The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2391 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“If I hear much more about this wretched quiz, I’ll seriously consider stopping you taking part.” I seemed that my two had scored highest in the latest training—a series of fifty questions.

They immediately went into sulk mode. I know they’re clever and I’d love them to do well in the actual quiz, but it wasn’t for another ten days. By then I’d be as nutty as a dormouse’s dinner.

They showed me one of the papers and immediately I realised I probably didn’t know all the geography questions, so I’d have to guess. County town of Somerset—uh—Taunton, I suppose. Date of the battle of Bannockburn, let’s see, seven hundred years ago, so 1314. Adjective associated with kidney—renal. I wonder how many wrote bean or steak.

There were several questions on science: astronomy, chemistry, geology and physics. Then several on the Bible and religion. I was musing through these when Trish asked, “Mummy, what’s a pussalm?”

“A what?”

“Question forty, I think. ‘Who wrote the pussalms?’”

“Oh psalms, the p is silent.”

“Like when it runs down your leg,” she quipped back and I wondered if I had been set up again. Apparently I wasn’t though she’d never heard of the Psalms of David, including the interminable 119. I was able to inform her without being drawn into a discussion that they were written by a number of people not some sure-shot shepherd boy or a similarly named king of Israel.

Embarrassingly, it seemed I knew more of the answers for the religious questions than the geography, better let Si drive when we go up to le Tour on Friday. Still you’d think even I would find a place the size of Yorkshire, the so called Texas of England. This doesn’t mean they execute criminals, they just send them down the liquorice mines in Pontefract.

I began to get things ready for our trip to Yorkshire, hoping we’d fit in the three rooms I’d booked for three nights in the B&B. Stella had decided she didn’t wish to visit darkest Yorkshire to watch two hundred mens’ bums thunder by in lycra. I almost told her she’d discovered my reason for going or that she had no ambition, but kept quiet when she agreed to look after Lizzie with Jacquie who no desire for the excitement of a top sporting event. Somehow she can’t find bicycles a turn on—strange woman.

Julie and Phoebe are working, so they won’t be coming either, so it’ll be Si and yours truly, with the four school
girls and Cate. Danni is quite excited, while Trish and Livvie are more interested in their quiz, and Meems is pleased to go anywhere with us. We don’t go away very often, so it’s a novelty for her. I told Danni she could bring Cindy with her if her mother and the school allowed it. Sister Marie pretended to be horrified when I requested permission to take all the children to Yorkshire. However, as I promised to try and teach them about all of the places we go or the Tour goes through in Yorkshire, we’d do research and make notes, so between them, they could write a blog on their visit.

So, a relaxing time, it won’t be. Si has bought a minibus which seats fifteen, so our problems of transporting the family about might be over. It’s quite luxurious, with comfy seats and was used before to ferry a film crew around. He thinks it should get us to Yorkshire and back on a gallon of fuel or some such nonsense. It’s a hybrid thing with a battery for helping to power us at speeds under thirty. Hopefully, our mileage won’t be that huge.

Simon announced I’d have to help drive it and to become aware of the difference in the size of the magic bus and my car. The bus was taller, wider and longer but otherwise, they were similar—they had wheels and ran on diesel.

While Cate is the smallest by some margin, her packing required as much room as mine, probably more so. I was taking a skirt and a dress with me in case it stops raining long enough to go out for dinner. I told the girls to look out for Gaby watching the race as she’s too young to ride herself and the wrong sex—this is a men’s race, the Tour Femina having ceased a few years ago which is a great pity. Anyway, it gave them something to do while we were away. There can be loads of standing around as the roads closed to traffic sometimes the day before. According to the press, Yorkshire is warming to Le Tour—be interesting to see if they still are when half the place is paralysed by road closures. Still, they love it in France, so it might eventually grow in the general public’s affections one day.

More and more people appear to be cycling, whether that’s an illusion or will stop when the weather worsens, I have no idea. But any time spent on a saddle has got to be good for you, so needs to be encouraged by the powers that be. It also means if they’re riding a bike, they can’t be driving a car at the same time, so that’s one less on the roads.

Having said that, the race uses two thousand vehicles and ten thousand volunteers for three stages but it’s a spectacle and the greatest annual sporting event in the world and I’m getting quite excited about it.

Danni was disappointed she couldn’t take her bike with us, but she could get quite lost and besides, there will be so many bikes around, she could get lost even more easily.

I did pop into the office to feed and water the dormeece but as I had no further marking to do, I cleaned out my office and went home to continue my packing for Friday. Tom was aware of my need and told me to get home and prepare my research for surveys in Leeds, Harrogate, York and Sheffield. I didn’t need telling twice.