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(aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2703 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.
Normally when I’m working, Friday morning seems a nice day—it’s the day before Saturday and the weekend. In the school holidays, it seems like most other days except there is still something special about Saturdays, though quite what, I’m not sure. It’s probably still the same excitement I used to feel as a schoolchild myself when the weekend approached, although home could be a place of unhappiness. I’d be reminded of my incompleteness by all my mother’s things lying about the place. I’d have to give her hand cleaning the place or helping my dad do the garden or wash the car. If I helped with the chores I got some pocket money, if I didn’t help I got very little, unless I was ill or very close to exams, then I’d be excused duties.
It got me into the habit of expecting to work, to do my share. Why should your mother do everything in the house or your dad the garden or the garage? We should all help if we enjoy the advantages of being in a household, it did me no harm and taught me indirectly how to do things in both home and garden. My parents were great on practical skills. However, Dad did sometimes query the advisability of me learning women’s chores—he was so determined to make a man of me.
I recalled a conversation between my parents which I presume they didn’t realise I could hear. My dad was complaining that he didn’t think I needed to know how to sew as much as she was teaching me. “So, if anything happens to me, you’ll be able to sort out any damaged hems or split seams, will you?”
“You know I won’t be able to,” protested my dad.
“So it’s an advantage that Charlie does then, isn’t it? If I was ill or away, he’d be able to stand in for me, wouldn’t he?”
“Why wouldn’t it wait for you to come home?”
“Charlie has two pairs of school trousers, if the hem came down, he’d only have one pair, any mishap and he’d be trouserless for school, then what would you do?”
“Buy him some more I suppose.”
“You know how boys grow and how we agreed we wouldn’t get him more than two pairs of school trousers per term.”
“But it makes him look such a sissy, how many boys his age can sew as proficiently as he does?”
“When he goes to university, he’ll be pretty self sufficient in doing his own running repairs. You don’t complain about him being able to fix a puncture faster than you can.”
“That’s different...”
“How is it? It’s just him doing necessary repairs. I don’t want him wearing trousers to university with the hems hanging down or being too long. He’ll be able to alter or repair them and it’ll mean he can concentrate on his studies instead of trying to con some girl into doing it for him.”
“More likely she’ll con him into fixing hers, big sissy.”
“Being self sufficient does not equate with being effeminate. I could always teach you instead, Derek.”
“No, that won’t be necessary, you teach Charlie home craft skills if you wish.” I remembered smirking when she called his bluff as I was now. She always did it if she wanted to out manoeuvre him and his rigid views of gender roles made him quite vulnerable to her challenges. It was sad really, because he was actually quite a decent bloke except for his trans or homophobia, which twenty years ago was much more prevalent and acceptable. It isn’t now, which to some extent is due to those who’ve pushed back the boundaries in society and also due to the softening of the official line on minority groups.
Having said that I could almost feel the hidings I got when I pushed his buttons, especially as a teenager. But it’s what teens do, they experiment by challenging boundaries. The skill in parenting is allowing them to do so and stay safe, without being pulled into the game, because that’s what it is, a game. The risks of not playing the game is you don’t always quite know what stupid things they get inveigled into by their peers—and some of them are pretty stupid, like tombstoning or planking.
Because I didn’t hang around in a gang of boys I was saved the stupid thing of the day in those days, most of which involved risking life or limb usually to impress some girl or other. The most dangerous thing I did was to get even more girly when Murray and even my dad tried to embarrass it out of me. Growing my hair, wearing it up in a high ponytail, wearing nail varnish or makeup when instructed to wear a skirt; all of them were high stakes games and could have rebounded against me, instead it gave me courage to out bluff them.
Teenage boys are driven by testosterone, especially when trying to impress girls and it causes them to become increasingly reckless in their behaviour, which they apparently can’t seem to stop. Being somewhat unresponsive to testosterone, I was at least spared that element of recklessness, though some might consider I’ve made up for it since in some of the things I’ve done. I would argue most of them have been in defence of loved ones, especially my children or Simon.
