Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 2727

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The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike, est. 2007)
Part 2727
by Angharad

Copyright© 2015 Angharad

  
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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.
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For Annie G who likes to read this in bed on a Sunday morning!

It was early afternoon before I got home where I made a sandwich while David continued making whatever it was he was doing for dinner. “What are you cooking?” I asked.

“Steak pie, why?”

“As I pay for it...”

“Repressive regime of capitalist patricians.”

“I’m not a catapult,” accused Trish walking in on the end of David’s pretend protest.

He looked at me as if to say, WTF? “What?” was all his mouth managed.

“You said I was a catapult Patricia.”

“No, I was talking to your ma, telling her she was a repressive capitalist patrician.”

“Her name’s Catherine not Patricia-Anne.”

It’s good to know that when in a hole, stop digging. David didn’t seem to realise he had more chance of winning an argument with the cat. I finished my sandwich and my drink and left them to it, neither one seemingly aware I was gone. I went to my study and looked again at the application that Diane Wheeler nee King had submitted.

I tried to think if I had met her and I couldn’t honestly remember. Why did it bother me so much? Not long ago I’d decided I was fireproof, now I wasn’t so sure. Oh why does this keep happening to me? It’s ridiculous—I’m a happily married woman with a houseful of kids—so how can anyone really accuse me of anything except over population? I had a photo of all of us together last Christmas, I think Pippa might have taken it, or more likely Henry. Simon and I, me holding Lizzie, him with Cate sat on his lap, Mima, Trish and Livvie sat cross legged in front of us, Julie, Phoebe, Sammi, Jacquie either side of Danielle, who’s standing in the middle behind us. If we do the same next year, we’ll have to include Hannah.

I had the same photo in my office as in my study at home, whenever I felt a bit down I’d take a long look at it and realise that all of the smiling faces there, loved me and to some extent relied upon me to look after them—even the grown up ones.

I have another photo with Stella and her two on it as well, as are Tom, Henry and Monica. Sometimes it’s good to know you’re part of something bigger than you. I have good relations with all of them, which I’m really glad about.

Instead of working as I’d planned, I looked at the photos on the wall. Each one of my family had an individual picture including Billie. I needed to get one of Hannah to put up there as well. I had one of my parents, which was a few years old. I missed them like mad. A girl misses her mum for advice or opinions on so many things. I missed her very much, and talked to her photo often. I spoke to my dad as well, hoping that I wasn’t part of the cause of his stroke.

My adopted father, Tom, I had a lovely picture of him, that was a few years old too. He was trying to explain something to one of my kids, so was unaware the photo was being taken. He’s such a kindly old chap and loves having my children as his grandchildren as much as they love having him there as their live in grandparent. I’ve known all of them ask his advice even when they weren’t sure he’d say what they wanted to hear. All the same, they’d respect what he said because of his huge experience of life compared to theirs. I try to foster that respect, though I’m probably the least accepting of Daddy’s advice of the whole bunch. Even Simon is better than I am of listening, to Daddy anyway. Perhaps I’m just perverse but I don’t like authority figures, always feel I’ve got to be in control myself—obviously some neurotic need in me.

“Oh, you’re in here?” Stella walked in to my study disturbing my reverie. “What’s this?” she asked picking up Diane Wheeler’s application form. She glanced through it. “She grew up in Bristol—didn’t you go the same school as her?”

“Yes,” I didn’t particularly want to discuss it.

“So you know her?”

“I don’t know, more chance she knows me.”

“From your films?”

“Possibly, but she might possibly remember me as the boy who wore dresses sometimes to the boys’ school.”

“So, is that a problem?”

“I don’t know.”

“Seeing as she’s the secretary and you’re her employer, aren’t you supposed to be the one in charge here?”

“That’s the theory.”

“Well make it so. Tie her up in contracts.”

“We have generic contracts.”

“Isn’t divulging personal information an offence.”

“Depends upon the information and whether it was deliberate or not.”

“Mightn’t do any harm to remind her of it.”

“I could I suppose.”

“Right that’s sorted, now what about this supposed badger cull in Dorset.”

“It’s stupid, it didn’t work before so why should it do so now?”

“You’re the expert, so how come they had twit of a farmer in favour of it—there’s a surprise—and some woman from the Zoological Society of London, how come it wasn’t you?”

“I’m not an expert on badgers.”

“But you are someone who studies mammals.”

“Dormice, if you remember correctly, and they only thing they have in common is being nocturnal.”

“Apparently the edible dormouse is spreading fast from Tring.”

“Not surprised, that was Rothschild.”

“Getting into people’s homes and causing problems.”

“It’s not new, so why the resurrection now?”

“Don’t ask me, perhaps they’ll be the next item on the cull list.”

“Could be.”

“According to the article I read they’re selling loads of traps for them—live ones—does that mean they electrocute them?”

“No, the exact opposite, it means they catch them alive.”

“And then cull them?”

“Think you need a permit to do that.”

“They look kina cute.”

“Until it’s your wiring they’ve chewed through.”

“Oh don’t.”

So I didn’t.

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Comments

Women with low self image

For a bit there I was thinking that Cathy would do well as a Muslimah. It is the opinion of some Psychologists that women with low self esteem are the ones that convert. If their ego is not suffering when they convert, it will when they've been at it a while.

A

After all these years and her

After all these years and her life as a wife, mother, noted Biologist, Assistant Professor, Title, and her position at the Bank, plus her other esteemed positions; I would hope Cathy had gotten over her belittling of her self and her self doubts. She just doesn't need the baggage she places on herself. This is what Tom, Simon, Stella, all her children and others who know her keep telling her. All she needs to do is LISTEN.

A lovely episode

I thought everybody read 'bike' on a Sunday morning. I just read a week's worth, that's all.
Anyway, Cathy now realises how much she is loved and loving in return. As long as she remembers that there is no need to ' sweat' the small stuff.
Great writing as usual Angharad.
Love to all
Annie G.

I have yet to meet

A transgendered person who is secure. Cathy has every reason to have an enormous ego, but she is much like the rest of us (transgirls). It is one of the reasons I enjoy the series so much. Superwoman with an inferiority complex.

Cathy has a lot of friends and friendly acquaintances. She also has a long list of enemies, enough so that Angharad has material in the wings for life. It is both odd and sad how our existence can threaten some people, when all we want is to be let be.

Well,

I'm finally caught up! And some miracles have happened!

This time a week and a half ago, they were talking putting me into a hospice and now they're using the word rehab...

I don't hold out my name for long term cures, but wow!

Best of wishes to all.