The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1129 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Simon came home on the Friday evening and the extra pair of hands meant I had more time to catch up with the rest of the children. Trish assured me she had healed from her DIY surgery, but agreed to show me when she went to bed.

“What happened with the Headmistress?”

“Nothing, why, Mummy?”

“Football or netball?”

“I’m going to play both, see if I prefer one over the other.”

“I didn’t have much choice, it was play it or be in trouble.”

“Your school sounds horrible, Mummy.”

“Things were different then, they’re becoming a little enlightened these days but not enough to say things are okay, especially for children like you and Billie.”

“I’m quite happy, Mummy, my school is very nice.”

“Yes I know, sweetheart, but I pay for your schooling so I’d expect some degree of cooperation from them. Danny’s school isn’t nearly so helpful.”

“Aren’t you sorting them out? Danny said you were.”

“Did he now? I’m merely trying to get his football boots back because they were quite expensive.”

“Were mine expensive?”

“I can’t remember, darling, I asked Danny which ones to get for you and those are the ones he recommended.”

“Doesn’t he have some the same?”

“I don’t know–I have very little interest in football, now cycling shoes, I can talk about intelligently.”

“You are clever, Mummy.”

“Me? Nah, you’re just too young to spot me. When do you have to play football again?”

“On Tuesday and netball is Thursday. They want me to train for football as well as play in games.”

“How often is that?”

“Once a week. If we have any matches with other schools, they’re on a Saturday and that would mean I’ll have played rotten football three times in a week.” She sat on the bed and affected a very hard done by pose.

I laughed at her, “Trish, you are a real ham.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she said pushing her hair off her forehead with a huge sweeping gesture.

I fell about laughing, thinking she should be taking drama lessons not football–she’s a natural actress. Still, I mustn’t put ideas in her mind, her choice of career must come from her not me or anyone else who isn’t qualified to give advice.

Simon and I didn’t have much chance to talk until later, when I brought him up to date on the rest of the brood.

“I’m disappointed with our Trish,” he said, gently stroking my neck.

“Why?”

“Her aptitude for sport.”

“Oh c’mon, Simon, she’s trying football and netball–give her a break.”

“I feel I should have been signing her up for London Scottish.”

“That sounds like an insurance company.”

He guffawed, “You really are precious sometimes, babes.”

“What have I done now?”

“An insurance company? They’re a rugby team.”

“Oops,” I blushed–well how was I to know. “I see Emma Pooley did well.”

“Is she in Trish’s class?” he asked.

Now it was time for me to laugh, “No, silly, she’s just won the elite women’s world time trial race in Australia.”

“I thought you were too busy to take any notice of anything much.”

“It was on the radio this morning.”

“You have time to listen to the radio?”

“Yes, while I’m feeding tiny wee.”

“A likely tale,” he huffed in mock disbelief.

I’d expressed some milk for the morning so Jenny could do the feed, and I’d done the night feed again–when is this little sod going to sleep all night? I snuggled back down and it seemed no time later that we got an invasion of four girls because daddy was home. He’d slept quite well, I was still knackered–I almost sloped off to Trish’s bed while they all cuddled with Simon.

Jenny took the baby and gave her a bottle, and I stumbled about trying to help the kids have breakfast. Danny, it transpired, had a football match so I agreed to take him along with his personal cheer team. We left Jenny to look after the baby, and all trooped off in the Mondeo, which Simon drove to watch Danny play.

The only consolation was seeing the games teacher look guilty when he spotted me standing on the touchline. I was so tired, I nearly fell asleep standing with Simon, leaning against him in the cool breeze, while the girls squealed with delight every time Danny touched the ball. In the first half he made a goal saving tackle–according to Simon–in the second half; he scored the winning goal. He came off the pitch with a smile that threatened to split his face it was so big, he’d proven his worth to the team, and done it in front of the people he most wanted to–his family, to wit, us.

We took Portsmouth’s answer to David Beckham home, and despite the noise, I dozed off in the chair–which apparently they noticed and left me for an hour. I was awakened to be told that Stella had done scrambled eggs on toast for lunch and to come and eat it before it got cold. I think I spent the rest of the day in shock at Stella cooking something.

In the afternoon, Simon did the food shopping for me–with a list–while I took those who wanted to come, for a ride. We did a few miles before turning back and had just garaged the bikes when the rain started, lashing down in torrents. I decided it was my lucky day, on a bad one it would have started at the furthest point from home.

We all scrambled back into the house and I put the kettle on. Simon came back just after, running in with the shopping. How someone can carry eight bags of groceries, I don’t know, but he did, dashing into the house while the girls held the door open for him. The girls helped me put it away, while Danny downloaded photos to his computer that Simon had taken while he was playing football. He was very pleased with that, especially as the goal saving tackle and his goal were both recorded.

Julie was wrapped up like ’The Mummy,’ when she came back from her salon. Leon was unwell with some sort of flu bug, so hadn’t come today, the consequence of which was after dinner, she showed Danny how to do some basic photoshop to his photos, adding captions as well as erasing ugly bits–that sort of thing. They worked together quite happily, while Trish and Billie helped me in the kitchen whilst Meems and Livvie sat chatting with Simon. Tom and Stella were talking as they watched Puddin’ in the baby-bouncer thing, she was shrieking at the top of her voice, she was so excited.

After checking the baby,I made us all a drink and I’d quickly baked a sponge while the oven was on, so we had a drink and a small slice of cake. I glanced about the house and thought, ‘This is how it should be–all of us interacting with other members of the family, and enjoying it.’ Would that it was always like it, but then I suppose we’d be like the bloody Waltons.