to invite Pippa and her two boys. He told me they were going to stay with her new man.

“It’s just us then?” I asked.

“Looks like.”

“Who else d’ya want, President Obama?” asked Stella pausing to bite her toast.

“No, he smokes, so he’d have to stay out in the drive if he did that.”

“I’ll tell him, he might just change his mind now.”

“Am I bovvered?” I said in my best Catherine Tate impression.