Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 767 by Angharad

The rest of the day went normally after Simon brightened up – and before long, he and Stella were swapping poison coated barbs although, thankfully, no one got a direct hit. As for me? Well I continued doing my household chores and then went and collected the girls from school. They had a bit of homework to catch up with, and Stella nabbed them and chopped their hairs. By the time she’d finished, dinner was more or less ready. We had grilled salmon with jacket potatoes and salad.

I’d finally remembered Trish had to see her shrink on Monday, today was Thursday, and on Saturday, the Tour of Britain road race started. If I get a chance I’ll have to see if I can catch it on the box, seeing as it comes nowhere near here this year. I have marshalled on it before – standing around wearing a yellow hi-vis vest and doing very little else, oh except stopping people from crossing in front of the cyclists who are generally travelling rather quicker than people think, or the support/team cars, who definitely are.

That night, Simon lost his inhibitions from the previous night and I ended up being both sore and tired as a consequence. He fell asleep with a very smug grin on his face – but then he isn’t the one left with the little hygiene matter to clean up. By the time I get back from the bathroom, he’s zonked and I’m cold and sore. It’s been drier but quite cool at times, especially at night. That night I was very glad to have a nice warm body to cuddle with, even if he was fast asleep.

The Friday was normal, or as much as we ever get to it, and the weekend flew by – like they do. Tom is feeling much better and no amount of tests confirm what we know – that he had another heart attack. He’s planning on going back to work, mornings only, for a few days to see how he gets on.

All too soon it was Monday and Trish and I were waiting outside Dr Henschelwood’s room. He was running late and Trish was becoming a little anxious. I got her to read to me, but in her agitated state she made loads more mistakes than she usually does. It helped to occupy her so by the time he called us in, she was reasonably calm.

“So, how are you?” the good doctor asked Trish and she told him at length. Well, he did ask, and she does what she’s asked – sometimes. She told him about going away for a few days with her paternal foster grandparents and how much fun all the girls had had.

“You are lucky to have such generous grandparents.”

“Yes we are, but we have very nice parents and Grampa Tom, is really nice too, he’s a professor and although he earns quite a lot of money, it isn’t like owning your own bank, is it?” I did manage to keep a straight face as the shrink handled it in a very matter of fact way.

He asked her how she was doing in school and how she was coping living fulltime as a schoolgirl. She replied very coolly, that as she was a girl, why was she supposed to find it difficult? Once more I didn’t laugh, although I had great difficulty distracting myself.

Then she asked him when she could have hormones. He glanced at me and I was registering as big a surprise as he must have felt. “Young lady, I’m afraid that hormones are not something we can discuss for a number of years. If you were a normal female, you wouldn’t be experiencing the effects of hormones for a number of years yet.”

“So how long is that?” she asked very seriously.

“Not before you’re at least twelve, if not older. Around that age we can prescribe a drug to block any male hormones your body might produce.”

“Where are they made?”

“Which? The hormones or the drugs?”

“The hormones; can’t you cut that bit off?”

“I’m afraid not, not until you’re much older.”

“Why not?”

“We have set of rules to follow; that’s what they say.”

“Well your rules are wrong,” Trish sounded like a five year old at this moment and I nodded at the doctor to bring it to a conclusion. He asked us to come back in a month’s time.

He also asked me to phone him so he could discuss one or two things when Trish wasn’t present. When we left a moment or two later, she dragged me around the shops for an hour to spoil going back to school until after lunch.

Despite her attempts to coerce, persuade, cajole, and blackmail I didn’t buy her anything, partly because she didn’t need anything and partly because the other two weren’t present to have something too. She got quite sulky at that.

I did buy her lunch while we were out and took her back after we’d eaten. I’d tried taping the bike race but couldn’t get a picture that was worth watching. I was therefore no wiser until I got home and called up Cycling Weekly who always had the most info for a small site. Looked like some Norwegian was trying to dominate the race, and not the one who messes up Cavendish’s sprints if he gets the chance – a real pain.

Next I hear that Wiggo is ceasing the Tour to train for his world time trial championship, which will weaken his Garmin-Slipsteam-Chipotle team. I personally can’t see him beating Cancellara, but who knows, cycling is a funny sport.

When I collected them from school, things were rather subdued. I asked Livvie what was happening. She was very reluctant to say anything. I didn’t push it until we were home. I very casually separated her from the other two and she eventually told me that someone found out Trish was seeing a shrink and teased her. I offered to see the headmistress but Livvie said, no, Trish was dealing with it herself. When I asked what she meant, she said she didn’t know. I left our little meeting feeling very concerned.