(aka Bike) Part 1344 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad
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“Who was that?” asked Si.
“Some journalist woman who wants to interview me about raising the dead.”
“You’ve haven’t been emptying the graveyards again, have you? I thought you’d promised me you stop it.”
“Nah, it wasn’t me, it was Trish, with her Dr Dee magician’s set.”
“Hey you,” Trish came running up to me, “I haven’t done anything–Mummy’s telling fibs.”
“See, even the children don’t believe you.”
“And I suppose ever since you said you knew Father Christmas, they’re going to believe you, are they?”
“No, I said I’d met one of his reindeer, not the old man himself.”
“The only reindeer you’re likely to have met would be on a Christmas card.”
“They had some at Santa’s grotto once when I was about fifteen.”
“You went to Santa’s grotto when you were fifteen?” I asked in astonishment.
“Yes, we went to embarrass the old guy who was playing Santa–unfortunately, they had two security blokes dressed as elves to deal with such eventualities and they threw us out after we’d paid our fifty pence–and we didn’t get a present either.”
“Aw, diddums.”
Just then the doorbell rang. I glanced at my watch–who the hell was that? Simon seeing my anxious response went to the door. He spoke for a couple of minutes and then shut the door. He handed me a business card.
I glanced at it although I knew what was written on there, it was Laura Lawrence.
“So now she knows where I live,” I sighed.
“Was that a secret?” asked Simon.
“Well not everyone knew it before–still I suppose these people have grapevines...”
“Yes, babes, it’s called twitter–I presume because it’s for twits.”
“Twatter, did you say?”
“No, but I will.”
“All I need now is to be stalked by some idiot journalist.”
“If she’s stalking you, you can take legal measures against her–on the other hand you could take out an injunction or a super injunction.”
“What’s a super injunction?” I suspect I might have heard about them on the radio but I didn’t know what they were.
“It’s an injunction where the subject is unable to even talk about there being an injunction. Anyone who breaks it risks contempt of court.”
“Ooh, get me a pound of those then.”
“The alternative would be to either call a press conference or talk to a journalist you trust.”
“Like Des?”
“If you can talk to him, I will be impressed.”
“I meant like he was before he died.”
“Oh that, yeah, he was a pretty honest operator–especially if you were pretty and female.”
“Well when I met him at first, I think I failed on both counts.”
“I’m not giving you any sympathy for self-pity or deliberate self-effacement/ deprecation. You are female and beautiful–that is final–okay?”
“Hang on, I’m entitled to my own opinion–which being female–you just said I was–is different to yours.”
“You’re entitled to have opinions, it’s expressing them that is the problem.”
“I thought you were an egalitarian.”
“I am–as long as it’s me getting even, not t’other way round.”
“Equal–not even–you nit.”
“Equal and even mean the same.”
“In some contexts but not the one you’re arguing.”
“Cathy, now who is arguing convenience before logic?”
“Me, I do it all the time.”
“Socrates would be upset.”
“He’s been dead for some time.”
“You didn’t manage to speak to him then?”
“Don’t be silly, Simon–he’s been dead for hundreds of years.”
“That doesn’t usually stop you.”
“That is a calumny, Simon Cameron.”
“I thought you got those on your feet when you wore tight shoes.”
“That’s callus you nit.”
“I thought I was being quite sensitive,” Simon shrugged.
“Grrr, “
He looked smug as he laughed at me.
“So what did you tell this woman?” I waved the card.
“I said you were in the cemetery exhuming bodies so you could do your own version of Shawn the Sheep.”
“I think you might mean, Sean of the Dead?”
“Might I? Yeah, maybe.”
“Seriously, what did you say?”
“I told her to stop bothering you.”
“Oh–I don’t think it will work.”
He glanced out of the window and followed my gaze. At the end of the drive were several people milling about, some with cameras. “Hmm–you could be right. Okay, what’s plan B?”
“Plan B? I didn’t even have a plan A.”
“That’s women for you.”
“What is?”
“No plan A, B or C.”
“Who said anything about C?”
“You have a plan C?” he asked his eyes widening.
“No.”
