The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2946 by Angharad Copyright© 2016 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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It took half an hour to drag Trish away from the celebrations—it’s not every day she gets a prize for sport—now maths or physics, that’s a different matter. As Simon drove us home I reminded her that although her contribution had been outstanding, it was Danielle’s plan they used and it still took ten other girls to make it work. She was agreeable to that and said that she’d enjoyed working with the team although they’d have lacked leadership without her. I responded by telling her that if she hadn’t been there it would have been because Danielle was and she normally led them.

Trish was quiet for a while then said, “But I played better than the others, didn’t I?”

“You played out of your socks, kiddo, but only because the others helped you to. Without them, you’d have been playing against eleven other people on your own and even numbskulls like them would have been able to stop you doing anything very much.”

“Yeah, I s’pose. Okay, we were all outstanding but I was more outstanding than the rest.”

“Only because Danni’s plan made you the focus.”

“What about the girl with the false boobies?” said Livvie and everyone laughed.

“That was a boy,” said Trish disdainfully.

“It certainly looked more boy than girl, mind you so did half their team.” Simon offered his opinion, I cleared my throat to remind him that a few years ago, Trish and Danielle would have been too, in a physical sense. Now after surgery and hormones they’re not, only the training that Danni does so regularly keeps her so fit and I sometimes worry that she’s pushing her body too hard at times.

After lunch I got a text from Danielle to say she’d be ready anytime after three, so I set off with Trish to collect her. Trish was still like a bottle of pop and I know that she only wanted to come to brag to her sister. However, Danni had been pretty much assured she’d be in the squad for the game against Germany, though some of those girls were so big, she was a little apprehensive. I think I might have been too. She’d survived without any injuries though she was quite tired and I think had some difficulty staying awake while Trish reported every kick of her game. She was really pleased for Trish and the rest of the team as well as for the school and Sister Maria but she was obviously very tired and at one point I let her sleep in the front passenger seat while Trish sat behind her telling me exactly the same stuff she’d just told Danielle.

I did wonder if I could grab her and fling her out of the window while remaining in control of the car and decided I couldn’t, so I had to suffer her penalty for the fiftieth time from the offence that won it and then her unbelievable kick which was blue light assisted, though she’ll never know that. Her leg was hurting a bit now so I suggested she sit and heal on it—that made her quiet for the last half an hour. When I managed to look behind the front seats, she was as fast asleep as her sister. They’d both had a tiring day, bless ’em.

My feet had only just begun to get warm as we entered Portsmouth and they both woke as I slowed down to come up the drive. They were both a little dopy, so they really had gone right off. However, they were looking forward to a dinner which was waiting for us as we arrived. David had done us a turkey stew and judging by the amount of meat in it, it seemed highly possible that for it to have come from one bird, it must have been one crossed bred with a millipede. If it were, it would take some catching. I smirked but didn’t share my silly thoughts with anyone else—besides only Lizzie or Simon were young enough to appreciate such silliness.

Dinner over, I went to do some sewing in my study. I had loads of paperwork I could have been doing, I know Tom was when he has a wee drap as well, usually single malt. Given that he’s seventy or possibly seventy two, he does really well and his mind is a sharp as a tack. Unlike mine because I made a mistake, clogged up the machine and spent twenty minutes swearing at it while I dug cotton out of the mechanism and then had to rewind the bobbin and re-thread it. That was when I gave up and announced that the younger girls should go straight to bed. Trish was still talking about the game and how she won it single handed. I pointed out that she wasn’t John Wayne and that even David Beckham needed ten other players to win games.

Of course it was a mistake. All I wanted to do was go to bed before I strangled our nascent football star and she now wanted to learn who John Wayne was. Simon didn’t help by drawling, “Get off yer horse and drink yer milk.” I told him it sounded more like Nicholas Cage, that provoked more questions. In the end I shouted at them, “Go to bed—NOW.” I think they got the message that I was very slightly irked. Five minutes after they got to bed I went and changed into my jammies and cleaned my teeth. They were still talking about soccer and John Wayne, or Trish was. It was only when I threatened to tie her up in the garage and let the spiders sniff her, that she got the message. I went straight to bed but then couldn’t sleep—just think what we’d be missing out on if it weren’t for irony.

At least it was Sunday tomorrow, so Danni’s training hadn’t been so long this time. She told us it was all tactics and set piece moves, which she’d enjoyed and her curling free kicks were a big part of them. So unless they’d been telling lies, it looks as if my daughter will get her second cap in a couple of weeks’ time. Thinking that helped me relax and I was on the point of dropping off when Simon came up to bed. The stupid man woke me up messing about in the bathroom—I could have murdered him too, I was so irritable from tiredness.

Sickeningly, his head touched the pillow and he went straight off while I tossed and turned. In the end I went down for a cuppa and afterwards slept quite easily.

I awoke to sunshine streaming through the curtains—it was six o’frigging clock. Why oh why does Apollo have to start driving his frigging chariot so frigging early?