The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2433 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“When can we see the Taliban?” asked Trish.

“Never I hope.”

“But you said we could.”

“I said, talayots not Taliban. The first lot are prehistoric stone towers the second lot are a bunch of Arab terrorists.”

“Terrorists, no thanks,” offered Danni, “When are the bikes coming?”

“This morning according to Mr Rodrigues.”

“It’s ten o’clock now, where are they?”

“I told you, he said they’d deliver this morning.”

“I hope you haven’t paid him yet, he’s late.”

“I told you, once they arrive we’ll sort out the saddle heights and so on and then we can ride.”

“I wanna see the Taliban—I mean the other thing.” Trish was become as big a pest as Danni.

“You haven’t put pedals on your bike yet.” Danni had noticed.

“I’m waiting for them to arrive.”

“Where from?”

“Mr Rodrigues is bringing them with the bikes.”

“What about the Taliban?”

“Talayots, Trish,” corrected Livvie who had been listening after all.

“Whatever, when we gonna see them?”

As she spoke so a van pulled into the drive and a thirty something man jumped out and began unloading bicycles from the back of it. He was soon accosted by Danielle and the two larger girls. The fact they were talking showed he must speaka da English, because I don’t recall the girls speaking much if any Spanish.

I arrived to see if I had to sign anything, I did. Then he handed me the package which I presumed had my SPDs; I’d ordered white ones. He told me he’d been asked to see how I’d fared with assembling the bike. I thought it was easier to show him. He was suitably impressed. “Not many senoras could do that,” he remarked and I took it as a compliment.

“Mummy has a whole workshop at home for doing bikes,” Livvie informed him.

“You have a bike shop?” he asked.

“No, I teach at a university, but I’ve messed about with bikes since I was a kid. My husband bought me a set of workshop tools and stand one year for Christmas.”

“They’re all blue, aren’t they, Mummy?”

“Park tools,” he suggested hitting the nail firmly on the head.

“Yes, how’d ya guess that?”

“Because Park tools tools are always blue.” I informed them

“Are they?” seemed an astonished Livvie.

“They are,” confirmed our visitor. Livvie seemed okay with that. I was a little perturbed that she didn’t believe me until my opinion was confirmed by a stranger.
Perhaps she thought I was fibbing.

“Mummy plays such awful practical jokes on people,” accused Livvie and the others nodded in agreement much to my embarrassment.

Between us, we checked all the rented bikes, Danni’s had drop handle bars and she was very pleased, the others were hybrids or mountain bikes with narrower tyres. He also presented me with a puncture repair outfit which I hoped I wouldn’t need. I offered him a coffee and we sat drinking them while Phoebe lay by the pool in a small bikini and kept attracting his attention. I’ll drown her later.

“Your mother is a very special lady,” said the young man.

“We know,” answered Trish, “she’s a expert on dormice.”

“We have dormice on Menorca,” said the man.

“We know, one got into the kitchen and smashed loads of crockery.”

“They are bad news in houses.”

“This one certainly was. We’re going to see the Taliban, later.”

“Taliban?” he gasped looking strangely at me.

“Yes, old stone things, Bronze Age—aren’t we, Mummy?”

“Talayots,” I corrected.

“Ah, talayots, you must see Son Catlar, big wall all around it.”

“Is that the one with the encyclopaedic wall, Mummy?”

“Cyclopean wall, sweetheart.” Now I knew where my guide book had gone.

“Cyclopean?” queried the bike shop man.

“Yes, a type of ancient stone wall with large stones on the bottom and smaller ones above, such as Son Catlar.”

“Ah yes, that wall, it’s cyclopean, is it?”

“Apparently.”

“I must get back to the shop.” He excused himself and Trish escorted him back to his van, “Your mother, she is very pretty lady.”

“She’s a real lady—Lady Cameron, my dad’s a lord.” Did I mention Trish is lousy with secrets? Thankfully he drove off before Trish could tell him Si was a billionaire.

“So, when do we see a talaypot?”

“If we make some sandwiches, we could cycle out to somewhere.”

“Cycle? What’s wrong with the car?”

“Nothing, but it only seats five and there are nine of us.”

“You taking Lizzie on a bike?”

“I haven’t decided, but my idea was some of us could ride and the others could drive.”

“But that’s silly.”

“You could always stay at home.”

“Is Jacquie coming?”

“I haven’t asked her yet.”

“Can’t she stay home with Cate and Lizzie?”

“Why should she, she wants to see the place as much as you do.”

“Oh, okay.”

Trish gets a trifle arrogant but when you challenge her she backs down, almost as if it’s her default position which changes given further information. In reality, we could do with a bigger car or a minibus. I called Mrs Winner and she gave me a number for a car hire place that wouldn’t rob me. I arranged for the hire of a twelve seater minibus. Good job I remembered my licence.

It arrived just after lunch, where we had cheese and tomato sandwiches with some salad garnish. I signed the form, gave him my credit card to insert in his wifi card reader and fifteen minutes later we were off to Son Catlar and its ‘encyclopedic walls.’

I didn’t much like driving such a large vehicle but with everyone on board it was at least a solution. We’d locked the bikes up in the garage and set off. Son Catlar is up towards Cuitadella on the other end of the island and driving on the main road was no bother but once we got onto smaller, twisty lanes, it felt like I was driving some huge juggernaut and once or twice we nearly collected a scratch or two as other cars seemed to have such a cavalier attitude.

It’s a huge archaeological site and the walls are impressive. We wandered round for a couple of hours before Lizzie got too heavy in the papoose and Trish got bored looking at stone walls or the Taula. This a T shaped megalith which had some sort of ritualistic purpose, though they don’t know what. I took loads of photos, so some might be okay. Then we went on to Cuitadella and had some tea and cake, did a few shops, bought postcards and came home. By the time I’d parked in different places and driven in cities and country lanes, I was becoming almost used to the minibus. It didn’t have the class or comfort of my Jaguar, but it did offer a seat for everyone.

I added booted eagle to my list of birds and Egyptian vulture, plus a blue rock thrush who looks wonderful when the sun catches him.