The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2701 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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After lunch I settled down in front of the telly to watch the women’s race prior to the final stage of the TdF. It was tanking down in Paris, mind you it was on and off here as well. I lost count of the number of crashes on the wet cobbles, it was silly but while all the sprinters were watching each other a Dutch girl slipped away with seven kilometres to go and managed to hold it to win the race. Lizzie Amitstead was fourth or fifth. She crashed last year, so I suppose this was an improvement.

We had an hour to wait for the men’s coverage and as the ride into Paris is more of a procession than a race, it gets a bit boring except for the pictures from the helicopter of the surrounding countryside and items of interest. The rain actually stopped just as they arrived in Paris and given the crashes in the women’s race, they gave everyone the same time as they crossed the finish line the first time. All they had to do then was complete the race.

I got increasingly anxious for Cavendish. He wasn’t on his best form and without Renshaw and Tony Martin, his lead out train was going to be unable to lead him out properly. Bloody Greipel did it again, though some berk from Europcar crossed his line as well, so poor old Cav was nowhere in the sprint. I thought back to when Wiggo in the yellow jersey led him out to take the sprint four years ago. It was crazy, but nice crazy. So the Brits have won it three times in four years, will Froomey be up to defending his title next year. Richie Port is leaving so things will be different. Perhaps I’ll even be able to go and watch some of it—well I can dream, can’t I? Mind you, if I saw the bloke fling pee in Froome’s face or any other rider for that matter, I might react in a hostile manner and deck him. I’d do the same if I saw tacks being scattered at a bike race because it’s such a stupid thing to do and could be quite dangerous for the riders. I really do wonder about people today, they don’t have fun unless somebody gets hurt or killed. What a sad lot of specimens humanity seems to be becoming, all I can do is try to make sure all those children I have some influence over learn what is right and wrong and not confuse the two at any time.

Simon had been at the rugby club seeing what the arrangements were for watching the world cup which is being played in England and Wales. I hope Scotland does well, it would really lift him. I’ll support Wales again having lived closer to Cardiff than Twickenham. Tom will support all of them but secretly hope Scotland wins through to the later stages. I suspect he’ll be disappointed once New Zealand, Australia and South Africa get going, but if miracles do happen...nah.

David having made lunch, I sent him home and did the tea myself with help from Cindy, who wants to learn how to keep house—pity none of mine do. Unless they find well paid jobs and can employ a help, they could have a bit of a shock coming. I suppose they could live at home, but once they flee the nest to go to uni, I doubt they’ll be back—but as long as they stay in touch, I won’t mind (liar, of course I’ll miss them).

This time of year, we have fewer students around, mostly post grads doing research while everything is quiet. The regular dormouse surveys have to be undertaken and I got a text saying we were short for the next one. I asked for volunteers and Danni immediately put her hand up so did Trish. Cindy wasn’t too sure, messing about in woods is not her idea of fun; Danni seemed surprised. I sent a text to Delia and she was up for it—so we might just manage. I sent Craig a reply saying we’d do one sector, he was relieved as with our help he’d just about manage.

The week seemed to be marked by cool temperatures and showers, though the latter did dry up eventually. The children amused themselves and Danni began training for the start of the football season in a week or two’s time. This included running with Trish accompanying her occasionally, cycling with me and Trish occasionally and Hannah though at times I had to let Danni go on as Han was holding us back. I did the odd turbo session to try and improve my fitness—gives new meaning to tedium. Danni came over at one point and we set her bike on the turbo and she seemed able to outride me. I’d have to look to my laurels if she wasn’t going to catch me out on the road. I was determined I wouldn’t let her do so without a fight.

On the Thursday, I rose early and was out unaccompanied for an hour which I used to ride up Portsdown hill and back. It was cool in the early morning air though there were one or two cyclists about with similar intentions. I suppose I was in the middle of the group who climbed it, some were faster and one or two slower than I was and once again I wondered about racing, except I was probably too old now to do it seriously. Then, I wasn’t that good anyway, so why bother with all the agony of training.

I got home as the others were just stirring so I managed a shower before anyone noticed I’d gone. Trish did find my smelly cycling kit and cast aspersions for a few minutes but I refused to engage in discussion with her and she shut up.

Danni had a practice match on Saturday, so could we have ride on Sunday? I said it was possible knowing full well she wanted a race. If I was right, she’d cast the first stone and it would be up to me to put up or shut up. She went off to see Cindy while I decided an hour on the turbo—I was up against the strength of youth plus someone who was lighter, however, my strength lay in riding up hills—had she caught me up? We’d see on Sunday.