“Oh–so do I just wander out there waving a shotgun?”
“Only if you want to be photographed and it used in court against you.”
“Not especially–unless it’s a particularly flattering photo.”
“Vanity–thy name is Simon.”
“Fair–enough,” he said emphasising the fair.
I groaned–“This isn’t funny–neither are your jokes by the way–so what do we do?”
“Starve them out.”
“What like a siege?” I asked.
“Absolutely.”
“Si–it’s them who would be besieging us–we’d be the ones to starve.”
“I never was much good at history.”
“What if I went and spoke to them?”
“They’d have something to write about, but it is likely to be misquoted and misconstrued.”
“There’s someone else coming up the drive,” I noted.
The man rang the doorbell. Simon answered it, I stood just to the side of the door so I could hear what was said without him seeing me.
“May I speak with Lady Cameron?”
“What about?”
“I’d prefer to say that to the good lady.”
“Sorry–she’s unavailable.”
I suddenly had a feeling that this man was desperately ill. It was a set up–he had lung cancer-I suppose if he got better after meeting me, they’d have circumstantial evidence. I wanted to help him but I knew that if I did, I’d be outted to the world. I felt on the horns of a dilemma. I let the energy decide for itself. I stepped forward.
“Lady Cameron?”
“Yes, who are you?”
“I’m Hugh Weston.”
“How can I help, Mr Weston?”
“May I come in?”
“I don’t know–why should I let you?”
“I thought you people would know.”
“Know what?”
“Your powers aren’t as good as I thought.” He looked breathless and began to puff a little. He used an inhaler.
“You have chest problems.”
“I could see that, Cathy,” offered Simon and I wasn’t sure how that might be construed.
“Yes, I have chest problems–I wondered if I might prevail upon you to help me–the doctors can’t.”
“Sorry, I’m not a physician–I’m a scientist.”
“Yes, we all know–you tame dormice for a living, except the one who ran down your jumper.”
“Blouse actually.”
“Whatever.”
“Attention to detail is important in observational science.”
“And yet you didn’t know what was wrong with me?”
“Why should I, I’ve never met you before.”
“The reputation you have–I thought you might.”
“What reputation?” I asked knowing exactly what he meant.
“That you cure people just by talking to them.”
“I don’t–but Professor Charcot did–he was a neurologist at the turn of the last century–trained Freud–specialised in psychosomatic conditions which they used to term hysterical ones in those days.”
“So you won’t help me?”
“I can’t–I told you before, I’m not a physician.”
“Okay, mate, sorry but I’m gonna close this door.” Simon shut the door in the man’s face. We walked into the kitchen. “What’s his problem?”
“He’s got terminal carcinoma of the lung.”
“Could you have helped?”
“I don’t know–I left it up to the energy to decide if it wanted to–I didn’t feel anything moving–so I suspect it didn’t.”
“That’s pretty cynical using a dying man.”
“Now you see what we’re up against.”
“Very clearly,” he said and walked off with the phone in his hand.
Comments
Thank you Angha,
ALISON
'the journalistic whores strike again! They have the morals of alley cats.
ALISON
Well, really!
You shouldn't say such horrible things about alley cats, they have much better morals than journalists.
Here we go again...
No doubt Simon's calling Henry.
"Hi dad, we're being besieged by journalists... again!"
Cue the inevitable decamp to Southsea. Perhaps Cathy could make a phone call... to Jim. Maybe he'd know a strategy for getting rid of a bunch of nosey reporters. Or know the whereabouts of a couple of minibuses with tinted windows to engineer the escape. Why several? The standard strategy for getting rid of a tail - start off in one, lose the tail, then at a prearranged destination transfer everyone into a second while the original continues roaming around as a decoy.
Alternatively, try ringing the hospital and see if Ken Nicholls or Sam Rose are off duty, and could help plant stories of mystery healing in other regions of the UK (perhaps with a little help from Trish to ensure the fake stories are seeded in numerous places across the 'net).
All we need now is for our friends from the Russian Mafia to turn up again...
There are 10 kinds of people in the world - those who understand binary and those who don't...
