The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1973 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Despite her protests, Stella and her brood tucked into the spaghetti with relish. In fact the only one who complained was Simon who explained it was what he had for lunch, and although he was hungry, he wasn’t eating it twice in a day.

I was tempted to go into a Monty Python sketch about being so poor we had to eat our shoes, or something like that, except it would have started him off and he’d probably have still been going this time next week. Instead I asked him what he’d like and after the usual suggestive banter, he settled for a jacket potato with cheese and onion.

“I’ve packed my case,” reported Danny as I was making Simon’s meal.

“Good boy, how many pairs of pants have you packed?”

“Four undies and two pairs of trousers.”

“Have you got your toiletries?”

“Um got my toothbrush and paste, my flannel, shampoo and my Lynx (the height of sophistication to young males).”

I think I got volunteered to take him to the school the next morning for six o’clock, as Si had a meeting first thing, and besides, being a woman, I’ve got nothing better to do than paint my nails and brush my hair–once he’d peeled me a grape I agreed with him.

I sent Danny to bed early, although I knew he wouldn’t sleep, he was like a bottle of pop. The girls went on time and I went straight after them, though I had awful trouble getting to sleep in case I overslept. However, I didn’t hear Si come up about eleven.

I dreamt, I always do, it’s just that I don’t usually remember them. This time I did because the goddess woman was explaining that I’d been led to be where I was earlier on so I could learn to use the energy without drawing too much attention to myself. That I’d used the distraction of the man having the affair rowing with his wife, showed I’d learnt the skill of creating a diversion while I did the biz out of most people’s gaze.

I got cross with the goddess suggesting that if she’d endangered a young woman’s life just for me to practice deception, she’d picked the wrong woman in me. Her retort was swift, ‘We do not make mistakes, Catherine, please remember this fact, we will not reiterate it.’

I apologised, I think, but was still seething when I woke up at half past two needing a wee. I sat on the loo and the words, ‘We do not make mistakes, you were chosen for a reason.’ Whether or not she told me the reason, I have no idea because I forgot that bit of the dream.

Ah, it’s all cobblers anyway, what purpose could li’l ol’ me have that requires the presence of the goddess? Seeing as she seems prepared to sacrifice humans to get her own way, unless she’s the patron saint of dormice, I can’t see that any of my life so far has been particularly relevant to any of her ‘purpose’–unless you regard my changing gender as pivotal because the so called essence was strong in me.

I washed my hands and went back to bed deciding it was just my brain trying to rationalise what had happened earlier on, and the fact that I have this healing gift which disturbs me, or my rational self. What would Darwin have thought of it?

I know what he’d have thought, if could have saved his beloved daughter, he’d have believed twelve impossible things before breakfast.

The alarm peeped at five and I dragged myself out of bed only to find Simon was already in the bathroom shaving. “You could have woken me?”

“I thought you were awake, you were talking loudly enough.”

“Who me?” I was astonished.

“Well who else sleeps in my bed?”

“You were on about some purpose and saving someone important not just a bloody cyclist.”

“I said that?”

“From what I remember, you got quite cross at one point and I thought I’d have to wake you up before you hit someone viz me?”

I had a wee and went to rouse Danny only to find he was already awake and drying his hair with a towel–his bedroom smelt of antiperspirant deodorant, with which I suspect he’d fumigated himself–nothing could live in that. When I asked if there were girls going on the trip, he blushed and went very shy.

“Well just behave yourself and respect them.”

“Aw, Mum, I do–so why can’t you respect me.”

“I do, son, but it’s my job to remind you–which I do because I care.”

“Yeah, but about who?”

“All of you and any unborn child you created.”

“I’m not creating any children.”

“Not for a few years, I hope.”

“With my prospects, I won’t be able to afford any, full stop.”

“You have lots of potential, Danny, just believe that and don’t be shy about asking your dad or me for help if you need to.”

“Yeah, okay,” he blushed before adding an almost undetectable, “thanks.”

I left him to get ready and reminded him about his camera which he’d forgotten to pack. He thanked me. I went down and after switching on the kettle, began doing some bacon and eggs. When Simon came down I pretended it was all for Danny which made him grumble, but he still found time to eat the plateful of food I shoved into his hand.

Danny ate a full breakfast as well, while Sammi and I had a bacon sarnie, and I couldn’t speak for the others, but mine was delicious. A little later, Danny dumped his bag in the boot of the car and I carried his rucksack. Then it was off to his school and a quick hug before he went to join his friends, boys and girls and they boarded the coach. He was with a small group which included his friend, and I suspect, his sister. She looked directly at me and then said something to him. He blushed and then they were up the steps and into the bus.

I got back into the car after he gave me a last wave and drove off as the six o’clock news began. Somehow I was listening to Radio Solent, the local BBC radio station, why I had no idea unless Danny had changed it over, however when they mentioned the accident it suddenly got all my attention.

“It’s reported that yesterday afternoon, one of Britain’s best women cyclists, Sandra Birtles, was involved in a nasty collision with a hit and run driver. Thanks to the prompt action of another driver, she was saved and her injuries are not thought to be life threatening. She’s recovering at a hospital in Guilford.”

Oh well if she’s up in Guilford they’re unlikely to tie me in with it all, even though people like Andy know about the healing. As I drove back to the house, I sent her some more energy and hoped it would help her get back on her bike as quickly as possible. It seems these days, they start training and planning for years in advance of the event and I recall, Cav saying that when they knew the World Championships were in Denmark, British Cycling began to plan to win it with him then, some three or four years before. That time it worked rather well and I think he was a worthy wearer of the rainbow jersey.

The Monty Python sketch http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xe1a1wHxTyo