The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1632 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Puddin’s birthday had come and gone as had the rest of February–goodness have we done a sixth of the year already? I must sound like some old biddy, or maybe time does go faster when you’re busy. Being bored doesn’t seem to be an option in my life, though sometimes it might be nice to remember what it felt like.

Actually, no it wouldn’t, because it usually meant I was waiting for my parents to go out or go to bed so I could do some sewing or change my clothes. I daringly wore a nightdress for a couple of weeks then had it confiscated while it was drying. It was only a cheap one I bought in Peacocks for about a fiver, but it was another hit by the Stasi on my freedom. I didn’t buy another until I went away to Sussex and I left it locked in my locker in the uni when I went home for holidays.

Puddin’s party–she was three–crikey, I remember her being born–was it three years ago? Must have been if she’s three. She’s a proper little girl now and talks all the time, occasionally still doing her human tape recorder act, she occasionally plays with Mima and her dolls; though she also likes drawing and colouring things with her crayons–like the wallpaper in the lounge. Took us hours to get it off and that was with a steam cleaner thing.

Her party, oh yeah, well she goes to nursery three times a week so we had half a dozen three year olds racing round the place, treading jelly and chocolate biscuits into the carpets and generally running amok while their parents chatted amongst themselves or looked on–presumably happy it was someone else’s home that was being trashed–and these vandals were little girls–so much for the fairer sex.

It took us all day to clear up from that before the place felt like mine again. It’s not a palace but it’s relatively clean and tidy unless the kids are home. Danny leaves his bag anywhere, I fell over it once when I was walking backwards from the fridge with a tray of ice cubes. He got a piece of my mind that day.

So Monday the twenty sixth of February arrived and the girls were so excited they were going to meet with Jacquie when they got home. I reminded Trish she had football practice and she sulked all the way to school. The other two go as well but they enjoy it–I think Trish does too but she pretends she doesn’t. She hasn’t mentioned stopping yet at any rate and is still their top scorer with six goals from five matches. That’s on more than ‘Stanley Matthews’, who’s got five and a sore toe.

I settled Jacquie in when I got back from the school run. I showed her where everything was and gave her a rundown of my usual schedule about changing beds and what I cooked and so on.

She’d let drop she had a provisional licence and after lunch, she went out for a driving lesson I’d arranged for her. Her face was a picture when the instructor came to collect her. I left to get the three mouseketeers before she got back.

The drive home was a nightmare with three over excited schoolgirls bouncing on the back seat. Trish had scored another goal–apparently it wasn’t a practice but a match against another girl’s team. They won, one nil. Trish was full of herself and the other two were quite excited too and wound her up even more.

I parked in the drive and locked the car doors before we got out. “Right, girls, i don’t want you rushing in there and upsetting people. Go in put your stuff away–Trish put your washing in the utility room–I want you all to go up and change and once you’ve done that I’ll introduce you to Jacquie. Anyone who tries to make a short cut will be sent upstairs to stay there until dinner. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Mummy,” said three dissident voices.

I had suggested Jacquie should hide in her room when she heard us coming back to give me a chance to control the rabble. Of course, Danny was first home and he thought she was hot. Mind you he thinks anything in skirts is hot, including his older sister–I suppose she is come to think of it, a very pretty girl with delightful figure, which since her surgery has developed even more. I hope I don’t sound jealous–nah, I don’t really want to wear those short-shorts and tights, even though I have reasonable legs.

The girls did as they were told and then assembled in the kitchen for a drink and a slice of pineapple. Then I sat them down and went up to get Jacquie, she said she felt quite nervous–Julie had had told her about our very own Isaac Newton, when she’d taken her to collect the bags she wanted to send here.

I led Jacquie down to the kitchen where our shoal of piranhas were waiting to strip the flesh of her bones. To my astonishment the girls acted very politely introducing each other as I asked them. Livvie’s introduction of Trish was really funny and had them all giggling and me laughing out loud as well.

“This is my slightly older sister, Trish. She is very, very intelligent–in fact Mummy thinks she has a bigger brain than a blue whale–which is why she smells slightly of salt water and plankton. Did you know they eat krill and stuff–though of course Trish doesn’t–she likes chocolate and roast beef–not at the same time, of course. We’re both seven. Trish likes to ask awkward questions, so Mummy says, it’s just her way of showing her intellectual–is that right?–superiority. Mummy says she’s a clever dick.”

“This, girls, is Jacquie, who has agreed to help us out while she waits to get to college. She’s very nice but is still learning the ropes, so please be patient and help her to learn where things are kept and how we do our routine. Anyone who tries to make fun of her or takes advantage of her not knowing everything, will face my wrath.”

“What’s roth, Mummy?” asked Livvie.

“It’s what God does with men every so often,” quipped Trish.

“Yes, the Dies Irae. But I warn you he’s got nothing on me.”

“No, Mummy, it’s nothing to do with Desiree. It’s about God doing a hissy.”

Jacquie snorted and I shook my head, Livvie seems to have picked up Trish’s ability to mangle words.

“No, Liv, Dies means God, and Irae means rage, fury or wrath.” I wrote it down for her.

“Dies early, funny language Latin.” She muttered to herself–I had to agree the way she read it.

Later on that evening, I asked Jacquie how she felt after her first day. “After the way you treated me on Friday I shouldn’t have been surprised by the way you treat your children. You show them so much love yet there’s some discipline there too. I think I’m going to enjoy working for you.”

“Oh good, I’m looking forward to having you working with me, too.” We finished our cups of tea and she went off to bed to watch her telly and I went to my study to do some more survey work.