The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2805 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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Sunday, once I actually got started, was tough. Lack of sleep made me feel lethargic and Simon avoided me somewhat which suited me fine. In the afternoon he retreated to the lounge and watched Andy Murray win the Davis cup for Great Britain. I might have enjoyed watching it as well but spent the time sorting laundry and ironing the same. It’s true, men work so much harder than women—I was only ironing sheets, Si was rooting for Andy and that takes so much more energy. He was exhausted at the end and asked me to make him a cuppa as he didn’t have the energy. I did as he requested and kept my thoughts and tongue to myself.

At least he seemed to have suffered no lasting effects of either his afternoon on the piss or falling out of bed, nor did he mention how he had his underpants on back to front—I actually did that to make him think about things. I hope it succeeded.

I also took Danielle to her football game and got Julie to go and collect her—it was pretty foul weather. David came in early and did the dinner which I agreed to dish up, Simon ate it but didn’t enquire how it got on his plate nor how his plate was cleaned afterwards.

While Amanda was starting the next day, I didn’t want to leave her with a whole pile of things to do until she had found her feet and knew where stuff was kept. Jacquie would be around most of Monday, studying from home and keeping an eye on the little ones, though Cate is due to start the convent after Christmas. In which case, I’ll have to fit the seat in the back of my car, which means no boot space—remember I have an estate car, sometimes called a shooting break even though I don’t carry guns in it.

I printed off a couple more copies of my paper while I got the little ones to bed. Simon’s mood lifted when Murray won the tennis and Great Britain were the winners for the first time in ten zillion years apparently since Fred Perry won it while simultaneously swimming the channel and running the first five minute mile, or something like that. I might have exaggerated, it was a six minute mile because if he ran any faster his pipe went out.

The youngsters went off to sleep very well and when I came back to my study Trish was reading one of the copies of my dormouse paper. “What are you doing, you little monkey?”

“Reading this, why?”

“I didn’t print it off for your benefit.”

“Pity you can’t spell dormouse.”

“What?” I gasped. “Let me see.”

“No, wanna check your other spelling.”

I quickly tore the other copy from the printer and quickly scanned the whole thing. She sat there giggling.

“I can’t see any mistakes, neither could Gramps.”

“There aren’t any but you should have seen your face,” she handed me the paper and ran off laughing.

“You little scallywag,” I called after her which just made her laugh even more.

Eventually, Julie went and got Danielle who phoned as it was pouring down, but only because I let her go in my Jaguar. The match had been postponed because of weather conditions—wind and rain—so they’d had a extra training session indoors and she fell asleep listening to the team talk so they left her in the gym, until someone coming into clean it woke her up an hour or so later. I’d be having words with their coach afterwards—she’s still a minor officially.

She demolished her dinner like she hadn’t eaten for a week—she’d only had a snack before going out and I sat and talked with her while she ate, sipping a cuppa. I asked her what she’d done with Cindy the previous day and she just said, ‘Shoppin’,’ so no change there.

“Buy anything?”

“Not a lot, why?”

“I’m just trying to show an interest in your life.”

“Oh right, this is good,” she said cramming another slice of meat.

“How’s Cindy?”

“All right.” I could have predicted that answer. Teenagers are such hard work.

“Oh well if you don’t want to talk to me, I’ll go and read my book.”

“Hang on,” she said swallowing, “what can I get daddy for Christmas?”

“Best ask him I think, then he can’t blame me if it’s wrong.”

“Ooh, who took your lollipop?”

I rose and walked away, I wasn’t going to get into an argument with a teenager, I’d have more chance of a sensible one with Bramble. I found my book after telling Trish, Livvie, Meems and Hannah that they had twenty minutes before bed.

“But it’s early,” they protested.

“So you can read for a while.”

“Still early.”

“You can go now if you want?”

“No thank you—just ’cos she ’ad a fight with Daddy.”

“Shurrup, Trish, you’ll make things worse.”

“I’d take good advice when it’s offered, young lady.”

“Yeah okay, twenty minutes.”

“It’s fifteen now.”

“Thasnotfair,” she grumbled.

“Tough.” I walked towards my study and ‘Bully,’ was called after me. I’d actually let them have half an hour but if I told them twenty minutes they’d go more quietly. I sat down and found my page on the latest Elly Griffiths. Did the woman kill all three of her children—if they were anything like mine, I’d be posting bail for her. And was the old lady hanged for killing umpteen children innocent of the crimes—I’d soon find out—well in two hundred pages or so.

Time flies when you’re up to your eyeballs in a good book. “Tea?” Danielle asked bringing in a mug of the stuff for me. “Sorry I was a bit off earlier.”

“Any reason?”

“Yeah, me an’ Cindy had fallin’ out yesterday.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really, we both like fancy this boy...”

“Classic rivalry, it happens with girls.”

“Yeah but only one of us has the equipment...uh...” she blushed.

“You are fourteen, young lady—it’s not legal to do anything at your age.”

“I knew you’d take that attitude, I’ll bet you were doing it with any Tom, Dick or Harry though, weren’t you?” she stormed off before I could explain what I really meant to say. Okay she can’t get pregnant but she could catch some horrible disease and she is too young for a proper relationship. I drank my tea and I wasn’t sure about the girls but I felt like calling it a day before anything else happened.

The four musketeers surrendered having a drink of milk and a biscuit before going off to clean their teeth. They went to bed at the usual time and I let them read for twenty minutes before calling lights out and pretended not to hear, ‘Candles out,’ followed by giggles. By not reacting the laughter soon abated giving me a chance to make my peace with my husband except he was asleep sitting in front of the television which was blaring at him. As soon as I switched it off he woke with a start and declared, “I was watching that.”

It certainly had been one of those days.