The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2689 by Angharad Copyright© 2015 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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“Cav won and Froome is in the yellow jersey,” an excited Trish rushed into the kitchen.

“Only because Tony Martin crashed,” I suggested.

“He busted his collar bone, not very clavicle of him,” she said then laughed at her own joke.

“They flew him back to Germany to operate on it.”

“Yeah, still it means there’s two English riders won somethin’ for a change.”

“I think you need to examine their histories a little deeper.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think either would be too pleased to be called English.”

“Well what are they then?”

“Cavendish is a Manxman and Froome came from Kenya.”

“Yeah, so? They’re as English as you are.”

“Trish, I’m Scots.”

“But you don’t like haggis...”

“Nor porridge.”

“I saw a comedy thing on telly called Porridge, it was set in a prison.”

“With Ronnie Barker.”

“I dunno, I didn’t watch it.”

“Why not, he’s very funny?”

“I didn’t want to see what it’s like in a prison.”

“It wasn’t real, just pretend.”

“Yeah, so I pretended to watch it.”

“I used to quite fancy Richard Beckinsdale.”

“Who’s he?”

“The one who played Godber.”

“How old is he now because I’m sure it’s very old.”

“Oh crikey, I’ve no idea how old he’d be, he died quite suddenly and quite young.”

“Is that ’cause Daddy got him?”

“What?”

“You know because you fancied him.”

“He died when I was about fifteen.”

“Oh, that long ago.”

“Hey, it was only fifteen or sixteen years ago.”

“Yeah, well I’m only ten, so it was before I was born—so that’s ancient history.”

“You wait until you have children—then you’ll know what it feels like.”

“I can’t have children, can I?”

“Not biologically, but you could adopt like I did.”

“Ha—the only reason you got us was because no one else wanted us.”

“That was their loss and my gain.”

“Yeah, well I don’t want a bunch of weirdos as children.”

“Is that how you see yourself—a weirdo?”

“Doesn’t everybody?”

“Doesn’t everybody what?”

“See me as a weirdo.”

“No, don’t be silly—when you’re not being too clever for them, most people see you as a lovely young woman.”

“They think I’m weird in school.”

“Who does?” I wasn’t entirely surprised but it was news to me.

“The other girls.”

“How d’you know that?”

“They call me a weirdo to my face, an’ Livvie is the weirdo’s sister.”

“Why?”

“Because they call me the weirdo and she’s my sister—duh.”

“No, why do they call you the weirdo?”

“Because I’m cleverer than anyone else.”

“Shall we say, cleverer than most people?”

“’S only you an’ gramps are cleverer.”

“I’m not very clever and don’t underestimate your dad, he’s pretty clever.”

“Okay, so Daddy an’ Gramps are cleverer than me, so that’s three of us who are weird.”

“You’re not weird.”

“Yeah so you keep telling me. Perhaps you were telling the truth and you aren’t very clever.”

“There’s no need to be so rude, young lady.”

“An’ I’m good at soccer—makes me a double weirdo.”

“So is Danni, she’s no weirdo.”

“No she’s too thick.”

“She is not thick, her intelligence lies in other areas.”

“Yeah, like vacant lots.” Comparing your older sister to a building plot is not very kind, is it?”

“Not my fault if that’s what she is.”

“She’s got a very good business mind.”

“Yeah but it’s not like Sammi’s is it?”

“Probably not, Sammi is very clever.”

“An’ beautiful.”

“All my daughters are beautiful.”

“I read somewhere that mothers can turn a blind eye to almost anything their children do that’s either wrong or stupid.”

“I think it’s more a question of seeing the best in our children rather than ignoring the bad or ill equipped.”

“Whatever.” She turned to walk away and I sometimes wondered if she was possessed by an alien who was far older than ten.

I suppose we all tend to compare ourselves to others, though perhaps not as competitively as Trish. Having said that I tend to see myself as being good at some things rather than better than some people, yet if I were bike racing I’d be more competitive because I’d try to do my best. In fact I usually try to do my best, whatever I do regardless of who else is doing the same, it’s just the way I was brought up—if it’s worth doing it’s worth doing well and other assorted aphorisms—my mother had one for nearly every occasion. I’m surprised I haven’t lapsed into more of them.

I noticed something shining on the carpet and bent down and picked it up. It was a pin, probably from when I was sewing the other night. What’s it they say about pins? See a pin and pick it up and all the day you’ll have good luck. I could certainly do with a change of luck—what is it they say? If it wasn’t for bad luck, I’d have none at all.

That isn’t quite true, I think I’m one of the luckiest women alive in marrying Simon and having all these delightful children. “Mummy, Cate is trying to put bramble down the toilet.” As I was saying... I ran after Livvie where Cate was sitting crying in the bathroom and saying, “Nasty kitty,” while looking at the scratches on her hand. I calmed her down and told her to leave Bramble alone. Then it was off to find the traumatised cat and calm her down—a handful of cat treats seemed to work—for the cat, that is. Perhaps I should have given Cate some too—well it worked on the kitten.

I gave up on the computer, there’s only so much data entry you can do at one time, and this is just the records that need vetting. The number I get about exotic escapes, usually of pythons, drives me nuts. To start with, pythons are snakes, which are reptiles and we’re doing a mammal survey. Why are people so dumb?

I also get reports of large black cats—definitely panthers—yeah sure, what are they living on—cat treats? If we had large predators surviving in the numbers suggested, we’d have loads of farmers demanding action because they’d be killing their sheep in large numbers. I ignore all of these records because at best they’d be feral animals but more likely, they’re mistaken and it’s just a large black moggie that people have seen without any sort of perspective or context to give it a size.

Things like coypu or mink, which are small enough to hide in the British countryside, I can accept but not something bigger than a large dog, which although secretive, would be seen eventually by more credible observers. We’re not getting those records.