The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1225 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I slept wonderfully after Simon gave me a rub down, much to his annoyance, his kneading fulfilled my needs, but left him needing. It’s good for him–I keep telling him that delayed gratification is so much better than its instant variety but he argues that being a bourgeois I’m unable to understand his patrician right to be gratified all the time. I told him he was a spoiled brat, and he replied, that I was beginning to understand at last.

One of these days he’ll talk with his tongue in his cheek and bite it-serve him right. The upshot was, I made him delay his gratification even longer–hee hee. Like I said, it’s character building. I’ve read in stories, usually poorly crafted porn or soft porn, about blue balls, when I was the ungrateful possessor of said spherical objects, the only time I was aware of mine being blue was after my dad beat me up that time and once coming off the saddle of a bike and onto the crossbar. A pedal broke off and I lurched forward. Needless to say, I came off and the bike landed on top of me making the injury a two impact event. Dunno about blue–purple and green and black was the colour scheme for a few days. I was eleven or twelve at the time and I suppose it might explain why my voice never broke, I didn’t get zits or facial fur–nor muscles. At seventeen, when I took my A-levels I was a five foot six bean pole with hips.

By twenty two or three, I was an inch taller and my hips were two inches wider. I wore girl’s jeans–plain ones–because they fit better but also because I was already convinced of what I really was and puberty happened when I started the oestrogens, just after I’d started my master’s degree. No wonder no one really wanted to be near me–a bloke with PMT.

Of course these days my mood swings are pretty static–I’m probably the most calm and even tempered person on the planet. Hang on a second, I am going to murder those girls if they hit the wall with that ball one more time. Who the hell gave them a basket ball anyway?

Oh I remember now, Si got it for Danny and Maureen will put up a basket for him on the side of one of the garages. Personally, I hate the sight of them, especially when they get all tatty. Perhaps I just don’t like basketball–it’s a game for tall people and I’m not very tall, and every time I see one of those basket things it reminds me of my failure in school to be any good at it or most other sports except longer distance running, where my smaller size gave me advantage over the heavier boys.

How can they be playing basket ball–It’s all snow and ice outside? I pulled on a coat and went to investigate–the bump bump of the ball against the wall was driving me nuts.

They were just throwing the ball against the wall and catching it, the louder bumps were caused by Danny and the quieter ones by the girls. “Can we stop that now, wait until the basket is up and you can shoot some hoops–I think that’s what they call it. In this snow and ice someone is going to have an accident.”

“We haven’t so far, Mummy” challenged Danny.

“I don’t care young man, this stuff is lethal.”

“You’ve only got your slippers on, Mummy,” Trish advised me.

“Well I’m going back in now, so I suggest you do the same–it’s bitterly cold, despite the sunshine.”

“Can you take us out in the new car, Mummy? That’s got four wheel drive, so it should be alright.”

“Um–it isn’t, I got stuck last night and had to dig myself out, which reminds me, I must get the folding spade." I crunched my way over to the garage and half way there my feet shot from under me and I landed flat on my back knocking all the wind out of myself.

I lay there for a moment with hoofbeats sounding as various voices wailed, “Mummy.” Danny shouted, “Get Daddy an’ quick.”

“Are you alright, Mummy?” asked Trish kneeling down beside me.

I was still seeing stars, and felt unable to answer her. Then I heard Mima ask, “Why’s da snow aww wed?”

“Mummy, stay still, you’ve cut your head by the look of it.”

“Okay, leave her there–here, babes, I felt him throwing a coat over me. Oh, shit there’s blood–get Auntie Stella.”

“I’ll be alright,” I said at last, my head really was spinning and beginning to pound.

I heard Stella’s voice and more coats being put over me, it was starting to get very cold and I could feel myself shivering. The ache in my head was now causing flashing lights when I tried to focus my eyes on anything.

“Yeah, head injury quite a bit of bleeding–don’t go to sleep, Cathy–hang on–Cathy, can you hear me? Cathy–oh, shit she’s going out–yeah get here quick–I don’t give a shit, scramble a chopper if necessary–look I’m a registered nurse and she’s in real trouble and I have a mean lawyer. Oh good, yeah they can land in the field opposite, okay. Pulse is racing and weak–please hurry.”

I don’t know if she said anything after that because I stopped listening. I was floating in an ocean of something. It wasn’t water because I seemed able to breathe and there was this amazing music–I couldn’t identify it but it seemed strangely familiar. The pain in my head had stopped, in fact I couldn’t feel my body at all–it was like I was floating–bathed in this beautiful music and the colours that surrounded me were kaleidoscopic. It was as I’d imagine a good trip would be on one of those hallucinogenic drugs or magic mushrooms.

I was almost aware of things around me back home–if I really listened, I could almost hear things–like a big noise of a tractor–maybe Simon had got me a tractor. I wanted to laugh, but that would have been rude–he does his best the poor chap and I do love him.

I felt as if I was floating so high now that I could be a hazard to aircraft–I was surprised that didn’t feel cold–I didn’t feel anything, just the wonderful colours, like floating in rainbow–I wondered if that was what I was doing and the music–ethereal, that’s the word.

I felt so safe floating that I closed my eyes and thought I’d have a little sleep–floating was harder work than I thought and I suddenly felt so tired, so very, very tired. I hope Si can watch the children for a bit–just for a bit–so, so tired.