The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2787 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’d watched a programme on iPlayer, well Julie was watching it and I happened to watch over her shoulder. It was about some eighteen year old boy, Tyger somebody who was making a couple of films about sexuality. Of course it included someone who said they identified as a woman who’d previously been a gay male but who thought they’d want to keep their dangly bits.

That part of the film showed how unaware they were of the realities of transitioning, which isn’t just about wearing makeup and very high heels. They were also six foot two, which might cause a few problems—oh well, to each their own. I hope they appreciate if they take oestrogens, pulling on it won’t work—enough. Obviously I’m too old school.

Before that, Tyger went to see a couple who run sex parties and the women were as bad if not worse than the men for their horniness. They seemed to think they could do just as they wanted with whoever and whenever wherever. I’m all in favour of women’s right to choose, but this seemed like wantonness and I wondered how many of them would eventually need to visit the GUM clinic. It seemed like promiscuity to me and I’m not easily shocked—remember, I’ve seen mink at it.

Thinking about it, I suppose, he was right in that today’s adolescents have more choice about things than ever before in terms of their gender and sexuality, but to go at it like mink showed that some of them are being silly about it, like a kiddie in a sweetshop. I like to think as a suitably repressed adult, that I’ve made my choices but try to use them responsibly. I might be a trifle old fashioned, not being a swinger or whatever they call someone who’s prepared to have multiple partners of either sex or both at once, but it really doesn’t appeal—neither do the antibiotics or morning after pills which some will need.

It was one o’clock on a Saturday morning and I was sipping tea in the kitchen. I’d come down because I couldn’t sleep having got the hots for Simon who snored away oblivious to my needs. I’d tried lying there but I just felt so frustrated I almost went to look for my dilators but instead came and made some tea and read my book—the one about the origins of complex celled organisms. It’s still amazing how simple bacteria combined to form more complex ones and that the origins of chloroplasts in all green plants began as cyanobacteria which were taken into another bacterium and continued to function, photosynthesising in return for a supply of minerals or protection. Lichen are still a symbiosis of fungi and algae. I just wonder what the trigger was or was it just evolution trying out things? All I can say is if two bacteria hadn’t got together and coalesced, none of us would be here now.

Rinsing my cup I did go off to sleep and dreamt that Simon and I were making love when I became absorbed by him, like the cyanobacteria, then I decided I liked being protected by him, so it wasn’t so bad. I woke feeling his arm around me and his leg hooked over both of mine—I was being squashed and too hot, he was still fast asleep. Perhaps if I’d been around a couple of billion years ago, I wouldn’t have been as symbiotic as some other bacteria were. So thinking, I wriggled free and went for a wee. It was five o’clock and still dark.

When I returned, Simon was now sleeping diagonally across the bed, instead of trying to haul him back I pulled on my dressing gown and went downstairs with a pillow and a travel blanket and curled up on the settee in the lounge. I felt something climb on top of me and after ‘puddling’ me with her front paws, she curled up on top of me and we both fell asleep together.

I woke feeling a little disorientated before remembering where I was. Bramble had since left me so I assumed someone must be up and she was demanding her breakfast. She may not be very big but she has quite a loud squeak when the occasion demands it, such as mealtimes.

It was only seven but my bladder told me that extra cuppa had been processed and was ready for despatch. Staggering to the cloakroom I weed and went into the kitchen where Daddy was feeding the cat and the dog. The dog looked up and wagged her tail but then continued eating, while my erstwhile bedmate chose to completely ignore me, head in her dish and tail in the air.

“Ye’re up early?”

“Yeah, trouble sleeping.”

“Aye, this business in France is terrible.”

“Yeah, unbelieveable—man’s inhumanity to man.”

“They even shot people in wheelchairs—whit sort of monster are they?”

“Can we talk about something else, Daddy?”

“Why did ye use the cloakroom?”

“I couldn’t sleep and Simon was sprawled across the bed, so I came down and slept on the settee in the lounge. Madam there, came to join me.”

“Sae that’s whaur she wis, I usually hear her come doon thae stairs in her clogs.”
I made myself some tea and sat at the table, Bramble was up on my lap in a second where she proceeded to wash every square centimetre of herself. That was okay until she hung on with her claws while leaning over to wash some part or other. I squeaked and she fell off scratching my thigh in the process. Cor, doesn’t it sting, little sod. It was an accident so I refrained from retribution. Next minute she shot up the stairs after ambushing the dog, who ran under the table for safety.

“She’s awa back taeTrish noo she’s haed her breakfast.”

“Little monster, she scratched my leg and she had Simon last night—mind you he stood up as she landed on his lap, not a good combination.”

Tom smirked.

We sat talking about everything and nothing until Bramble dashed into the kitchen followed by Trish and then Livvie, finally Hannah, Mima and Cate arrived and breakfast began in earnest, the cat rubbing herself against Trish’s legs before jumping up on to her lap where Trish fed her tiny morsels of toast. I suppose in the interests of hygiene I should have stopped her but was it worth the arguments that would inevitably follow? Probably not.

“Where’s Julie and Phoebe?”

“Och they went aff hoors ago.”

“Why?”

Daddy shrugged.

“They had a bridal party coming in for a makeover,” offered Trish dropping some toast on the floor for Kiki.

“What—before seven o’clock?”

“They had to get flowers and stuff.”

“Why?”

“The girl was havin’ stuff in her hair—I dunno do I?”

I noticed that the girls had finished so while I had a bowl of cornflakes and a fresh cuppa I sent them to get Simon up. They were closely followed by that darn cat, who is rarely far from Trish when she’s home. Two independent spirits who recognise the other perhaps?