The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 2077 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“Did you like Cindy, Mummy?” asked Trish as we drove home in Simon’s XK.

“She seems a very nice young woman,” who just needs drawing out a little.

“I knew you’d like her,” she smirked.

“Did you know she was transgender before the bullying episode you interrupted?”

“There were rumours.”

“What sort of rumours?”

“Oh different ones.”

“What d’you mean different ones?”

“That she was really a boy; that she was a lezzie–you know.”

I did indeed only it was the other way round. As a boy I was accused of being a girl pretending to be a boy or being a gay boy. None of it was fun, and as for suggesting it’s only adults who have problems with people who are different, children do as well–though their prejudices might well come from significant adults or cultures. But there are always those brave individuals who go against the grain and publicly support the outcasts, sometimes at great personal risk to themselves or their family; which makes me both ashamed and proud of being a human being.

In the case of Cindy, I was ashamed of the girls who were bullying her but proud that my daughters were prepared to take action to support her, even against girls who were so much bigger than they were. On the other hand, I have to be careful condoning actual violence–tricky one that.

“I see, so what did you think she was?”

“A girl–duh.”

I felt myself blushing either that or we had a sudden heat wave in the car. How is it that I get myself admonished by an eight year old and agree with her. I tried to cover my mistake. “I realise that, but from the rumours, what did you think?”

“If it walks like a duck, Mummy–as Auntie Stella says–it probably is a duck.”

Strike two against me. Do I try and talk my way out of that one and risk digging myself in deeper or call it a day and admit she runs rings round me? “I know that, sweetheart, but did you realise she was transgender?”

“Of course,” she said it so dismissively I almost shut up altogether.

“How did the maths lesson go?”

“What mine or the one I gave Cindy?”

“You had one today?”

“Yeah, just after we got to school, some calculus.” I always thought that was a type of kidney or bladder stone.

“I thought today was about the parties?”

“It was for everyone else, but Mr Michaels came in so I had to have my lesson.”

“D’you still get on with him?”

“He’s okay and he knows his stuff. He said that Oxford would probably accept me at about fifteen.”

“Goodness.”

“That’s what I thought, I’ll be so old by then. I wondered if Cambridge would take me younger?”

“I have no idea, sweetheart, perhaps we’ll get Sister Maria to ask them when you go back next year.”

“Mummy, can we go up to the castle this year?”

“I–er don’t know, sweetheart.”

“If we do go, can Cindy come with us?”

“We’ll have to see. I honestly don’t know if we’re going or not.”

“Isn’t Daddy the lord or something?”

“The laird.”

“Yeah whatever.”

“Yes, in theory anyway, Grampa Henry made it over to him, he’s got a chateau in France these days.”

“What, a French castle?”

“Not necessarily a castle, many chateaux are just large houses like some of the Scottish castles are simply fortified farmhouses or manor houses. There’s one in Dorset called Woodsford castle which is thatched so it’s hardly a castle is it?”

“A thatched castle? That’s silly, Mummy.”

“Look it up on the internet when we get home, you’ll see what I mean.”

“I will, I can’t believe they built castles with thatched roofs.”

“In the mediaeval period, some of the buildings within a castle keep might have been thatched, it was cheaper than stone, warmer and less heavy so it wouldn’t need such strong wooden supports, joists and so on. The danger was that of fire, as it still is. I believe thatched cottages are expensive to insure.”

“Castles don’t burn, Mummy, they’re made of stone–that doesn’t burn,” she rolled her eyes.

“It does sweetheart, if the fire gets hot enough stone will burn, or melt or explode.”

“Explode?” suddenly she was interested.

“Yes, some stone has water in it, if it gets hot the water expands as steam and the stone or rock explodes.”

“Wow, what type of rock does that?”

I turned into the driveway and parked Simon’s precious car–I much preferred my own XF, though the new F-type, looks very nice–not sure it would be any good for the school run.

“So what is this rock that explodes, Mummy?”

“I told you, any with trapped water inside it, or any other volatile liquid or gas.”

“What does volatile mean?”

Had I done it again? I could have said like Auntie Stella, but I didn’t, instead I told her what it meant.

“So a bit like Auntie Stella, then?” she laughed and I nearly wet myself–sometimes I wonder if this child can mind read.

“I don’t think you’d better say that in front of Auntie Stella, she might not think it’s funny.”

“Don’t be silly, Mummy; I’m eight you know, not five; besides she always uses it to describe you.”

“Oh does she now?”

Stella was in the kitchen when we arrived back home. “Neal phoned to see how Lizzie was.”

“Dash, and we missed it.”

“I told him the baby was looking very good and that she behaves herself when you whip her a few times at the start of a lesson.” Stella’s sense of humour is idiosyncratic to say the least.

“How did he sound?”

“Not too bad, except he seemed very tired.”

“Did he speak to Phoebe?”

“Of course–she’s up with Julie.”

“Doing what?”

“How would I know?”

“Some deputy you are.”

“Deputy?”

“Yes, I left you in charge while I was out.”

“I beg your pardon...” she sounded horrified and offended–think Lady Bracknell and the handbag scene.

I just cracked up and had a giggle fit. She got even more exasperated and flounced off muttering under her breath, all of which just made me giggle even more uncontrollably. In the end I had to rush to the toilet before I wet myself almost bowling Simon over as I went.

On emerging from the cloakroom he asked me if I’d been crying, my eyes were watering but trying to describe what happened had me off giggling again. It was several minutes before I could tell him and that set me off once more. He really couldn’t understand what I was on about, I suspect thinking me an hysterical female, just because I was. He walked off shaking his head and muttering something about ‘women’, so I suspect I might have known what that was. Whoopie doo.

By the time I went to bed Stella and I had made up our differences but only because I agreed to feed little Lizzie and thus allow Stella to go to bed. I think I might have been had.

https://www.google.co.uk/search?q=woodsford+castle&client=fi...