The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3136 by Angharad Copyright© 2017 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.

We arrived at Fratton Park, home of Portsmouth FC and nowadays of the ladies team as well. We were early, they wouldn’t be playing for over an hour and Danielle trotted off to the changing rooms to put on her England kit. Holding her bag, I stood and chatted with the coach awaiting the arrival of Jackson and his photographer.

She appeared ten minutes later wearing her England outfit and a fresh coat of mascara—she had on so much makeup, I had difficulty recognising her—so hopefully no one else would. If they did, they did, we’d deal with it as it happened but it’s no big deal and the FA and the club are both supportive of her position.

Jackson did eventually appear but sans photographer, so he had to take the photos as well. The interview went quite well no personal questions except those related to soccer. The obligatory quote from her coach saying how uncommonly gifted she was in playing with the mental skills in reading he game of someone ten years older.

I stayed in the background and wasn’t required for either a quote or a photo. If I kept out of it, there was less chance of anyone recognising her by association with me. Eventually it was all over and Jackson had his interview and his photos so he didn’t require us for anything else for some time.

Leaving Danni in the capable hands of her coach, I drove home and did some chores plus gave the other children some of my time. David was busy making us a traditional roast beef dinner and trying to get half a side of beef into the slow oven on the Aga where he discovered Danni’s from the day before—he just binned it with looks of daggers from a certain spaniel.

She’d be in the news again, she scored five goals against Arsenal women, two of who are in her England squad, but claimed to be carrying injuries. She certainly had a few and I recall seeing an article about George Best—he was some Irish guy who played for Manchester United and was one of the greatest players of his day until he actually began to believe the hype and ended up becoming an alcoholic and died with liver failure having had a transplant as well. He gave a the booze for a while then succumbed again and that destroyed the transplant.

So seeing the way that David Beckham copes with the celebrity compared to his predecessor in the number 7 shirt (Best), I have even more regard for him. I only hope I can keep Danielle grounded if she really does hit the big time. So far she’s been remarkably unimpressed by the hype and her own skills—I don’t think she fully recognises how gifted she is. She still wants to go on to university and train as a teacher, so I try to keep that ambition focused because it’s the one which will keep food on her table when her soccer days are over.

She called me to collect her and I sent Simon to get her in his F-type. He was supposed to have gone with us but cancelled at the last moment because he fell asleep. That made me smile given that he snored all night and I listened to it most of the night. It’s like listening to someone racing a large truck up Mt Ventoux. So he slept and I didn’t and he was the one who couldn’t stay awake in the day time.

Oh I hear there’s a fuss with the Sunday Times and Jenni Murray—her from Woman’s Hour on Radio 4—apparently transgender women aren’t proper women. Pity because I thought she was more understanding than that. Apparently, because we haven’t grown up as girls but come from a position of male superiority we can't be real women. I think five minutes in my company would give her something else to think about as most of us are uncomfortable in our own bodies, some of us have been victimised more than most ordinary women, have higher levels of sexual abuse and suicide than most women and also find it harder to acquire jobs and secure accommodation. So I suspect her argument is either pathetic or ill-considered.

I also consider myself a proper feminist who desires equality for everyone regardless of age, sex, gender, race, religion, marital status and anything else which others use to define us. So I’m afraid Dame Jenni may not pass my test to be considered a true feminist.

The kids are back in school, so it was checking uniforms and so on. I made each of them check their satchels/backpacks to sharpen pencils and so on and to check if they needed games or gym kit. By the time morning comes I might have finished sorting stuff. It’s my own fault, no one made me take in a dozen children and young adults, but as they say, it seemed like a good idea at the time and really I don’t regret it. It also looks like some of the older children may be ready to fly the nest. Sammi spends more time up in London than she does at home and I think she’s thinking of buying something up there. She’ll get a preferential mortgage if she does, Si will see to that and as she’s saved the bank’s bacon a few times, she’s worthy of it.

Julie and Phoebe could be gone anytime soon. They’ve arranged to buy the flat above their salon and have someone in there decorating and refurbishing it. It’s a bit grotty but mainly because it hasn’t been decorated for years. I think they’re going to have a new kitchen as well. Having said that one of the things they’ll miss is David’s cooking and once they move out I’ll happily have them come over for dinner as long as they tell David beforehand so he can sort the amounts of food required. You never know, one day I might even get an invite to dinner at their place—fish and chips as long as I bring it with me.

Those with elephantine memories may remember I did try to teach Julie how to cook and the same with Phoebe but neither really took to it, unlike Danielle who does enjoy it and so do Trish and Hannah, though Livvie isn’t terribly so and Meems is better with childcare. So as long as she has children who don’t need feeding, she’ll be fine. Having said that I recall her trying to force-feed her dollies after they apparently went on hunger strike. Had they been real babies I’d have had to call ambulances and the police—she went totally ape, and unusual state for her and I never did find out who’d put her up to it, though I do have suspicions.

Tom put the girls to bed and read them a story—he’s like gold, so precious to us all and a real help with the kids, who love him to bits though they also know how far he’ll let them go before he lays down the law. I love him dearly too, possibly more than biological dad because he’s just so caring and experienced.

I’ve just got Danielle up to bed, Simon is chatting with the three older girls, Jacquie is home now as well. So while he’s busy, I’m off to bed and I hope a good night’s rest.