Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 2595

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The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike, est. 2007)
Part 2595
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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I lay awake for some time while Simon snored and grunted his way into a deeper sleep, sometimes it sounded like I had a giant hedgehog under the bed. So, if I understood it correctly, Tom and Esmond Herbert wanted me to succeed Herbert as Professor of Biological Science at Sussex when he went off to America to run Harvard or some other Ivy League institution, presumably for a correspondingly large salary. Part of me feels like I’m being set up to become Herbert’s puppy, so he can still influence Sussex while five thousand miles away. If that’s the case he’s wasting his time, as Tom has found out with handing over the reins at Portsmouth. I do things my way or not at all.

It might not be terribly feminine but then I’m a feminist not necessarily a feminine one. I believe in equality between all groups and types of people while appreciating that someone has to take control at times to make things work. I suppose I’m one of those people—I’m also a control freak, which may come from needing to be in control as a child so I didn’t betray my gender, keeping it hidden inside what people assumed was a male skin. Then after meeting Stella I had the exact reverse problem of trying to avoid people seeing anything male inside my now rapidly feminising body. To minimise the risk of betraying myself, I tended to be in tight control of myself. It became a way of life and although I have no need to do it now, I probably still do it.

As a thirty something year old female, I’m not sure I want to be manipulated or manoeuvred into doing what someone else wants me to do. I know it happens all the time with advertisers but I try to minimise their influence if I spot it. I like to think I’m my own woman as well as being Simon’s wife, not that he tries to manipulate, he does full frontal attacks instead.

So with regard to this ’ere Sussex question, was I going to play ball and allow myself to appear to be manipulated, or was I going to make a stand. To start with, did I want to return to Sussex, I didn’t know. In fact, I wasn’t sure what I wanted other than watch my children grow up to be the best they could at whatever they did, while supporting Simon, as his wife. Finally, as a career woman, I wanted to do something which pleased me and preferably returned something to the greater community—how successful this has been would need to be verified by someone other than me.

If—and it’s a big if—what if I didn’t want Sussex? What if I felt it was too big for me? Or the politics too complex as is often the case with all sorts of factions vying for me to vote for them.

How could I not want my alma mater? Quite easily. I didn’t want all sorts of silly questions about the scruffy boy I appeared to be when an undergraduate then. It might well be a nine day wonder but could I really put the other’s through all of that, especially the children. Especially when I could remain as low profile as I wanted at Portsmouth, where I’m sure they’d forget about me unless I reminded them—the powers that be, not my children. Naturally, if I made any further films it would remind them. Part of me feels that I should concentrate on the university and my students not bouncing about in a miniskirt or shorts in front of a camera. Then Brian Cox does it—well not the miniskirt—and it doesn’t seem to hurt his reputation, possibly enhanced it. It also draws people into science who might otherwise not take an interest. I’m told my films do that, so as they might draw new students into science in general or biology in particular and possibly at my university, I’m helping the cause.

Would I be able to make films at Sussex? I don’t know—I might not have time so I’d need some help with people to delegate to. What about Billie’s woodland and the forest up in Scotland? They’re linked to Portsmouth not Sussex. This is assuming the Russians haven’t actually got us by the time we’re running courses and things there. Talking of the Slavic ones, I am heartily sick of the lot of them. I barely break cover from home or work nowadays, except to deliver or collect the girls. I haven’t ridden a bike for weeks. I wondered what would eventually happen there.

The more I thought about things, the more uncertain things became—is this an example of wotsisname’s uncertainty principle. In the end, I began to wonder if I was cracking up. Had Tom told me he and Herbert were trying to get me the chair of bio science at Sussex; or was it just a delusion?

I turned over and while I was thinking about solipsism I fell asleep, or assumed I did as I woke up. I thought I could hear a faint scratching noise but couldn’t determine where it was originating. I assumed it was the kitten trying to get in our room but on moving a leg I provoked a ‘purp’ noise from down the bed, the little monkey had crept into our room and curled up by my feet.

If it wasn’t her, who was it and where was it coming from. I decided it seemed to be coming from on or near one of the garages—was some pig trying to steal my bikes? I hoped not.

Creeping out of bed I pulled on my dressing gown and stole to the window. Sure enough I could see dark shadows moving about outside my bike store and workshops. It struck me that this wasn’t an outing from the WI who’d got lost in the dark, nor was it either of Chas or Dave as they’d have little need to enter the garage. Come to think of it, the two body guards didn’t seem to be in any capacity at all. Had they been neutralised? It all grew more frightening. I stole over to my wardrobe and cracked open the door enough to reach inside and draw out the bag in which I kept my compound bow and the box of arrows. Next I went into the bathroom and dialled 999 on my mobile and informed the police we were under attack.

When I checked the garage, there was nothing or anyone to be seen—were they inside or had they moved? Had I imagined it? A minute or two later the drive was illuminated by blue flashing lights from a police car. Had I imagined it all?

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Comments

In this case

I'd suggest that Cathy trust her instincts... And prepare for injured cops.

Uneven Ground

littlerocksilver's picture

I'm surprised that anyone can live in Cathy's neighbourhood with all those cliffs around. No wonder it's so dangerous.

Portia

Cathy's dilemmas

Rhona McCloud's picture

The impersonality of Sussex would be difficult for Cathy after having so many Portsmouth friends. On the other hand playing bows and arrows with the Russians seems right up her street as I doubt Ras has men trained in avoiding arrows though maybe it's not the Russians in the shed at all but Chas, Dave, MI5 and Mossad having a poker night

Rhona McCloud

Maximum level of incompetence

When I was working there was a saying going around that people were often promoted to their maximum level of incompetence. 50 mile drive, much larger responsibilities, her past coming up perhaps in a hurtful way. No thanks.

Gwen

It's called

Angharad's picture

the Peter Principle - promoting people to their level of incompetence. Governments tend to demonstrate it daily.

Angharad

Amen to that. Worked around

Amen to that. Worked around several over the years. Janice

I've been wondering....

D. Eden's picture

When the bow would reappear. It's a much more elegant weapon for Cathy than a handgun would have been. Not to mention the legalities of firearms in the UK.

It was nice to see this when I jumped online this morning, but then again, I am slightly addicted to my daily dose of your writing!

Dallas

D. Eden

Dum Vivimus, Vivamus

Uh Oh, someone is in really

Uh Oh, someone is in really big trouble, as Cathy has retrieved her trusty bow and arrows. Something tells me that the jerks around her house or in her garden shed area have not been informed of nor apparently introduced to her prowess with a bow. Apparently they will learn very soon about it and her skill using it. Janice Lynn