The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1944 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I came to, disturbed from my slumbers by the radio–why I wasn’t sure, as the girls are on half term. I had to think hard, I felt stupefied having not slept very well last night. I think I heard foxes in the night or perhaps it was the kitten squealing, whatever it was, I woke up went for a wee and couldn’t get back to sleep again. Oh poo, Danny is still in school and of course Julie is still working and I think Phoebe was helping at the salon today–well it’s some pocket money for her.

I struggled out of bed, and listened to all this stuff about the Pope–what’s he done now? Silly old fart. It sounded like he’s retiring–oh good–then the bad news–his replacement is likely to be a clone of him because he’s created so many cardinals of his own conservative viewpoint. Oh well, we all know that climate change and the collapse of capitalism is all due to transsexuals–so that was me and who else? I tittered as I went to shower. Nothing like a good titter first thing in the morning.

They were still on about the bloody Pope–apparently because he’s tweeted once or twice they think he has a clue what day it is–ha ha. You could give an iPad to a monkey and it would still be a monkey, the same goes for his loneliness.

I roused Danny and the two older girls, then went down to put the kettle on–one day it might fit. I made tea as they staggered into the kitchen. “Good night was it?”

“Oh don’t,” groaned Julie–at least she hadn’t taken her car, her deliveryman friend had collected her and Phoebe and they’d been out until quite late, well midnight, which I think is late enough when you have to work the next day.

“Oh hell, I’ve got Mrs Walrus in for a perm today,” groaned Julie, “she’s ’orrible, with a capital O.”

Phoebe laughed, she obviously hadn’t imbibed as much as Jules. “Who’s Mrs Walrus?” she asked.

“Should I have her in my mammal survey?” I asked jokingly.

“Why, are walruses mammals, then?”

“Of course they are, what did you think they were, fish?”

“Hadn’t really thought about it.” Then to Phoebe she said, “She’s a big fat lump like a seal, only she has this huge moustache which goes down the sides of her mouth–hence Mrs Walrus.”

“Oh my god,” offered Pheebs, “Why doesn’t she get rid of it–doesn’t she know we do hair removal?”

“How do I know, she looks like that Mexican bandit.”

I had to deal with Catherine who was squawking as she came down with Trish, “She woke me up,” grumbled megabrain.

“So, you staying up or going back to bed?”

“I might as well stay up now.”

“Where’s Danny? Trish, can you go and check he’s up?”

“I only just got here,” she grumbled but went back up the staircase. Two minutes later she was back, “He went back to sleep.” This time she stayed for breakfast. I made a pile of toast and it disappeared as did the teapot full of tea.

Tom came back from his walk with Kiki. “You having coffee, Daddy?” I called.

“Aye, I’ve somethin’ tae dae first.” He went out to one of the outhouses and went off down the drive carrying a shovel. I carried on with the breakfasts including my own, banana on toast–it keeps me going longer than cereal.

Tom returned and washed his hands. “What was that all about with the shovel?” I asked him.

Danny arrived and asked for cereal. I handed him the packet of cornflakes. “A big dog fox got hit in thae road, I scraped him up an’ chucked him o’er thae hedge.”

“Gramps, I’m eating,” protested our champion drinker.

“I wis tellin’ yer ma, not ye.” He winked at me, “There wis blud an’ guts all over thae place,” he continued and Julie took the bait again.

“Was there?” I asked quietly.

“Not a mark on him, I shifted him afore there wis.”

I nodded.

“You’re going to miss the bus aren’t you?” I asked Danny while looking at the clock.

“Oh hell, I am, too.” He rose from the table only having eaten half his breakfast.

“Sit down, I’ll take you, just don’t make a habit of it.”

“Thanks, Mum.”

“That’s okay, I need to go to Waitrose anyway.”

“Can I come?” asked Trish.

“Run up and quickly wash and dress then.” She was off before I could finish the sentence.

“She’ll make me late now,” Danny pouted.

“No she won’t, and besides, if she hadn’t checked to see you were up, you’d still be in bed. Now finish your breakfast and stop whingeing.”

Trish was still pulling on her Ugg boots as she came down the stairs. Julie and Phoebe left, Phoebe still laughing at the Mrs Walrus caricature.

A few moments later we walked briskly to the car and took Danny to his school. Why they can’t all have the same holidays? I don’t know–possibly it’s because the girls actually do longer hours each week, so have to do fewer weeks–I’ve no idea.

Waitrose isn’t far from John Lewis, so we did the food shopping and left it in the boot, then went off to the department store. I wanted to see if they had some more panties for Trish, for some reason the tumble drier decided to scorch them all–or at least all the ones of hers that were in there. The engineer chap is coming later to check it over. It gets loads of work so might need replacing–though like the washing machine, it’s a commercial size, not one you’d normally see in a house.

Having purchased a pack of panties, we were just coming out when we ran into Mrs Alcott, if you remember the bible thumping retired teacher who bashed my car but only coughed up after I helped her to see again.

“Lady Cameron, our angelic aristocrat, how are you?” she effused all over me.

I’m well, Mrs Alcott, and yourself?”

“You should know better than I,” she said and laughed. I felt shoppers looking at us as they went past.

“Hello, Tricia,” she looked down at Trish, who beamed.

“Good morning,” she said adjusting her hand on the bag of panties.

“Been buying up the store?” she addressed to my daughter.

“Nah, only a few knickers–they get ruined after sex.”

Mrs Alcott gave me a horrified look and went into the shop. I dragged Trish out and asked her what she meant.

“After I use my thingy–the iodine stuff stains my knickers.”

“That’s dilating, Trish, not sex.”

“That isn’t what you call it when Daddy dilates you, is it?”

I think I was still blushing when we drove out of the car park.