The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1673 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

It was Saturday morning, Easter Saturday, if there is such a day and I found myself up and making breakfast for millions of children all wanting something different. I was just about tearing my hair out when the front doorbell rang. I despatched Trish to answer it. She returned a moment later.

“Mummy, there’s a man at the door.”

“Who is he?” I asked and she handed me a business card. Jeremy Kite, Solicitor. I handed over to Jacquie and went to find out what he wanted, although I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be good news.

I went to the door, there dressed in an expensive sports jacket and slacks was a man, aged about thirty eight maybe forty, who was in good shape although his hair combed forward showed he was balding a little.

“Mr Kite?” he nodded at my question. I wasn’t going to invite him in without knowing what he wanted. “How can I help?”

“I’m just verifying you live at this address, Mrs Cameron.”

“And why would you do that?”

“So I can serve this on you.” He handed me some papers and turned on his heel. “Good day to you, see you in court.”

I looked at them, his client, Nathan Cock, I kid you not, was seeking damages for my unwarranted attack upon his person. Underneath was another set of papers for, Luther Lavelle, who was also seeking damages for my attack upon his person.

How did he get in, this solicitous solicitor? I watched his BMW drive out of the open gates. Simon was last in, so did he forget to close the gates? I went and got my bleeper and they closed now.

Simon emerged from the kitchen carrying a cup of coffee. I showed him the papers. He shook his head. I raised the matter of the gate being open and he shrugged–he couldn’t remember and it was raining when he came in. I’d ask Maureen to check them.

I called Jason and left a message on his voice mail. I also called James and asked him to check out the two claimants, I wanted every bit of dirt he could find, he could also check out our flying solicitor, Mr Kite. James was out too; so I left the info on his voice mail.

Was this going to be a day of frustrations? I scanned the two sets of documents into my computer and sent them as emails to Jason and James. I had no doubt that if these were the two thugs who attacked me, that we’d go to court and win any case hands down, if only because we could afford a better barrister: that we were innocent seemed a lesser factor.

I spent the rest of the morning making bread, and warming the hot cross buns I’d bought yesterday and forgotten about. The kids would all get a bar of chocolate for Easter, I refused to buy overpriced eggs for them. I also wanted to put some flowers on Billie’s grave. I asked Trish if she wanted to come with me and she did. We slipped away in the car, collected the flowers I’d ordered and we drove to the cemetery.

The grave looked a little tired, so I took the stiff brush out of my bag and brushed it down, removing dust and moss. Trish stood by holding the flowers with their own reservoir in the plastic that encased them. When I’d finished, I washed the stones with a vase of water and then Trish laid the bouquet on the grave, in the recess provided. “Happy Easter, Billie, Gran and Auntie Catherine. We miss you, sis.” She sniffed and stepped back. “I can’t see her today.”

“Perhaps she’s busy elsewhere,” I suggested, not sure if she’d ever seen anything here–I couldn’t, so she could be mistaken. However, I spoke to the grave and wished them all peace and love. Then before I started to tear up, I steered Trish away and back to the car.

I get really confused by a lot of this. My head tells me when you’re alive, make the best of it because once you’re dead, that’s it, fini. Yet seemingly sincere and apparently sane people claim experience of seeing or hearing people they know to be dead. I suspect it’s simply wishful thinking, we all want to believe that they wait for us in some sort of heaven or paradise. There’s no evidence, despite hundreds of books claiming to offer proof, none do.

There is suggested evidence for out of body experience and near death, but it could all be related to a shocked or dying brain, which flooded with endorphins, allows the most wonderful opiate type trips for the expiring individual. These may or may not include the usual tunnel of light stuff, visions of deceased loved ones and so on.

I’ve seen programmes on the telly which suggest people have had such experiences and survived, able to relate what doctors were talking about or describe the emergency room and so on. I’m not convinced because we have ways of absorbing information which are so subtle, we’re not even aware we’re doing it.

Then I’ve had weird experiences of my own, including lucid dreams involving my mother. Now whether that’s some form of grief, I have no idea, but I suspect it’s more likely than being visited by the dead. However, I won’t try to dismiss Trish’s experiences, perhaps she can do something I can’t and pick up on these ethereal energies.

We stopped off to fill up the tank in the car. “I like this car, Mummy, I think I’ll drive Jaguars when I grow up.”

“Assuming there’s any oil to run them,” I said matter of fact.

“Oh yes, there should be as they improve techniques for removing the oil they left behind in empty wells. They leave about forty per cent of the oil because it becomes too expensive to recover.”

“I see, so you’re going to invent a way of doing that, are you?”

“I could I suppose, but I’d like to be an astrophysicist, like Brian Cox.”

“He’s a particle physicist.”

“Okay, I’ll be a particle physicist then.”

“Fine, so you’ll resolve the oil well question on your day off, will you?”

“I’ll see.” She looked so serious. I mean how many eight year olds have even heard of astrophysics? Perhaps Livvie could sort out the oil question, or even Meems, although I see her as more inclined to midwifery than chemical engineering. As for Danny–I have no idea what he wants to do, and as long as he’s happy, I don’t care. We still need plumbers and motor mechanics, in the same way I feel happy if Julie remains in hair dressing or beauty–because she seems to be enjoying it more than when she started and her college course has improved her vista of what is possible. I’m sure if and when she’s ready, Simon will be able to arrange a low cost loan to start her own business. Though, I suspect a large hadron collider will be beyond even his deep pockets, so Trish might have to stay with mainstream academia, like I have.

Still, I’m quite happy counting dormice and telling people about it.