Easy As Falling Off a Bike pt 3109

The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike, est. 2007)
Part 3109
by Angharad

Copyright© 2017 Angharad


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.

Cutting out a pattern with Cindy was more enjoyable than darning elbows in play jumpers or sewing on buttons. I have a gang of girls but with the damage they do to their clothes, it might have been easier with boys—it certainly couldn’t be any worse. Or could it? I had vague recollections of Danni as a boy coming home with holes in the knees of his trousers and me threatening to darn them with pink floral cloth or send him to school in skirts. Looks like the latter came to pass, but it isn’t her clothing that gets damaged, it’s usually the others.

Now that Trish, Livvie and Hannah have got to the ripe old age of twelve they tend to stand around at break times talking—probably about boys, clothes, makeup or last night’s telly. That is of course, assuming they are talking not texting each other or doing it through social media.

Everyone seems to have a facebook page these days except me. My department does and we have a dormouse one, as well. The girls all have one and I know Sammi does—though quite why, I’m not sure. I bet even MI5 do, spy for us via facebook—no thanks.

Cindy was chattering away as we worked, Danni was almost pensive as she did some work on her embroidery, Trish was finishing some homework so didn’t join us and Livvie was watching telly. Meems, who seems to have two left hands when it comes to sewing, did join us. She had a problem with the project she had in school and wanted some help.

Cindy cut out the material and began pinning it together while I helped Meems. She was making a bag, a shopping bag with a shoulder strap. Instead of a pattern they were given a plan with measurements written on it and she couldn’t seem to relate that to paper pattern. Seeing as Meems is fairly bright, I found that difficult to understand. However, I found some brown wrapping paper and once I drew it out for her using the measurements they gave us, she seemed to twig and went ahead cutting it out.

Shortly afterwards we then cut the cloth she’d chosen, it had a pattern with teddy bears over it and a background of pink—so she’s girly. So what? Then we cut the pattern down a fraction and pinned it on the lining material, which was a strong cotton in a calico colour, and cut that out. Finally for that evening, we pinned it all together, the two liners and the two outer covers. Next time we’d sew them or she could do that in school and cut out the top binding and decide what sort of handles she wanted on it. Providing they met the size of the plan, the handles could be of almost any material that was strong enough to bear a reasonable bag full of items. As she was quite good at plaiting I asked her if she fancied doing plaited handles, her eyes lit up and she asked me if I’d help her make them.

The next day was a school day and Brenda came to get Cindy about half past nine, I got Tom to put the girls to bed and yes, they still liked a story and he still liked to read them one, which meant I could have a chat with Brenda over a cuppa. Julie came to join me while Jacquie and Phoebe played some computer game together.

“I don’t know how you cope with all these girls, I have one and she nearly drives me nuts at times.”

“Ah but the advantage of having several is they distract or amuse each other to some extent, so while they’re killing each other, you only have the winners to sort out and you keep them busy burying their siblings’ bodies.”

For a moment she looked at me as if I was crazy. I am but I don’t advertise the fact. Then her mouth crinkled and she laughed. The two girls didn’t think it was at all funny, but then they do know I’m crazy.

I’d left Danielle and Cindy to clear up my study and put the sewing stuff away. I have a cupboard in there in which I keep my sewing boxes, my collection of buttons and threads, silks and material. They joined us in the kitchen as we finished our teas. Danni and Cindy hugged and then she and I saw Brenda and Cindy off. She went off to bed soon after.

“Why don’t you like facebook, Mummy?” asked Julie who was amending her salon page adding some photos of hairstyles she’d done.

“I just don’t.”

“But why, everyone else uses it?”

“I don’t want to. I have better things to do than spend hours using the equivalent of cyber masturbation.”

“You what?” she gasped then laughed so hard she fell off her chair, she was still laughing as she lay on the kitchen floor. I helped her up and ascertained she hadn’t hurt herself and she was still laughing.

Phoebe came to see what the noise was all about and when Julie repeated what I’d said they both fell about laughing with tears running down their faces. Tom came to see about the noise and when they told him, he just nodded in agreement and grunted something which none of us caught but I resumed it meant he was having his dram.

Jacquie came to wash her cup and Julie told her what I’d said and she chortled but agreed. “Wait until Danni hears it tomorrow,” said Julie loudly, “It’ll be all around the school by break time.” That did concern me but only because it could reflect on Danni or the other girls as having a weird mother. But thinking about it, social media is all about self indulgence, unless you’re selling something, and there is nothing more self indulgent than you know what. So my statement was based upon reasoning not just an off the cuff one liner.

Jacquie helped me lay up the table for breakfast, it was Saturday, a busy day for Julie and Phoebe who’d asked Danni and Cindy if they wanted to act as Saturday girls—the apprentice was off on sick leave. They decided they would for twenty quid each. Basically, this was sweeping up, making teas and coffees, washing the towels or occasionally shampooing hair—Danni had done that before, so I told her to take some hand cream with her.

It made me smile, both the elder girls went out at the same time to the same place and returned at the same time, yet each took their own car—I might want to do some shopping on the way home, or various other excuses were offered when I asked why they didn’t car share.

Danni would go with one of them and Brenda agreed to take Cindy to the salon for half past eight. Mind you at their age I’d have given my right arm to be a Saturday girl anywhere, instead I went out cycling with my dad or birdwatching with the RSPB Young Ornithologist’s Club and half of them thought I was a girl because of my long hair and relatively small size. Lots to do tomorrow, I said goodnight and went to bed.


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