The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1485 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

On returning home I briefed the others about what had happened and they agreed we needed to be more vigilant. I went down to the end of the drive and closed the gates. I sent Si a text warning him–they’re usually open. He sent one back acknowledging it–so if he crashes into them, it’s his own fault.

I called Maureen and asked her to make enquiries and get some quotes for making the gates electronically controlled. Electrifying them would have been good, but I suspect a teensy bit illegal–I wonder if fried journalist smells as bad as it sounds?

About five Simon called. “I’ve spoken to our legal eagle and he suggested putting out a general statement to the press.”

“Is that wise, might encourage more of the buggers?”

“He thought it would show that she has no case to make, but one to answer, and the problem is not our vindictiveness but her stubborn stupidity.”

“You have all the facts?”

“I think so–what’s with the gates?”

“We encountered two sewer rats at the school, the headmistress had to see them off,” he laughed at my account, in relating it to him I was reminded that Trish still had the encounter on her phone, including the bit where the head mistress was rather direct in her speech. I put down the phone from Simon and went off to find Trish.

From the giggles emanating from the dining room, she’d already downloaded the clip to her computer–she had. I warned her in no uncertain terms that if she ever showed it to anyone else outside the family or tried to use it against Sister Maria, I would punish her like never before. When I explained it would involve systematically destroying her computer and mobile phone as well as anything else that took my fancy, I think she got the point.

Livvie looked at me in horror, “You wouldn’t smash her laptop, would you, Mummy?”

I picked hers up and asked if she’d like me to demonstrate. She went rather pale and asked me not to damage her computer. I put it down and she thanked me then bit her bottom lip trying not to cry.

“I’m sorry if that seemed rather a brutal threat, but I want you all to realise that I expect certain standards of behaviour from you all, and if you wilfully disregard them, there will be very serious consequences.

“At this moment, as you appreciate, we’re under siege by the press again. I don’t want any of you to talk with them however harmlessly you think it is. Any quote you give them can be deliberately misrepresented and used against us. So say nothing.”

“Why are they so nasty to us, all the time?” asked Livvie who had calmed down.

“It’s not all the time, but we are a rather special family for all sorts of reasons.”

“Is that ’cos Trish an’ Billie aren’t proper girls?” she continued.

“That’s part of what makes us special, but please, never let me hear you describing your sisters as anything but female. Trish is now legally female, and as much a girl as you–apart from not being able to have babies, and we don’t know if Mima or you will be able to do that either.”

She’d obviously never considered that before and looked perplexed.

“But I’m a real girl an’ they can have babies can’t they?”

“Livvie, the process of pregnancy is very complex and there are quite a significant number of women who can’t have babies for all sorts of reasons.”

“It’s not that complex, Mummy,” interrupted Trish, “one of Daddy’s squirms comes out of his willie and swims up your angina and formalises an egg.”

I had to look away especially when Mima asked how it got through the shell of the egg. Livvie just looked disgusted and Billie looked confused. “I don’t think I want anyone’s squirms swimming up me,” she said and I had to leave the room.

My computer pinged and I opened my mailbox to find an email from the bank’s legal department, it was a statement which they would like my thoughts on before they released it.

It covered all the salient points accurately, mentioned the film from the supermarket showing the car hitting mine. It also confirmed that the intention of the action was to recover the costs of the repairs, which Miss Alcott was pretending to know nothing about, when clearly she did. That was it brief but to the point with no name-calling, simply stating the facts. I hoped it showed that there was no story other than that of a silly old fart who shouldn’t be driving.

I replied back to the legal department giving it my approval and they acknowledged and told me they’d distribute it immediately via their press officer. I didn’t know they had one. Hopefully, that was the end of that–but I was too much of a realist to believe life was that straightforward–Murphy’s law applied to everything–what can go wrong will go wrong. I also learned that putting a cover over the fan doesn’t keep all the excrement out, but it helps.

I checked the freezer, we had plenty of food–at least enough for a whole week if not two. I had loads of the bread mix and yeast so we could also have fresh bread. We had loads of potatoes and other fresh veg so, we’d survive as long as we could keep the invaders out. I was also aware that fortresses keep the inhabitants prisoners inside as much as they keep the attackers outside. Life always has consequences.

The next consequence was Tom. I forgot to let him know about the gates being shut and he drove into them. Thankfully, all he did was scratch his Freelander, but he destroyed one of the gates and bent the other. He was quite exercised about it until I explained that I’d been pestered by the press when collecting the girls. I also apologised for not telling him about the gates being closed. Oh boy.

Half an hour after phoning Maureen, she appeared with two men and they set about repairing the gates, as a temporary measure. She informed me that someone was coming to give a quote for electronically controlled gates and either CCTV type entry control or a voice one–or even both.

I asked where we’d put up the machine gun towers and she laughed rather vigorously, then asked if we wanted tank traps in the drive. Seeing as we don’t have too many come up the drive, the missile launcher would be sufficient.

“Have you ever seen one of those?” she asked me.

“One of those?” I asked, wondering exactly what she meant–I mean, in school, one of those usually meant what the others called me.

“Yeah, an anti-tank missile, the mess it makes is pretty comprehensive and the crew are turned to baked mince inside.”

I felt quite ill as my imagination threw an image of such horror across my internal visualisation system. How can we do such things to each other? Is it any worse than chopping each other up with swords–other than being more clinical and remote.

I'd seen and caused some horrible things even in my short life span, but the horror of full blown warfare, with both sides trying to kill and maim as many of the other side as possible, made me feel quite ill. I wondered how many of our young servicemen would bear the emotional as well as physical scars of such encounters.

I wondered too, about what it was that made young men want to get involved in such things–they must know the risks–or does testosterone and the chance of an adrenaline buzz make them feel invincible? Young men like a scrap–I’d never felt that way–no surprise there then.