Woden’s Dangly bits (aka Bike) Part 643 by Angharad

“Are you awake?” asked Simon, reminding me of the joke about an Australian man’s foreplay. However, I declined to play and sighed and turned over. He sighed loudly and presumably went to sleep. Quite honestly, I was too tired to care.

Next morning the aliens landed again and spent more time snuggling with Simon than with me, which was fine. He’ll be back at work soon and then I’ll get all the attention and my sleep deprivation will rise accordingly. Don’t get me wrong, I love ‘em both to bits—but when I’m awake—not asleep.

At seven, it was up and at ‘em. Showers and hair drying, dressing and breakfasting, then off to school with Trish and her packed lunch—some of which was the surfeit from yesterday. I’d got her school uniform ready after the disaster yesterday, and she looked every bit the smart schoolgirl.

Simon stayed with Mima while I dropped Trish in school, although Tom said he could do it some days. He was going in for half days to the university and hoped to be back full time in a couple of weeks. I urged him to be very careful, he was too important to us all to get sick again. He promised not to overdo it. I didn’t believe a word of it.

I did some shopping on the way back home, just foodstuff as the cupboards were looking rather bare. I’d also got one or two things Stella had asked me to get. Once home again, I carried the groceries in and was pleased to see Mima helping Stella with the baby.

A little later, I made some coffee and Stella put baby Desi down for a nap, Meems decided she wanted one as well—she didn’t usually but she was up quite early. I hoped she wasn’t sickening for anything. Simon was busy on his computer in Tom’s office, using the newly installed wi-fi system.

“So what does it feel like to be doing the school run? Shouldn’t you have a Chelsea tractor to do it properly?”

“Stella, you ought to know by now, that only applies if you live within half a mile of the school and it must never be driven off road, except when parking on the pavement.”

“I thought you cyclist types rode on the pavement all the time anyway?” This was a deliberate provocation and tended to indicate she was feeling better. I played along with it.

“Nah, it makes it too difficult to run red lights from the pavement.”

“So you’re not colour blind, after all?” she teased.

“No, red green is sex linked isn’t it and affects men.” I couldn’t remember if it did or not and I’ll bet she couldn’t either.

“I suppose that lets you out then,” she said huffily as her latest stirrings came to nought. “So when are you going to make an honest man of Simon?”

“I can’t, Stel, he’s a banker, remember?”

“Oh poo, so he is—hey, wait a minute, are you calling my daddy a cheat and rogue as well?”

She was feeling better. “No, but Henry is also a banker.”

“Yep, so he is, but he’s got more style than my bro, who is a banker with a capital W.

“There is no W in bank...oh,” I blushed, “he might have been last night, I was asleep when he came to bed.” We both laughed at that.

“Has his technique improved?” she asked.

“At what?” I asked blushing.

“You know,” she said winking.

“I know what?” I felt stupid and embarrassed.

“You know...that three letter word.”

“Like dog, or God, or...and, can’t think of any more,” I was still tired.

“No, you ninny, the sex word, s-e...oh, I said it didn’t I?”

“Did you? I don’t think it’s appropriate to discuss your brother’s performance with you, Stella, it is rather personal.”

“Oh, be like that then.” She flounced out of the kitchen and I put the groceries away and started organising lunch, although my mind was on how a little girl would cope with a packed lunch and being on her own until I collected her at end of school. She had said she would cope, and I pretty well believed her. Simon said he would get her in the Jaguar, which would please her no end. I wasn’t sure if it meant she would increase her kudos in school, but it was quite a cool car in which to be seen, so it could hardly do it any harm.

Part of me knew that such stuff was rather superficial and shallow and involved all the things I was trying to teach them to avoid. Yet another part seemed happy to go for things which brought about results most quickly. I needed to stick to my standards; if I wanted to preach to my kids, then I had to practice it myself. Some parts of parenthood seem harder than others—by this I meant the practical aspects were harder than the theory—I think it probably applied to life in general, but for now I was happy to see it in terms of parenting, my most immediate concern.

I made us bacon sandwiches for lunch, using the bread I’d made yesterday. Simon hadn’t appreciated that the funny noise coming from the kitchen was the breadmaker telling us it was done and remove the bread. Fortunately Stella did understand and removed said loaf. Now I was using mine to get lunch, and another mix was going on in the machine as I cooked the bacon.

Stella seemed to have worked off her ill humour because during lunch she was fine, ribbing Simon quite cleverly at times. I do wonder if anyone could be as dull as Simon at times appears, if they were, they’d have a full time job remembering to breathe.

She teased him about the Jag as a phallic inadequacy replacement. He ignored her. She told him the same thing in a different way, “I hear you’re not too wonderful in the hidden assets department?”

“I’m not saying anything in case the tax man is listening.”

“What you mean they tax you on, you know...?”

“Of course they do, capital gains tax, as well as unearned income and so on.”

“I’m talking about Mr Happy, Si.”

“Can’t say I know anyone of that name, Stella.”

“Look, stoo-pid, what comes to mind when I say, Mr Happy?”

“A cartoon character by Roger Hargreaves.” I had to leave the table, it was so painful to watch. Either he was cleverer than I thought or he was so thick, he’d need his mittens sewn to the ends of his sleeves. I cleared up the table and didn’t go back into the room until the conversation was over.

“Geez, Cathy, is that man stupid or very stupid?”

“I can’t answer that, Stella. On one hand I let down Simon and the other, I let you down. I’m not playing.”

“Can I hear the baby?” I said pausing for a moment to listen. It was and she went off to sort her out.

As soon as she went up stairs, Simon came into the kitchen, “What the hell was she going on about? If it’s what I think it is, she ccould only have got the info from you.”

“I promise you she didn’t, I refused to play her silly games. She was speculating or just stirring.”

“It hurt, all the same.”

“I expect it could, but I had no part in it, honestly.”

“Okay, I believe you. Mind you, if her aspersions were true, I’d only have a small part in it myself.”

He sniggered and I laughed with him. At least he could take a joke against one of the average bloke’s most vulnerable areas. Maybe he did have hidden assets, and I don’t mean of the material sort.