As the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, then only left-handers are in their right mind!
Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 1344
Don't insult alley cats! Angharad feeds two cats.
May Your Light Forever Shine
May Your Light Forever Shine
Zotz
Walter Karig wrote a novel in 1947 called Zotz. There was a movie made later. It had a good cast but wasn't true to the book. I read the book when I was around 13 years old, and the satire was lost on me. It probably would be today, too. The protagonist attains the power to kill. If he points his finger at an animal, it faints. If he says "Zotz', the animal dies (people, too). Of course the government is interested. He refuses to use his power, and becomes a pest control exterminator.
Cathy is faced with the same problem. Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Fortunately, Cathy is very strong. I doubt if she will be corrupted, but she will continue to be tested and pursued. Hopefully, the entities that gave her this power in the first place will give her the means to use it without it burying her in the end. Maybe she and the girls will be able to use it in very special cases without its use being so visible.
I knew this was a horrible dilema when the power first showed, and my opinion hasn't changed. What she has is a terrible cross to bear. The guilt of choice will be terrible. It might kill her. She said the power chose not to cure the cancer victim. I wonder about that; however, is she going to be forced to live with the onus of wondering if it was her subconscious acting in not applying the power? Cathy is no saint, and I think that her miracles leading to her sainthood are the last thing she would want. Of course, only Catholics can become saints. So, maybe that option is out. Still, this power is almost a punishment rather than a blessing.
Portia
Portia
Death, none of us escape it.
I am not sure it makes much difference if she heals or not. We all travel the same path eventually. I love this tale because it is fun. For me, death can not happen fast enough.
Did any of you ever see
Did any of you ever see "Jesus Christ: Superstar?" It was the usual bullcrp telling of the myth of christ, but did include a segment where he was being besieged by the ill wanting to be cured. It was almost as if when he cured, something left him and he would finally become exhausted, and he came to feel that his life was far from his own, and there were always more to be healed than he had the energy or time to do. That would be the dilemma facing Cathy if it became common knowledge about the blue light, and could affect Trish too. Cathy could also be endagnered by uscrupulous types, and if people knew Trish had some use of it, she could be in danger as well.
CaroL
CaroL
Sadly, the cancer guy sold himself out
... for far more then the price those scandal sheet artists had paid him. He sold his own life out for that pittance. I think the Blue Light has already made itself clear that it is the one who chooses who it heals. If it did not then Cathy would create an incredible swath of healing wherever she goes and it does so at the price of her life energy also though she is far better at it now, it is not without some cost.
I love this episode; the situation with that poor sod who thought he might be able to get healed as well as get a payday at the same time. Poor stupid sod.
Kim
Simon's Power
Perhaps Simon should use his power to make the loans of the press swarm disappear.
Also I was wondering if the dying man might have been recording the conversation at the door.
Michelle B
It was bound...
It was bound to happen... What amazes me is how you managed to hold off on having the vultures circle this long. (Yes, vultures WILL kill live animals, if they can't find anything dead. They take the dead, cause they're lazy. Or so I've been told...)
Interesting conversations this time around. Trouble abounds.
Thanks,
Anne
Vultures
Vultures eat dead/decaying meat because their digestive systems have evolved to the point that fresh meat is difficult to digest. Although frequently classified as raptors (hawks, eagles, etc.), they evolved through a different evolutionary line and their claws cannot grasp like true raptors can. I am using North American nomenclature. The naming scheme, not the evolutionary, is a bit different in the Old World. Although frequently called buzzards, North American (turkey, black, etc.) vultures are not buzzards. Buzzards are an old world bird, and I believe may be true raptors. I'll have to look that up.
It is known that vultures out of deference will not eat dead lawyers.
Portia
Portia
Buzzards
are true raptors, in the UK we have two - The common buzzard Buteo buteo and the rough legged Buteo lagopus, the latter is a scarce winter visitor, and a third whose name is Honey buzzard Pernis apivorous, but it's not actually a buzzard it's a hawk.
The 'Mericans can't tell the difference and call everything a hawk or a buzzard, usually if they aren't.
