The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2269 by Angharad Copyright © 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“I’m sorry, Mummy,” she cried for wetting on me.

“C’mon, upstairs and change.” There was no point in getting cross, though I could have done without the experience. I went to my room and decided to shower and change, after drying and sorting my hair I dressed in some old trousers and a top with a fleece jacket–it was getting colder.

Back downstairs I went to the kitchen to think what we’d have for dinner. Since David has been ill, my life has been cluttered with cooking again. I decided on a beef stew. Trish appeared and asked to help, next to arrive was Danni who was now wearing a dress with leggings, she’d also plaited her hair into two pigtails.

“Like the hair,” I said as she entered the kitchen.

“Auntie Stella did it for me.” My illusions were shattered yet again. “Need any help?”

“Yes, you can help Trish with the spuds.”

“Oh no, not the spuds,” grumbled Trish.

“It won’t take long with two of us,” said Danni trying to appease her sibling.

“Too bloody long,” muttered Trish.

“Well if you don’t do them, I have to.”

“Yeah, but you’re our mother,” Trish argued.

“So, perhaps you’d have the courtesy not to swear in front of me.”

“Sorrreee.”

I handed each of them a potato peeler and pulled out the bag of potatoes–remembering that Danni was not that long post op. They grumbled but got stuck in while I trimmed the stewing steak and then fried it with some onions and garlic to seal it. While that was happening, I sorted some carrots, mushrooms and swede, which Daddy would call neeps, although some dictionaries maintain that those are turnips. I added water and salt and pepper to the meat and onions and let it come to the boil then turned it down to a simmer while I peeled, washed and sliced or chopped the various veg.

Once those were in I added a large tin of tomatoes and chopped some red pepper–just to give it some colour, then for a similar reason I added a tin of red kidney beans.

By the time I’d finished the girls were half way through the potatoes, so I lent a hand and did as many myself as they were doing between them. “How can you do them so fast, Mummy?” gasped Trish.

“I concentrate on what I’m doing not what Mandy Slater was up to in school last week.”

“Well we were all shocked, Mummy.”

“So you said.”

Danni was killing herself laughing.

“Well, did anyone take off their knickers and throw them at the teacher when you were in school?”

I had to reply that if they had I hadn’t seen it.

“Well I expect you would have noticed. Sister Loyola was so embarrassed.

“I suppose that was the point of the exercise.”

“Dunno,” admitted Trish.

“Wasn’t she cold around her bum?” asked Danni bringing us back down to earth.

“Nah, she had another pair on underneath.”

“So what was the outcome of her action?” I asked.

“She got suspended.”

“Perhaps the object of the exercise?” I ventured.

“Prolly.”

“Trish the word is, probably, not prolly.”

“I know.”

“So why didn’t you use it then?”

“’Cos it’s more fun to tease you.”

I offered her a withering look but instead of withering she laughed. I’m obviously losing my touch.

Eventually, we finished the potatoes–a large pot of the things, well there are about ninety three of us–and I topped them up with water and set it to boil. The stew was starting to emit its aroma and it made my tummy rumble.

“Smells good, Ma,” said Trish teasing me.

“I’ll give you, Ma, young lady.” I said scowling at her but she just giggled and ran off.

“Thanks for your help, young lady,” I said to Danni.

“I enjoy helping you sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

“Well yeah, I’ve got a life to lead as well you know.”

“So have I, Danielle, so have I.” At times I began to think that was over and once again I was a prisoner of the kitchen. The problem was partly of my own making, I should have employed a temporary cook while David recovered but I didn’t want to make him feel under any pressure–so I put myself under it instead. One day I’ll learn.

“Have you tried on your school uniform?”

“Not since we bought it.”

“Did I do the name tags?” I’ve done so many of them, I couldn’t remember.

“I don’t think so, Mummy.”

“Oh well, guess what we’ll be doing this evening?”

“You’ll be sewing name tags?”

“You’ll be helping me, young lady.”

“Why?”

“Because you need the practice.”

“I might never sew again.”

“Yes you will. You might never enjoy it, but you’re going to become proficient in it.”

“Why?”

“To try and bring you up to scratch with the others.”

“Sammi doesn’t sew very often,” she pouted.

“The others do, and so will the girls in your class when you go to school in a few weeks time. So I think it might be a good idea if you were up speed with some of the basics.”

“All right, can I go now?”

“Of course you can, sweetheart.” She sloped off while the going was good.

I made some tea and called Stella and Simon to see if they wanted any, they did. “What’s with Danni?” asked Stella.

“I’ve told her she can help me sew her name tags in her school uniform.”

“Ah, that would explain it,” she added before taking a sip of tea.

“What was Trish giggling at?” asked her dad.

“Oh some girl got herself suspended last week.”

“What did she do?”

“Pulled off her knickers and threw them at one of the nuns.” Simon sprayed tea everywhere. Stella was not amused at her choking sibling. Had I not had to clean it up, I could have found it very funny.

“What are we having for dinner, it smells delicious?”

“Beef stew.”

“With dumplings?”

“I suppose so if we’ve got any suet.”

“If not, I’ll go and get some,” he volunteered.

I nearly sent him out to the supermarket just for badness knowing that I’d bought some that morning, so dumplings were entirely possible; it’s just I don’t like them very much myself.

I went and checked the larder, we had two packs of shredded suet, so I grabbed the older one and plonked it down on the table. “You’re in luck,” I said and Stella smirked as he beamed at me.

“Thank you, Mummy,” he said in a silly voice.

I finished my tea and made a dozen or so dumplings and dropped them in the simmering cauldron–it was almost big enough to called that, though I was fresh out of eye of bat or is it newt?

About ten minutes before I dished up, I added half a pack of frozen garden peas to the stew to give it some more colour and thickened the sauce–or would that be gravy? Does it matter? It didn’t to the locusts who arrived when I banged the gong, they ate the lot, helped by one spaniel and a small cat, who I think practically doubled in size with her share of the plunder.

Given the beatific smiles and lack of movement immediately after gorging, I think they enjoyed it. I sent some over to the house for David to criticise but when he brought the plates back, he told me he thought it was excellent. That made me feel better, even if he was probably telling white lies.