The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3154 by Angharad Copyright© 2017 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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I talked with Simon in bed that night saying that I resented Tom trying to control me.

“That’s a bit exaggerated isn’t it, control you?”

“Well that’s what it felt like.”

“He cares about you, that’s all.”

“It felt more like just because I’m a woman, I’m there to do what he wants.” I played the feminist card expecting Simon to shoot me down, he didn’t quite.

“No that’s my job.”

“What to do his bidding?” I played thick—my natural state.

“No, you to do mine, little wifey.”

“Dream on you sporran basher, just because you can now make instant porridge doesn’t give you claims over me, you know.”

“Damn, I thought it did—it’s the only reason I fed those awful brats of ours.”

“If you hadn’t they’d have eaten you instead.”

“Hadn’t thought of that, come to think of it, they were giving me funny looks as if deciding how long I’d take to cook at regulo 5 or whatever.”

“No they’d have fallen on you and eaten you alive.”

“What like mosquitoes?”

“Mosky toes? No they’d have eaten all of you, except the bones and probably the fat—so actually they might have left quite a bit of you—enough to bury or run an oil lamp for a few months.”

“Gee thanks, now I know you only want me for my blubber.”

“I’m not Japanese, besides I’m not into cannibalism, especially with someone from the upper classes, they’re so interbred it could only lead to either indigestion or Creutzfeld Jakob disease.”

“Interbreeding—huh! I’ll have you know my grandparents were from different families.”

“What different clans?”

“No, different families. My grandmother was my grandfather’s sister’s sister.”

“He married his sister?” I gasped.

“Or that might have been Tutankhamen, I frequently confuse the two.”

“How could you confuse the two?”

“He sailed a boat around the pharaohs or so he said.”

“You don’t perchance mean the Faroe Islands, do you?”

“Ah—good point. I never quite recovered from learning of camels as ships of the desert and used to think of Grandad sailing round Akhenaten on his camel.”

“In his kilt no doubt?”

“Did Akhenaten wear kilts then?”

“Doubt it, unless he was a Campbell.”

“Oh Glencoe and all that?”

“Aye, lassie, oor memories go back frae centuries.”

Wondering if the porridge had finally had an effect I simply said, “What?”

“What were we talking about, can’t remember.”

At this point I decided I would either laugh or kill him, the latter would probably be messier, so I laughed and so did he and then he...but you don’t need the graphic details.

“I see Boris has cancelled Russia,” said Simon, the next morning, reading my Observer.

“How can you cancel Russia—great idea but not without some personal risk, especially with, half naked Putin wrestling bears or perhaps they were large jelly babies, you know those things the kids like that they make in Germany.”

“What Haribo or whatever?”

“That’s the one, see you can remember.” I certainly could, the slight soreness somewhere would remind me all day.

“Remember what?”

“No it’s Cameron these days unless I’m working.”

“You lied to me, you said your name was Catherine.”

What d’you say to a statement like that? I ignored it, I’ve had plenty of practice. We were still at breakfast when David came in.

“Tea anyone?” he asked filling the kettle, so we sat talking for another half an hour—I could have done the crossword in that time except Simon had his elbow on the newspaper the whole time.

“Have you organised any dormouse surveys, Mummy?” asked Danielle.

“I asked Diane to send an email round to all my survey leaders on Friday, so won’t have any answers yet.”

“Can I come, I quite enjoy doing them.”

“Of course you can, sweetheart. Has Trish said anything?” She usually comes.

“Only about ticks and Lyme disease.”

“Trust her. The risks are very small especially if you wear long trousers and tuck them into your socks.”

“Well I was hardly going to wear a mini skirt was I?”

“I wouldn’t recommend it in woods with thick undergrowth, if your knickers caught on the brambles it could get very draughty.” Simon spluttered tea everywhere as I dropped this pearl of wisdom, or was it Wisden?

Simon went off to shower—again—and guess who got the job of washing his soiled clothing. Now if only he’d done what I asked, which was to wash the cars, it wouldn’t have happened. He brought the dirty stuff down and I chucked it all in the washing machine along with a few other bits and pieces. It was warm and sunny and would dry on the line in no time. Had I not been sore I’d have considered a bike ride. I just hoped Danni or one of the others didn’t think of it, especially Simon, he loves to tease me, though I do get my own back, usually.

Stella had taken her two out for a walk, which was as rare an event as a sunny bank holiday—they’d taken Kiki, who although she’d been for one walk with Tom already, didn’t turn down a chance of another. I did offer to walk the cat, but Bramble wasn’t interested.

Simon went off with the newspaper and I did some housework and then some more emails when no one was looking. I noticed Tom was skulking into his study, so he was still working, but that and a bit of gardening is all he does. He does less in the way of putting the girls to bed because he said they were too old for bedtime stories or for him to supervise them getting changed into their pyjamas. He was probably correct on both counts but I hate to think they’re getting older and moving towards independence.

Next weekend, Julie and Phoebe are moving into their new flat. We did manage to find some new curtains and carpets and Danielle and I helped them hang the curtains—they looked really good with the new carpets. No wonder I’m behind with everything, I’ve hardly had any time to myself. After dinner, I was going to pop out for a walk on my own. I’d sneak out through the orchard and have a wander through the fields that Tom also owns—he’s an astute purchaser and while I know he bought them to stop building, even if they were compulsorily purchased he’d make quite bundle. A local farmer rents them and when I went for my walk, there were sheep in the field.

I love this time of year, everything in bud or just starting to leaf, with the early flowers under the trees sucking up the sunlight as quickly as they could to get their life cycle over before the oak trees come into full leaf and shade them out. The bluebells were just starting as well, another week or so and the place will be full of their perfume and buzzing bumble bees. Goodness it’s Easter next weekend, so that means today is Palm Sunday. See education is never lost—sadly neither is the conditioning by religion.