The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2241 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Simon set to and helped Julie with the potatoes, we only used a fraction of the bag but I wasn’t going to tell that to Julie, not to begin with. While they did that I peeled and cut crosses in a couple of pounds of sprouts–I don’t particularly like them, but the others do. We finished about the same time. I did carrots and parsnips–I loathe the latter, but appear to be in a minority of one. I also did some red cabbage and few whole green beans. Julie made us a cup of tea while I got peeling mushrooms.

I glanced at the clock. It was nine o’clock, “Where are all the others?” I gasped, it’s Christmas morning, they’ve usually been up for four hours by now.

“Daddy told them they had to stay in bed until nine o’clock to give you a chance of a lie in.”

“How did you manage that?” I asked of my husband, seeing him in a new light.

“I asked them nicely and they agreed, all except Jacquie and she’s looking after the bairns.”

“You asked them or threatened them?”

“A bit of both,” he smiled enigmatically, or tried to; the Mona Lisa does it better.

Ten minutes later, I’d finished fleecing the fungi and drinking my tea–multi-tasking–as all us women do, when a horde of minors burst into the kitchen, washed and dressed in good clothes. Stella appeared behind them strutting about like Miss Jean Brodie.

“Goodness, you all look very neat and tidy.”

“My gels are the crá¨me de la crá¨me,” said Stella dead pan, obviously we were both on the same wavelength. It all descended into farce when Simon recognising the quote from the film said, “ ’Arry Pottah.”

“What?” asked Stella, “Is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you were doing Professor McGonagall, weren’t you?” replied a dead pan Simon, who was getting better with his wind ups.

“Very funny–next Christmas you can do their hair for them.” She huffily went to fill the kettle.

“Well I think you all look splendid–please try to keep them clean all day.” The throng went off to have breakfast as I placed the potatoes on the range to boil. I was roasting them but to speed up the process I parboil them. I checked the turkey, it was doing fine. I then got the tub of breadcrumbs and emptied it in the mixer, one of the advantages of having a proper cook in the house usually, he makes his own bread crumbs. I added dried sage and some onion, some butter, salt and pepper and mixed it up poured some boiling water over it and left it to stand. Next I did sausage meat stuffing, finally I did chestnut and apricot stuffing. Theoretically, you eat a full meal just from the stuffing. Trish came to help me donning a plastic pinny en route.

Jacquie had her breakfast and then began vacuuming helped by Livvie while Meems watched over the little ones. I’m sure she’s either going to be a nursery nurse or midwife–she loves babies and small children. Mind you, so do I and look what happened there.

Danni and Sammi eventually ventured down and after breakfast, Danni laid the table and Sammi sorted the sound system so we had carols playing in the lounge and dining room.

Tom and Simon lit the fire in the lounge, Simon going out to the woodshed to bring in a basket of logs which he stacked in the fireplace to dry–remember, the fireplace is big enough to stand in and the hearth is separate from the fireplace, it sits in the middle in a raised plinth with a cage to contain the logs that are being burnt. It also takes a dogs age to get the fire to go unless you use firelighters, which neither were prepared to concede they needed. Simon uses them for the barbecue but not with logs–he was a boy scout, and all that...

Finally, everything was under control, the dinner was cooking, Julie was making a fresh fruit salad for dessert so I slipped upstairs to shower and change into something tidier. As I dressed I saw something on the bed by my pillow; a package with my name on it. I opened it carefully and saw two silk negligees, one a rose pink and the other a pastel blue–they were beautiful. Only Simon could buy something so exquisite–or his PA. I would thank her later.

I left one folded on my pillow for tonight.

After a quick squirt of scent, so I didn’t smell so much of turkey, I went down and told the children they could get their presents. They’d disappeared before I finished speaking and Simon and Tom stood their smirking. I suppose they’d shown amazing self control and I was impressed by it.

For the next hour we watched them shredding paper and holding up clothing or other items. It seemed they were quite pleased with their hauls. I know Daddy was with his book on malt whiskies and a case of samples from thirty distilleries. I handed Simon the key to my study, “There’s some more stuff in there, would you do me a favour and bring it through.”

“Sure,” he said and off he went. There were lots of presents, most with his name on them. He came back with everything else and distributed them, handing me back the key. “I thought we weren’t doing presents anymore?”

“We aren’t are we?”

“What’s all that stuff in the study?”

“What stuff?”

“You know damn well what stuff?”

“You brought all the stuff I left in there, so what stuff is that, then?”

“Follow me,” he beckoned and I stepped between the children as I followed him to my study. “All this,” he pointed at a pile of gift wrapped packages.

“I have no idea.”

“Come off it, Cathy, this is your study.”

“Perhaps Santa missed the chimney. How d’you know they’re yours?”

“They have my name on them.”

“Do they? Perhaps you’d better open them then, their contents might give you some clues about the donor.”

He didn’t need a second bidding and ten minutes later he stood in the middle of a pile of paper holding a box of fly tying tools, including a small vice, forceps and various threads, a free standing magnifying glass, a pack of bits of fur and feathers they use to make the flies plus a book and DVD on how to do it.

“This must have cost you a fortune,” he said looking like a boy in a toyshop.

I shrugged, admitting nothing.

“I’ve always wanted to tie my own flies,” he said nearly in tears.

“Looks like you’ll get a chance then.”

“Thank you so much.” He stood alongside me and pulled me into a kiss. “Merry Christmas, wifey.”

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

He kissed me again. “I don’t know what to say–I’m speechless.”

“Don’t say anything.”

“I don’t deserve it, I really don’t.”

“Simon, a few years ago when I was doubting everything about myself you, having come to terms with my unusual route to womanhood, supported me through thick and thin. You’ve continued to do so. You’ve given me material things, like the bike workshop and one of the bikes, you’ve given me cars and more importantly, you’ve given me your heart. This, my darling, is payback.”

“Christ, Cathy. I don’t know what to say except I love you.”

“Don’t say anything, just kiss me.”