The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1599 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

We arrived home with a large bag of fish and chips, and me with a complex about ever going there again. I hadn’t felt as embarrassed since Murray called me out in front of the whole school, addressing me as Miss Watts. I couldn’t even remember what I’d done wrong that time–it didn’t take much such was his homophobia although to me the ironic thing was that I wasn't homosexual, I was female.

I got similar treatment after the play, yeah the Scottish one, I was still dressed in the girl’s uniform, mainly because it pissed him off, but also I enjoyed wearing it. He called me out again as Miss Watts and I was told to face the school.

“Much as I disapprove of your sexuality MissWatts, I saw the play last night and I was impressed by your skills as an actress. It also appears the local paper was equally impressed, because they have written at length of your performance.

“Normally, behaviour like yours, is seen as anarchic and anti-authority and brings this establishment into disrepute. Last night it appears that you redeemed some of that and brought some respect to the school from the press.

“They seem to think you were a normal female, although we all know otherwise. In the interests of the reputation of this school, it appears you had better continue wearing the girl’s uniform until we consider it appropriate to stop. Naturally, Miss Watts will be accorded every respect shown to members of the fairer sex,” he warned the rest of the school.

The school laughed and whistled, he’d turned triumph into disaster–instead of saying nothing, he had to build me up and then drop me. He could have told me this in private. I suppose he did have a message for the rest of the school to stop bullying me–at least while I was doing the play. If I came to harm before it ended then it would be embarrassing–they didn’t have a replacement for me, and I couldn’t see many volunteering to understudy me. Of course they could have used one of the girls from next door, but then they’d have to accept they couldn’t do everything themselves, the woman attendant was played by one of the teachers–a female one.

I ceased my revery as we turned into the driveway and I parked the car alongside Tom’s Land Rover. I decided I’d say nothing about the incident at the chippy and hoped that Trish would do the same.

Julie and Catherine were sitting at the table, well, Catherine was in her high chair, and Fiona was opposite in her one. They were like two tennis umpires both of them squawking as soon as they saw me appear with the food. Normally, I’d have salt and vinegar put on mine, but because the little ones were having a bit, I declined the offer of the condiments.

Stella passed me a warmed plate and I placed the wrapped cod and chips on it and passed it to the table. Trish and Livvie shared a portion, and Mima and the three little ones shared hers. Catherine grabbed a chip and chewed on it squealing as she did, which set off the other umpire. I think we regained control at deuce.

I was about half way through mine and struggling, and Danny had finished and was drinking his cola. He must have just shovelled it down. I stopped, overwhelmed at the amount before me–I couldn’t comfortably eat any more.

“You want some more, Danny?” I asked and he nodded, he pretty well emptied my plate as well. Okay, so he was playing football two or three times a week, but even when I was that age I couldn’t remember eating half that amount–I’d have been sick.

“We did have a couple of real gluttons at school, one of whom uncannily resembled Billy Bunter, in fact they used to call him Bunter. I remember one break time seeing him demolish two fruit pies and couple of buns before eating a chocolate bar. I felt ill watching him and didn’t eat the packet of crisps I’d taken with me.

I wonder what happened to him? At the rate he was going he’d be in coronary care by now, or the diabetes clinic. Sometimes I did think about looking on those reunion sites to see if anyone showed up–not that I’d want to go there. I’d met one or two of my ex-contemporaries and hadn’t really like any of them, even. Caroline, or whatever she was calling herself now, hadn’t really resonated with me.

Perhaps I was the problem–I hadn’t made many friends in school or university until I’d come here and transitioned. It seemed the defensiveness I’d shown, possibly seen as an aloofness, which kept people away from me relaxed when I came to Portsmouth. My return to Sussex to do the talk showed that some had coped with my change over. I didn’t think I was too interested in my old school to be bothered enough to find out what they thought. They should have known though, as it had been on television and in the press. I’d moved, on so they were irrelevant in my life.

“A penny for them, Mummy,” Julie next to whom I was sitting disturbed my daydream.

“Oh, it’s nothing, darling.”

“You seemed to be scowling at something.”

“Was I? Okay, I was thinking about some of my schooldays.”

“Oh do tell us, Mummy,” she replied and the terrible twins agreed. Danny in comparison, asked to leave the table. He was tired of my reminiscences or appeared to be.

“C’mon, Mummy, tell us about when you played Lady Macbeth,” called Trish, and I was about to start when the phone rang and they all groaned. It was Stephanie. She was cancelling her regular appointment with Trish because she was going into hospital for a caesarean section next week.

“Oh dear, not problems, I hope?” I commented.

“Yeah, looks like breech, so in I go and out she’ll pop.”

“Anything I can do?”

“Not unless you can see a couple of dozen patients for me while I’m on maternity leave.”

“I meant personally, as you well knew.”

“Nah, I don’t do girl on girl, and besides I’m too fat–can’t see my toes. Oh, how is Julie?”

“Would you like to speak to her?”

“No it’s okay, is she well?”

“I think so, she’s grumbling about dilating.”

She chuckled, “So you failed in your maternal duties and didn’t warn her?”

“If I had she’d have changed her mind.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Imagine having somewhere which is possibly a little numb but also tender and tight, and then imagine shoving something which feels about the size of a twelve pounder shell in said place.”

“So why do you do it, if you know it’s going to hurt?”

“Why do women have babies? They know it’s going to hurt, yet some have several, forgetting the pain soon after because it’s a worthwhile result to have the baby. Dilating is a bit like that, for some it will always be painful or uncomfortable for all sorts of reasons. Some will find eventually when all the swelling has reduced and as normal sensation has returned as is going to, they can actually induce pleasure there or can with the help of an aid or a partner.”

“Are you in the latter category?” she asked.

“Thankfully, yes, I hope Julie is too.”

“Absolutely. Well, love to you all, I’ll be in touch some time.”

“Good luck with the Caesar.”

“Thank you–byeee.” She rang off and I returned to the table. I was able to divert attention from my schooldays by giving Stephanie’s news from which ensued a lively discussion.