Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 947 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

How can you tell the children are on school holiday? It’s raining cats and dogs. Still if it was blood, I’d be worried waiting for the rest of the plagues to happen. Once after a particularly prolonged period of precipitation, I phoned B&Q DIY superstores to ask the price of gopher wood, these days?

The numskull who answered after I’d been put through to the timber department, had no idea what I was on about. I said I wanted to build an ark, he still had no idea. I then mentioned Genesis, he’d heard of them–met Phil Collins at a charity gig. I rang off after he suggested calling a specialist timber yard. By then the joke was old and I was bored with it.

We seem to live in a world dominated by people with attention spans of about twenty seconds, who have little in the way of education, use drink or use drugs and get violent at the drop of a hat.

Maybe I’m a bit prejudiced following my experience this afternoon. We’d gone shopping–the we being Trish, Livvie and Mima with Julie and me. We’d done the dreary bit–the food shop and it was being delivered by the supermarket–Stella was there to let them in and could put it away which I’d arranged it with her before we left.

I’d promised them an outfit each for Easter–which by the prognostications of the Met Office looked like a wet suit might be most suitable, teamed with wellies and a sou’wester.

We went to the nicest of the shopping malls in Portsmouth–Gunwharf Quays. After a quick lunch–quite literally a baguette and a drink we set off round the shops. Simon had taken the two boys out on Sunday–they were chuffed, they don’t go in his Jaguar very often. They also talked him into springing for a whole pile of clothes, which probably wasn’t a bad thing–they have much fewer than the girls–but that’s life, boys need fewer clothes, because left to them they’d never change them or wash them. They think differently since Julie asked them to stand downwind of her, and made one or two rude comments after she sniffed a bit.

Recently, they’ve actually stuck to my insistence that they change their underwear every day along with their socks. Pullovers and trousers do for a week unless they get soiled–or in their case, holed in the knees when playing football in the playground. I got fed up with buying new ones which lasted less than a week–so I began patching them or darning them.

At one point, I threatened to patch them with pink floral patterned material unless they were careful–the threat was never proven, they took shorts or old trousers to wear to play in the school yard.

Back to the present: in Gap we found a pair of leggings and a bum hugger top for Julie, and Livvie wanted something similar in a different colour. Julie’s was grey and black, Livvie’s was pink and green–she looked like a mobile sweet-pea, but she was happy.

In Marks and Spencer, Mima saw a dress she liked–have I mentioned before that she’s very girly, even compared to Trish, who can go all feminine and frilly on me. Trish wanted some new jeans, but very specific ones she’d seen in the Next catalogue. So we traipsed to Next and she found them after quoting the garment number to the assistant. They were blue denim with pink stripes through them and embroidered flowers climbing up the main seams. She wanted a reversed colour sweat shirt, which was pink with blue stripes and flowers climbing up the arms, and a pink polo shirt.

Then I got stung for shoes: Trish wanted trainers, Livvie wanted Uggli boots and Julie wanted some more ballet pumps, which Mima decided she wanted as well.

By mid afternoon my debit card was feeling overused. I needed some more money, so went to one of our banks to draw some through the cashier. I only wanted a hundred but the little chap on the desk tried to suggest I was up to my limit for the day. I asked how so, and he told me my card had seen quite a bit of action and they were suspicious of it.

I pointed to the row of children behind me–“They have all had a new outfit today, unfortunately, they tend to have expensive tastes.”

“Yes, Mrs Cameron, but your card has a limit.”

“Since when–that only applies to cash withdrawals and I only want a hundred in cash.”

“Your card has seen unusual amounts of activity today.”

“Yes, they’re standing behind me.”

“I’d need to get this verified”–and as I was about to blast him, he added–“it’s for your own protection.”

He came back with a supervisor a few moments later. “How may I help?” she asked.

“I want a hundred pounds in cash please.”

“You have sufficient funds in your account?”

“I hope so, if not I’d like to know why?”

“Well your account has seen rather a lot of use today.”

“Look, when Henry got me to open this account, he didn’t mention petty rules and restrictions.”

“I’m sorry, who is Henry?” she asked walking straight into my trap.

“Henry Cameron, Viscount Stanebury–your chairman.”

She went very pale and then blushed. “I–um–suppose you’re family of his?” she asked tentatively.

“He’s my father in law, why does that make a difference.”

“No, um–of course not, we try to protect everyone’s account from potential fraud.”

“Can I withdraw my money then, before I ask him to close this branch?”

“But of course,” she nodded at the bank clerk who with trembling hands counted out my money and handed it to me.

I smiled and thanked him.

“You were a long time, Mummy,” remarked Livvie.

“I wanna wee,” said Mima loudly.

We scrambled to the nearest loo and I waited outside laden with bags while they all went in. I’ve heard of safety in numbers but this was pushing it a bit. I stood by the entrance holding all these bags when two youths, quite large ones–both white, wearing hoodies and jeans approached. It being a school holiday, I tried not to pay too much attention.

Suddenly, one pushed me and I crashed backwards into the convenience wall, winding me and causing me to drop some of the bags. Then the robbery began–the one youth grabbed my handbag, a shoulder bag, which was still draped over my arm.

I allowed his pull to help me to my feet just as his colleague aimed a kick at me. I managed to parry that with my hand, then twisted to avoid the punch the other one threw, whilst kicking him quite hard in the knee. He swore, his friend tried to kick me again and this time I leapt out of the way kicking the bag grabber in the groin. This time he went down and released my bag.

At this point bystanders were starting to gather and I heard Trish scream when the remaining thug pulled a knife. “I’m gonna cut you bad, bitch.”

I said nothing but as he advanced towards me Julie flung one of her boots at him, followed by Trish and Livvie. It didn’t hurt him but it did distract him long enough for me turn and kick him at chest level, followed by one to his face as he stumbled backwards, and then one to the ligaments of his knee. He fell backwards with quite a smack on the hard floor, and I stamped on his hand holding the knife–before kicking the latter away from his reach. The first thug got up and staggered away right into the arms of a large security guard.

The bystanders, stood and applauded, and I rather pointedly said, “I had a different sort of hand in mind, but thanks for nothing.” They went off muttering.

The police arrived on the scene quite quickly, the videotape was secured and I made a statement, then went home.

“You were amazing, Mummy,” said Julie, “ can you teach me to do that?”

“And me,” added Trish and Livvie.

“How about we sign you up for dance lessons?” I offered.

“What? No way, I wanna learn kick boxing.”

When we got home my back was hurting, “About bloody time, what a day I’ve had, these boys have been absolute murder while you lot were gadding about enjoying yourselves...”

We all looked at Stella and burst out laughing.