The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2948 by Angharad Copyright© 2016 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 felt exhausted. It was eleven o’clock on a Sunday evening and after trying to please everybody with some attention, I finally went and dealt with my emails. They were all work related and I spent an hour responding to them. I was too tired to even consider a cup of tea. I found Simon who was watching a film with Julie. “I’m off to bed while I still have the energy to walk up the stairs—night.” I pecked them both on the cheek and stumbled up to bed. Ten minutes later I was asleep having given my teeth one of the fastest brushes known to medical science. I hadn’t even looked at the book on the bedside table.

Unusually, I didn’t even feel Simon come to bed let alone get up the next day. I woke at about half past six to sunlight and birdsong. Once upon a time, I’d have got up and been out on the bike before having a shower and my breakfast. In those days, there was only Si and Tom and me to worry about and life was relatively uncomplicated, though at the time it didn’t seem any less tiring and stressful. In those days, I’d worry about people finding out about me—my history; or get embarrassed by being described as Lady Cameron before I’d got married.

Given the level of responsibility I had now, why was I so stressed then because it was like a cakewalk compared to my life today? Yet I was. How did I let my father bully me so much and be so frightened of him? As a child, physical size was enough for him to do so then as I grew, the intimidation grew and he physically assaulted me more than just a slap or two—twice he actually beat me up. Why didn’t I fight back? Because part of me thought he was right or had a right to do it. I was some sort of freak and deserved it—while there is a still a large part of world still feels that anyone who doesn’t conform to narrow stereotypes is deserving of beatings or humiliation or even killing—I no longer feel ready to accept victimhood and I know that I am not only as good as them, but in reality superior because despite them I have succeeded in my chosen field and I don’t bear them any long term malice.

We have to move on and bearing grudges or any other form of resentment requires far too much energy to maintain while doing you harm instead of the ones who deserve it. Embitterment eats away at the holder not the cause and holds them in that same place—the hell that began it all.

For years people like my father and Aubrey Murray, my old headmaster, held a power over me through my fear and bad memories. Fortunately, I had a chance to confront my fears, overcome them and eventually move on. I learnt to defend myself against physical abuse and also against psychological abuse and became determined never to allow myself to be cast in the role of victim again.

When I became responsible for children who wanted me to be their mother I had to make sure I didn’t follow the same model of parenting that I received, at times that was difficult, especially when it became obvious that some of the children were gender different.

Also, I didn’t want to have children raised to believe in fantasy stories that they should always be happy as if it were their right, that they were perfect and deserving of everything without earning it. That sounds as if I felt they should be flogged twice a day and sent up the chimney or down the mines, it meant they should be taught that the reality of life on this planet is tough but that with the correct support and encouragement, they could achieve their dreams as I had.

As a parent, I realised it’s my job to show an example and to provide with the skills and resources they’d need to survive and prosper. In children without gender uncertainties, that’s difficult enough; in those with gender problems, it makes everything a little harder. I don’t know if I’ve been somehow blessed to receive children who were exceptional in themselves or if I’ve somehow by accident got it right and enabled them to develop some sort of ability to cope and indeed thrive despite their handicap and I mean that in almost the same sense they do in golf or horse racing—an added obstacle or complication but not an insurmountable one. Unless one is very disabled physically or psychologically, a reasonable life is still possible if you’re given the resources you need to achieve it. Unfortunately, lots of parents are inadequate so the children have extra struggles to overcome and many don’t make it so underachieve.

It reminded me of a phone call I’d received from the father of a student we had sent a written warning to for lack of effort in the first year. The father was irate complaining about the lack of teaching his son had had from us and that he had a good mind to sue us to refund the fees we’d received for a contract we’d not fulfilled. While I was talking to him, Diane got his file out and I quickly scanned it. The boy hadn’t attended half his lectures, so he wouldn’t be up to date with his knowledge. Consequently he hadn’t completed half his assignments so was well down on his marks and finally, he’d failed mid-term assessment exams, hence the shot across his bows. His father huffed and puffed trying to blame us and in the end I simply told him the facts of life, by all means sue us but be prepared to lose big time because we have no obligation to give people degrees who can’t be bothered to turn up or do any work anymore than he could expect a salary from an employer with bothering to attend and earn it. He swore at me and cut me off.

I sent the boy a second letter telling him to make an appointment to see me to explain his lack of attendance and completed assignments and for him to bring evidence of any ameliorating reasons for this state of affairs. He didn’t nor did he bother to turn up for anything else here again. I assume he dropped out. If his father had assisted him in attending for lectures or completing his assignments, he may have had a chance of succeeding in completing the course and getting his degree. Instead he chose to blame us for his own failure which I refused to accept. I’ll work with anyone to help them reach their potential but I won’t do it for them and in my inaugural lecture to new first year students I remind them we have a contract with them. We offer them the skills to interpret the data they’ll receive or generate and to use it but we require them to help us do it by attending, listening or watching and by performing the tasks we require of them to complete to prove to us they have reached the standards we set. It’s not easy, if it was they wouldn’t value it or themselves for achieving it.

The radio alarm came on and instead of listening why we should or shouldn’t stay in the European Union, I went for shower while I decided what I would wear today. I lead such an exciting life.