I was astonished to learn that England had won another test match against Australia. If Simon is seen walking round with a big smug grin then I’ll know he’s taken money off his Australian colleague again.
The other item in the news of some American dental surgeon shooting a protected lion is more alarming. Why these people have got to kill things is beyond me, I suppose it shows what sort of a man he is—a total arsehole. The poor animal took forty hours to die, I’ll leave you to judge him yourselves, I know what I feel and it sure isn’t friendly.
“So are we going for a ride, Mummy?” asked Portsmouth’s answer to Marianne Vos.
“Where’s Danielle?” I asked.
“Oh she went out hours ago.”
“To see Cindy, I suppose?”
“Dunno, do I?” Trish shrugged, “But me an’ Han are ready to go when you are.”
“Okay, better go and get changed then...” before I could finish the sentence there was a flurry and a stampede up the stairs, looks like we’re going riding.
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Comments
In my family when growing up,
In my family when growing up, and which I and my siblings have continued in our own; is the requirement that all children, girls and boys will know how to cook, clean, sew, and have a basic knowledge about cars and their repairs.
It has NOTHING to do with gender and every thing to do will with basic living skills once out and living on their own.
Any parent, in my view, who does not teach these life skills to their children as they grow up, "hamstrings" that child to be able to function out and about on their own.
I knew people who could not even boil water without burning it.
To actually believe, as Cathy's dad did, that you can simply rely on someone else to do it all is beyond dumb. Yet I do acknowledge that it is done everyday. Too sad indeed.
Trish's comment regarding not knowing where Danielle might be really bothers me, with all the various issues and problems that have occurred to the family over the years.
Cathy should impose a strict rule that no-one leaves the home without letting someone know where they are going and when they might be back. Does help to track a person down if needed.
Just my opinion for what it is worth.
Bows and arrows at dawn
As the hunting dentist was using a bow will we see Cathy challenge him to a duel in the good name of archery?
Rhona McCloud
In many ways Cathy is lucky,
She is beautiful and definitely a woman to everyone she meets. Most of us are lucky to just get by.
I'm doing so much better, it is easy to forget my life before. Odd, isn't it.
Now why
How why would the sound of stampede going upstairs LOOK like one were going on a bicycle when one can't see said stampede? :-) *knowing said sound* *knowing previous query* "It's quite likely ma'am, there was no need to call baker street to deduce the outcome of that serious chain of events was it?: No, of course now, now why were we consulted, said a man who greatly resembled Robert Downy Junior... But, that's another story.
Thanks,
Annette
As a Sherlock Holmes fan
from my early teens, I can say that the two films starring Robert Downy Jnr, were a travesty and a load of Hollywood bunk. The one with Ian McKellen playing the ageing detective was much more in keeping with the original stories.
Angharad
As to the individual I chose to reference in the note....
I picked him as more widely known than many (not wanting to use Rathbone's name, or Cumberbach or Miller's from current TVs or the the much lesser know) or even the less known others who a have played the part over the years I've yet to see Gandalf/Magento's version. I figured Downey's would be quite memorable and have a character that would comment in that way. The best choice? Probably not, but a workable one. Besides, you never know, some day Cathy might need help from one of his colleages like Thor or the Black widdow (she might share some hand bows with cathy).
As i may have mentioned
before my views on the unnecessary killing of animals coincides very much with Cathy's, Anyone who can get any sort of pleasure from that is a very sad person indeed , It was mentioned yesterday on the radio that Zimbabwe want to extradite the man concerned from America to face trial in their country , Whilst i doubt that will ever happen ( Zimbabwe's record of human rights is virtually non-existent ) it does show the depth of feeling felt around the world at his action, If it helps stop further killings then maybe Cecil's death will not have been in vain...
It did seem strange to see Cathy talked about by her parents with male pronouns , If only they could have foreseen the future they could have saved both themselves and Cathy a whole lot of heartache , But then maybe Cathy would never have met Simon .... And that would never do , Would it !
Kirri