We frequently see common buzzards soaring on thermals around Dorchester - they are true raptors feeding on rabbits and small birds and animals. In winter they eat worms and it's nothing to see four or five of them looking for worms and other invertebrates in ploughed fields. It looks like a convention, but it's quite interesting to see the difference in plumage colours, they can vary quite a lot. They will readily eat carrion, and have frequently been poisoned that way by unscrupulous game-keepers at shoots.
Angharad
Angharad
More Vultures
We have quite a few in the Buteo genus over here. We call them hawks, and they are true raptors. We have several genera which includes eagles, broad tailed hawks, kites, Buteo, and falcons. They are all true raptors. What many Americans call buzzards (improperly) are really vultures, true carrion eaters. The condor is another species. The north American Condor has been making quite a recovery. It took capturing the remaining wild birds, and starting an extensive breeding program. I saw one in the wild a number of years before the capture program started. As far as american birds go, buzzard is an incorrect term when it is applied to vultures.
Portia
Portia
American vultures
The North American vultures (commonly called buzzards) are not closely related to the Old Word vultures or to the Old World buzzards, either. There's some discussion at to where they do fit though it's usually agreed that if you were to draw a relationship group (called a clade) around all of the Old World falcons, hawks, buzzards, vultures, eagles, kites, harriers, etc AND the storks and their close relatives, you would be including the New World vultures and condors. They are in there somewhere. :)
Americans do not use lots of European animal and vegetable words in the same way as they are used in the UK. In the UK, a buzzard is a hawk-type bird with a distinct flying pattern. We actually have such hawks in the US and call them various names such as chicken hawk, red tailed hawk, rough legged hawk, etc. We seldom call them buzzards, although buzzard hawk is one name.
American vultures (or vulturoids, they are very similar looking to the Old World vultures but differ greatly in detail), have a flight pattern that looks a bit like a buzzard, so they collected that name here in the US since real vultures are rare in England and the early colonists did not have that word ready to use. Besides, it's really no more accurate to call them vultures than to call them buzzards since they really aren't either one. One thing, unlike many birds, New World vultures have a keen sense of smell. Seems unfortunate, considering, but it is how they find dead carcasses whereas Old World vultures have to use sight.
And what Americans call an elk is really our local, rather larger, version of the red deer. What people in the UK call an elk, (or Anne Elk), is a moose in the US and Canada. Again, the early settlers did not have exact references and the language changed.
BTW, the American bald eagle is a piebald version of the European erne or sea eagle; in Greenland their ranges overlap and they may sometimes interbreed. Sea eagle species come in pairs all over the world, one piebald and one solid, it must be a conspiracy. :)
Hugs,
Erin
= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.
= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.
Anne Elk
"My theory..." (Sorry more Monty Python, which Erin knew very well when she mentioned it).
In Scotland, you need to distinguish between an elk and a moose. An elk's a bloody big deer thing they have in parts of Siberia and the US, and a moose, is a little thing with a long tail - further categorised as hoose moose, field moose, etc. If really poor, they're known as a kirk moose. They don't have a dormoose in Scotland.
Angharad
Angharad
We Get It All wrong Over Here
What you call a Deer, we call an Elk. What we call a Moose, you call an Elk. I think the Gershwin brothers wrote a song about it: "Let's Call the Whole Theing Off".
Portia
Portia
Gang Oft Agley
The best laid plans of which mooses, that is. :)
Hugs,
Erin
= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.
= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.
Buzzards
I have always considered 'buzzard' to be a slang term. It doesn't surprise me that it came from a real old world term. When people came across the pond, they used the words that they were used to. We have turkey vultures around here, but I often call them buzzards because I feel like it. ;-)
Very nasty trick
From the reporter. Liked cathy's "let the energy decide"
If it had been a kid
The trick would have worked.
Brilliant Banter
Thanks A+B: I really enjoy the dialogue you write for Cathy and Simon with its witty repartee and juvenile humour, and this was no exception.
Priceless Stuff
Bike Resources
Bike Resources
That is fighting dirty,
and the old man was desperate. Too bad he wasn't smart enough to see that he was being used.