The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1749 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Once I’d dumped the girls in school, I dashed off to buy them some summer clobber to take on holiday, mainly shorts and tops, some swim wear and a couple of beach towels as well. I know they were going to Henry’s villa and most of the linen should be there, but I considered they might like their own towels. For the girls I got assorted designs with fish or sun on them. Danny I managed to get one with Chelsea FC on it.

I was also buzzing wondering if Simon and I might get to watch a bit of le Tour, and was daring enough to buy myself a pair of shorts–not these hot pants things the youngsters are wearing–usually the ones with legs like tree trunks, but proper shorts–actually a bit like cargo ones.

I spent the rest of the day doing some more of my survey stuff, jealous that someone had seen wild otters on the river Stour, just over the border in Dorset. Mind you, I can’t remember the last time I saw a dormouse, now that I had enough volunteers to run the scheme. I just collate the results, or more correctly, I supervise a third year student doing that.

I got the girls who were wound up like mad, another week and they finish school. Danny does the week after, so I had to phone the school and tell them he was finishing a week early.

Back at home I showed them their towels, you can guess who was most pleased–he’s going to use his for school afterwards, and walked around the rest of the night with a huge grin on his face. The girls I let choose between them–for which translate–I let them fight over who got which one.

At tea time, I’d left the gates open for Julie and the two men, when a camper van drove in. I was horrified, was someone going to knock on the door and ask for directions? They’re a damn nuisance on the road, not as dangerous as caravans who seem intent of killing cyclists, but nearly so.

I was wiping my hands as I stormed towards the door to send him off with a flea in his ear. Then a car drove in which I didn’t recognise either. I got to the door as the bell rang.

“Yes?” I said gruffly.

“Delivery for Simon Cameron.”

I looked at the man, but all he had in his hands was a clipboard, which he asked me to sign. He then took me over to the camper and explained how everything worked.

“Excuse me, I’m only his wife, but has he bought this or just hired it?”

“Hired it, I think,” he looked at his pad, “Yeah, we collect it in three weeks, it’s insured for the continent–you’re going to France, aren’t you?”

I nearly kissed him.

“Yes, we’re going to watch some of the Tour de France.”

“Oh cycling fans?”

“Yes,” I beamed while trying to look athletic.

“Prefer F1 myself.” He handed me the keys bid me adieu and got into the car which had followed him in.

Simon arrived an hour later. “Ah, it arrived then?”

“You might have told me,” I accused.

“And spoilt your surprise?”

“I thought we had a bunch of travellers camping in the drive when I looked out the window.”

“Cathy, not many of them have state of the art mobile homes, now do they?”

“I suppose not, I just wish you’d warned me it was coming.”

“I’ve managed to scrape together four days and a weekend, we’ll spend two of them travelling, but at least we can get with the action. I got my secretary to book campsites for us, so they should be good. This has sat nav, so we won’t have to rely on you to get us completely lost.”

“I don’t know if I can drive something that big.” It had to be about thirty feet long.

“No prob, I’ll do the driving, you can make the tea.”

“Hadn’t you best book the ferry?”

“All done–all we have to do is organise the food and pack our clothes.”

“I can’t believe you hired a truck,” I said to him.

“It’s a state of the art...”

“Mobile home, I know; I still think it looks like a truck and some of the roads in France are so narrow.”

“Yes, well as soon as we get over there, we collect a car.”

“A car?”

“Why are you repeating everything I say?”

“Why am I repeating...?”

“Yes, why?”

“What do we need a car for if we have a pantechnicon of our own?”

“So we can get to the narrow places where they race. I’ve arranged for a small car, which we hook on the back and tow it along as we go, then we leave this at the campsite and go off in the car–don’t forget a baby seat.”

I was astonished, we’re hiring a camper van which we’ll be using as a caravan, and hiring a car as well. We’d have been better renting some hotel rooms and driving one of our cars to the race stages and back, perhaps moving each day with the race. I said this to Simon.

“I tried that, there was nothing available–hence the juggernaut.”

“But won’t the campsites be just as busy?”

“Yes, but I pulled some strings and got on to a colleague from the Bank Of France, and he’s arranged for us to park in a different chateau every night.”

“We’re staying at a series of chateaux?”

“Yeah, they’re all hotels who are booked up, but they’re going to allow us to park up there and connect to mains electric. Now this thing is very clever.” He showed me how the satellite dish homes in on the Sky signal and we can actually record the Eurosport coverage of the race while we’re moving to watch later. There was also a computer link up, so my laptop could do my emails and things as well.

He then added. “So, you’ll be able to Skype Menorca and check on the Henry and Monica, see if they’re still sane, or if Trish is now running the bank.”

“This is amazing, shower and toilet, six berths, kitchen with fridge and freezer, cooker, microwave–oh where’s the dishwasher?”

“Er–that’s where you come in, so bring your Marigolds.”

“I knew there had to be a reason why you invited me.”

“Natch, you know me, can’t tell one end of a Fairy Liquid bottle from t’other.”

“Cor, have you bought it?” asked Trish entering the van.

“Yeah,” he winked at me.

“No he hasn’t, don’t tell them lies, Simon.”

“Can we go to school in it tomorrow?”

“There is no way I am driving that anywhere, you’d need a heavy goods licence.”

“No you don’t, you can borrow it if you like, you’re insured to drive it.”

“No way. I’d never be able to turn it in the drive.”

“Can I have a go at driving it?” asked Julie.

“No, you have to be twenty one,” answered Si, whether he was telling the truth or not I had no idea, but I was pleased she couldn’t, she’d be worse than me.