The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2854 by Angharad Copyright© 2015 Angharad

---

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.
*****

Simon and his crew arrived as I brought the meat out of the oven and within ten minutes Daddy was slicing it and i was laying it on plates and passing them round, suffice it say a significant piece of pig and a fair crop of vegetables disappeared in very short order.

“That was brill, Mummy,” said Danielle sitting back, “food up there was all right I guess, but nothing like that. If I ate like that I’d be too fat to run round—a bit like Julie.” Danielle jumped and ran off up the stairs with Julie in hot pursuit and everyone else laughing.

Lizzie who didn’t have a clue what was going on laughed because everyone else did while Cate was trying to explain it to her in the secret language babies and toddlers use and which is unintelligible to adults.

“Did you hear about the harvest mice in Hampshire?” asked Trish.

“I have several records for them this year and a cluster of records in one area where they were trying to see if they would recolonise if conditions were suitable. They got local farmers and the lottery involved. Is that the same case you were mentioning?”

“Prolly.”

“Trish the word is probably, not prolly—that sounds like a strange kind of parrot.”

“That reminds me,” offered Simon and we all knew it was going to be some schoolboy joke being resuscitated long after the death certificate had been signed, “What d’you call a dead parrot?”

“How long’s it been dead, Daddy?”

“Recently, why?”

“Well if it died some time ago, I’d call it smelly.”

“Yeuch,” was Livvie’s contribution.

“After that when the maggots get hatched it would be smelly and wriggling.” She clapped her hands in glee. At times Trish could definitely be like a little boy at others she was very girly. Whereas, Danielle, who they all accused of being in love with sexy clothes and makeup, effectively labelling her a sort of narcissistic trannie, is mostly very girly until she gets on a soccer pitch and then she is decidedly unfeminine—a bit like the Gaby stories, only for soccer pitch, read racing bike.

She models her game on that of David Beckham, so if that means developing a brand name and earning millions a year, for a kid who had such a difficult start in life, she’ll have done very well.

“Did you hear about transgender athletes and the Olympics?” asked Stella and unsurprisingly none of us had. “They’re going to let transwomen take part even if they haven’t had surgery providing they have had less than a certain amount of testosterone in their systems for at least a year.”

“Well if they’ve been on oestrogens for hat time or longer, they won’t have many muscles left anyway.”

“So how come Danielle is so fit if she hasn’t got any muscles?” asked Phoebe.

“Don’t confuse muscle mass for strength, she’ll have no more than any girl of her age and size and possibly less. What she has is experience and expertise. She is very skilful in the way she plays making the ball do most of the work and she understands what she’s doing because she’s practiced it over and over—like Beckham did. That’s how she can curl a ball in a semicircle or even more tightly than that.”

“It’s true,” agreed Trish, “I can do it a bit but not like she does because she practices it, I’m not as interested as she is so only try doing it now and again. In the school league, there is no goalkeeper who wants to defend against one of her free kicks, because it usually ends in a goal. In fact no one wants to play against her.”

“Do they ever twig she was a boy?” asked Phoebe.

“Not anymore, they’ve seen her in the showers, so no one asks any questions, she’s obviously all girl.”

“She’s got a gorgeous figure, wish I had one like hers,” said Phoebe.

“Oh come on, Pheebs, you have a lovely figure too.” I protested.

“My legs are too fat.”

“I don’t think so,” added Simon, “I think you have good legs.”

She shook her head disagreeing with him.
“You’ll have to start playing soccer too,” suggested Stella.

“Nah, I’ll keep my fat legs,” she said and we all chuckled.

By this time Julie and Danielle came down again and were laughing and joking together—so the dispute had been forgotten—they usually are in minutes.

“Did she get you, Dan?” asked Trish.

Danielle rolled up her sleeve to show a bruise, “Yep, she got me good an’ proper.”

“Serves you right, you little toad,” said Julie.

“Reddit, reddit, reddit,” said Danni.

“I think that’s more frog than toad,” I said just adding to the confusion, it sounded like neither.

“She’s mad as a box of frogs,” said Julie.

“But not fat frogs,” said Danielle and ran off again. This time Julie let her go.

“Not gonna chase her, Ju?” asked Livvie.

“Nah, got better things to do than waste energy on twits like ’er. Besides, I’ll ’it ’er next time I see ’er.”

“I thought girls weren’t supposed to be as violent as boys,” Simon flagged up the stereotype.

“I think some of them have always been quite violent,” said Stella, “and judging by the newspapers, it seems to be on the increase. I mean that woman up in Lancashire who was stabbed the other week, they’ve arrested two women for that.”

“There’s something very strange about that case,” said Simon, “I suppose it’ll all come out in the trial.”

“You mean sex or jealousy—that sort of thing?” said Sammi who’d forgotten was still sitting there.

“Something like that, right who’s going help your mother clear up?”

“Me and Jules ’ll do it,” said Phoebe and Julie gave her a look of astonishment but they got up and started clearing away the debris. The bits of food left were scraped on to one plate and would become part of the dog’s meal unless the cat got there first. I’ve seen her take possession of Kiki’s dish while it was laden with food and the poor dog hasn’t known what to do. Spaniels don’t do too well in the cognitive/ reasoning part of life compared to cats which seem to run rings round them. I know dog owners will disagree but cats seem to have the edge in sneakiness—though I’ve seen Kiki do something she shouldn’t have but the temptation was too great so she adopted a less direct route to her action. She got told off as soon as Tom noticed—she spotted a chocolate biscuit left on a plate on a coffee table, so she wandered round the room first and then snuck up and took the biscuit. Tom discovered this because it was his biscuit she took and he chased her out to the conservatory and shut her out there. Well I thought it was funny, both his reaction to her action, and her action. She hasn’t done it since and gets quite upset if he tells her off.