The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2205 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“I feel like some minor celebrity.” I said to no one in particular.

“Yeah, not quite an A-lister, yet,” was Stella’s response.

“What?”

“I said you haven’t quite hit the top list yet, as a celebrity that is.”

“Who wants to?”

“You must or you wouldn’t have brought it up.”

“I was simply musing out loud.”

“Yeah, about being a celebrity.”

“No, I was wondering why people ask me to do things like award prizes.”

“Well, first, you’re cheap, second, you’re reliable and finally, you’ve got some good communication skills.”

“I’m a teacher.”

“See, I knew they’d come in handy one day.”

“Have you had your medication this morning?”

“Ha ha, very funny. I was going to offer to put your borrowed baby in the washing machine with my two. Now I won’t bother.”

“Is this dishwasher or clothes washer?”

“Clothes washer, you know the salt plays hell with their hair in the dishwasher.”

“Sorry, I forgot.”

“Well don’t again.”

“I won’t, Stella, but I must point out if you use the fast spin, they’ll be sick–they were last time.”

“No, I was going to do them on delicates.”

“Sounds suitable.” I then left the kitchen before Stella tried to convince me she was going to load her kids into the washing machine. I was still a little hurt at the way my children had teased me about having sex, I’m sure they didn’t mean to be but it didn’t stop it hurting all the same.

If I asked them to stop that would probably have the opposite effect, they’d prise open the crack into a gaping void. If I ignored them, they’d probably stop eventually and if I acted proud of the fact I’d got laid when they weren’t–nah, that might seem a bit arrogant. I am trying to teach them some social skills and arrogance doesn’t usually fit in those.

Who could I discuss it with? Simon? Hardly, he’d either tease me as well or stamp all over them with his size twelve boots. No it would have to be someone else, but quite who, I don’t know.

I finished the bit of lesson planning I had to do and went back to the kitchen. The washing machine was on in the utility room but I couldn’t see any heads or limbs flopping round in it. David was in the kitchen chopping something. I watched him for a few moments before he noticed me. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi. I was just admiring your ability to chop things without adding bits of finger or nail to the bits.”

“Practice, that’s all,” he replied and if I’d asked he’d have had me practicing. I still had all my digits so I changed the subject.

I remarked on the music he had playing on the radio, “Michael Kamen, ‘Prince of thieves,’ theme music.”

“Is it?” he obviously wasn’t interested. However, John Suchet confirmed my identification. “Clever dick.”

“Sorry for breathing, I’ll leave you to continue abusing whatever vegetable that was originally.”

“Herb.”

“Who is?”

“It’s a herb not a vegetable.”

“Fine, as long as you know what’s what, I don’t think I’d like my spuds done that way.” I slipped quickly out of the kitchen before he threw the knife he had in his hands–you have to be bit careful with cooks, they have a low boiling point.

I looked out of the window and down the drive. It was dry and not too cold. Blow it, I’m going for a bike ride, then remembered I was a little sore down below. Damn. Instead I went upstairs and pulled on some knee boots with low heels and grabbed my windproof coat. Ten minutes later Kiki and I were walking down the drive and towards the park. I took her ball and a latex glove so I could pick it up and throw it for her without getting my hand all slimy. Dog gob isn’t the nicest substance to massage into skin.

I walked her for an hour, throwing the ball and then chasing her to get it back–she’s no retriever. Were she to be involved with a shoot, apart from being frightened by the pop of guns, she’d be useless at retrieving fallen birds. She’d be as likely to eat them as carry them back to the shooters.

At one point she got scent of something and ignored the ball I’d just thrown, she was off yipping excitedly to herself as she went. I ran off to get the ball then had to trot after her. She stopped at a tree and was circling it still making the occasional yip noise. It did enable me to catch her and put her back on her lead. Walking back, I felt rather warmer than I’d intended to and Kiki was panting, nearly stepping on her tongue at times.

Returning home, Kiki was so tired she let me wash her feet before having a drink and curling up to sleep in the conservatory. I went and showered just finishing my hair when I heard David hit the gong to say lunch was ready. I was pretty well dressed and carefully pulled on a sweater over my shirt.

David had been chopping herbs for the rice dish we had for lunch. He’d combined the rice with sardines, chopped sun dried tomatoes and spring onions with a light olive oil based dressing. It was delicious and told him so. He stood up from the table and took a bow and we all clapped. Seems it doesn’t take much to impress us.

After lunch, I left the kitchen taking a cuppa with me and read for an hour. For a change, I didn’t have my proboscis stuck in a text book or scientific journal, but was reading a book by someone I’d always regarded as a journalist, Martin Sixsmith. Its bright yellow cover announced it was now a major film and was called ‘Philomena —The true story of a mother and the son she had to give away.’ Given my dislike of religious types, I couldn’t see it relaxing my prejudices any time soon.

“Are you collecting the girls, Mummy?” called Jacquie as I was deeply ensconced in my book.

“Oh bugger, is that the time?” I marked my page with a piece of paper and dashed off to collect the unholy trinity.

“You’re late,” declared Trish tapping her foot as she waited just inside the school building.

“So I am, too bad.” I’d decided I wasn’t going to be intimidated by this reincarnation of Isaac Newton.

“Why?”

“I don’t have to answer to you, but for the record I was reading a book and didn’t notice the time.

“What book was so interesting that you forgot the time?” continued the inquisition from Trishquemada.

“Philomena–any the wiser?”

“Didn’t they make a film of it?” asked Livvie, “I saw the posters on the bus shelter.”

“They did and very good it was too,” said Sister Maria walking up beside us.

“Oh,” popped out of my mouth before I could stop it.

“You sound surprised, Lady C?”

“I suppose I am.”

“Why, we’re not all baby selling monsters, so we’re not, ya know.”

“No, I’m sure you’re not.”

“Mummy’s reading the book,” offered Livvie.

“Perhaps I could read it afterwards?”

“I should think that would be very possible.”

“Good day to ya, Lady C, girls.” She moved along the corridor as we departed waving goodbye to her.

“Why was you surpwised by Sista Mawia?”

“Well, Meems, the book is about a mother’s search for her son who was...