Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 734 by Angharad

The next day was Monday, and Stella and I decided to go shopping. The weather forecast was very mixed, and although temperatures on the Continent were soaring, they weren’t doing so here. Having said that it wasn’t exactly cold, just miserable.

Between us, we got the girls and ourselves ready to hit the shops of Brissle a little after nine. To do this we’d been slogging since just after seven. Puddin’ had been sick all over the first choice of clothes, then she pooed herself just as we were about to leave. I had to wash all my three’s hair–it must have been slightly damp when they went to bed –because it was standing up all over the place.

Finally, I got into the shower and the hot water went off, leaving me squealing like a banshee then afterwards, shivering because I needed to shower and wash my hair. It would certainly have put me off sex as hypothermia is wont to do. As Simon wasn’t in the vicinity, it was hardly an issue in any case.

The trip through the Bristol traffic jam was a real chore. Next time we’ll wait until well after nine and avoid it. We drove to the out-of-town shopping centre at Cribbs Causeway and spent most of the day there. It showered on and off all day, so we were hardly missing out on a trip to the beach.

I kept the girls quiet by allowing them to have one new item of clothing each, but they had to decide what they wanted and it had to be no more than twenty five pounds. Then Stella spoiled things by saying she’d add another twenty-five so they could have two items up to twenty five each or one for fifty.

She bought loads of stuff for Puddin’ and finally Trish decided she wanted the pink trainers she’d seen way back. They were going to use up her fifty pounds, but she seemed content with that. I promised we’d get them on the way back to the car.

Stella bought herself a new top and skirt in Monsoon which was delightful–a mix of pastel colours swirling around like huge paisley patterns. Meems wanted some boots, so we got her some and change from twenty-five, so she was allowed a second go. Livvie wanted a dress and some leggings to go under it, she already had some boots she could wear with the outfit or some ballet type shoes.

I bought some red patent ballet shoes to wear with my own footless tights and coming out of the shoe shop Meems saw some shorts she liked, so we got those.

We had lunch at McDonalds, by popular request. We all had the chicken salad thing and some milk shakes. I know it’s all crap, but I think this was the first time I’d allowed the girls to visit one since they’d been with me. They thought it was wonderful, Stella and I were trying not to take too much notice and at least they had a highchair so Puddin’ had her bottle and a jar of baby-goo.

She’s been eating pureed food recently en route to having solids in the next week or two. I suggested doing some stuff in the blender for her; Stella wasn’t sure, leaving it to 57 varieties instead. I tasted a bit on my finger, it was tasteless. I know they have to avoid salt and so on, but it was just mustard coloured goo. In a short time, it would probably be filling her nappy apparently without having changed colour but having a definite niff compared to the jar.

We did a few more shops, including one that does artists’ and craft materials, and I bought three sets of cross-stitch. I was going to teach the girls to sew while they were off school. The one I got for Mima was very basic, the other two had an animal or a bird. Livvie opted for a panda, while Trish decided she’d do one of a robin – European variety, whether it was of the British subspecies Erithacus rubecula melophilus, was anybody’s guess.

As I was paying for these items and one or two other things, I mused on an article I’d seen fairly recently which now classified the European robin as a member of the flycatchers, not the chat like thrushes, which was always where it had been situated before. Seeing one catching flies on the wing, I could easily believe it was correct, but then I’ve seen sparrows do the same, especially when the ants are swarming.

I presume this happens everywhere; if the temperature in summer gets to the right sort of levels, then ants will leave their nests as winged creatures and mate on the wing, the males I believe die off and the females go off to found their own colonies as queens. Huge numbers of them get eaten by birds and other insectivorous creatures, either when flying or when they land.

When you look up at the sky and see dozens of birds darting to and fro, it’s a very good sign that ants are swarming. The same weather lets spiders balloon. Several species do this, essentially what they do is let out a line of silk when they’re standing somewhere fairly exposed, and once the wind takes it, they let go and air currents carry them for miles. Loads of them get eaten by birds as well. Ballooning explains how you can find money spiders crawling about in your hair, it only works with small spiders, so a full-sized garden spider ain’t gonna get off the ground, and if it did and landed on you, you’d soon notice.

Flying insects can be a right pain when cycling, and I nearly always wear some form of eye protection on the bike, because a moderate sized fly or beetle hitting you in the eye, could cause serious damage. I’ve also had butterflies caught up in my helmet, and on one hot day when riding with the zipper of my cycling shirt well open, had to clear out dead flies from my cleavage–only tiny little things, but I know, too much information. I won’t say why I try to keep my mouth shut while riding…

Back to the car and off towards home, as I was parking a small van arrived and a woman got out carrying a bunch of flowers, a rather large one. “Excuse me, are you Lady Cameron?”

“We both are,” I said indicating Stella and myself.

“Oh shit, ’ang on,” she went back to her van and got the clip board. “Lady Cafferine Cameron.”

“That’s me.”

“’Ere,” she said handing me the bouquet, “Didn’t know we ’ad any nobs livin’ round ’ere. Learn somefin’ new every day.”

“Indeed you do,” I agreed, hoping she wouldn’t hear the sniggering from three minors who were getting out of the car with their treasures.

“Simon?” asked Stella as she picked up Puddin’ and some of her shopping.

I opened the card and said, “No, no it isn’t, it’s from Tom.” I showed her the card, which read:

’Cathy dearest, I hope you’ll forgive my faux pas last week, when I suggested the trip to Scotland. On reflection, you were quite right to object and go home for a few days. I hope the weather and the shopping is favourable. I’ve sent the girls some money, hope it arrives safely. Do let me know. Daddy xxx.’

“Awww, he’s such a nice man,” said Stella when she read the card, “better than that fathead of a brother of mine.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t been in touch,” I said, gathering up armloads of shopping, having put the flowers by the front door.

“He’s still licking his ego, I suspect if he was as supple as a dog or cat, he’d be licking something else in your absence.”

“Ugggh, Stella you are quite disgusting at times.”

“Well you know the old joke, why does a dog lick his, ahem, you know whats? Because he can.”

“Yes, Stella, I fell out of my pram laughing at that old one.”

“Land on your head, did you? – could explain a few things.” She roared with laughter at her own joke, also safe in the assurance that as she was carrying Puddin’ I wouldn’t thump her.

“When can we start sewing, Mummy?” Trish asked.

“Can I unload the car first?” I called back feeling that letting them carry all their stuff wasn’t necessarily the best option.

“I’m gonna try my clothes on,” said Livvie and rushed up to the bedroom.

“So’s me,” Mima dragged her bags up the stairs after her new sister.

“Aww, I wanna do some sewing, Mummy.”

I looked at my watch it was four o’clock. “I need a cuppa before I do anything. Then it’ll be time to get dinner, so I’d say after dinner might be a good time to ask. Why don’t you try your new trainers on?”

“I wore them out of the shop, Mummy,” she sighed.

I looked down at her feet, “Oh, so you did,” I said blushing.