The Weekly Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3388 by Angharad Copyright© 2023 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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On Monday, I was back at university and bantering with Diane as usual, she was trying to remind me that I had exams that I had to supervise, I usually did a share at them to stop my staff from grumbling and I was doing my shift near the end of them because of my other commitments. I was quite happy as I had a paper to present to the Bank board in ten days time and I could possibly do a quick draft while I was invigilating. Diane had even made me a flask of tea to take with me, so provided I didn't need to go to the loo I was fine, and like the candidates, I went for a wee before starting, It was three hour exam so I reckoned if I waited an hour before I started my tea, I'd be fine for a couple of hours before I'd need to go again.

I started the exam with the usual announcements or housekeeping as we called it reminding them if they heard a fire alarm what they should do as it wouldn't be a test so to leave the exam room and proceed to the assemble point and so on, I'm sure you've all been there. Then I had to give a warning about cheating and how anyone caught doing so would be removed from the exam, their paper cancelled and they would probably be expelled from their course. Then we were off and I could at last start thinking about my bank paper. I'd get up every so often and walk up and down, occasionally answering a query or just watching the students without putting them off.

I got a draft done and also consumed a good mug of tea from my flask, making the odd check with my fellow invigilator that all seemed well. This time there seemed nothing out of order and we collected the exam scripts and sealed them, these were final year students and we hoped we'd be sending out letters of congratulations in a couple or so months or letters of commiseration that they hadn't met the require standard and re-sit dates. That was usually before the new term started to get it all done and dusted before we all started again. Like most universities, anyone who re-sat an exam only got a pass, it wasn't qualified, so their degree could be affected but at least they had one.

Thankfully, I wasn't involved with marking, i only marked papers for master's or doctoral degrees which were much longer pieces of work and consequently much harder to do for both me and the candidates and also involved a viva voce or oral exam at a future date after the papers were marked and agreed by the examiners. There's quite a lot of work involved that the student doesn't see and I know that Diane nearly tears her hair out trying to arrange it all, synchronising diaries and so on.

I also had to send out more begging letters to various places trying to get grants from post-grad students who were hoping for financial support in their studies and about which subject they were prepared to study and agree to sell their souls for it. Some of them were grants or commissions from Natural England, so it's government money, but these were usually at doctoral level. Sometimes they were lucky enough to have a trip abroad to gather data, but we all knew that it was in part a 'jolly' and they have some fun as well.

I wasn't lucky enough to get a trip to Africa or America but I did do one to Scotland for two weeks I was roughing it, living in a tent, trying to keep dry - it rains a lot in Scotland - or trying to keep the tent from migrating to Siberia in the gale force winds. If you've never tried to make a pot of tea when there's horizontal rain accompanied with gusts of sixty mile an hours winds, you haven't lived. Plus, I usually wore knickers instead of Y-fronts or boxers, so I had to be careful about being discovered. I decided to take the risk rather than buy more boy's underwear and at times I was glad to wear tights under my cargo pants to help keep me warm.

We were doing field work on the Orkney vole Microtus arvalis orcadensis an anomaly, which can't half bite as some us found out the hard way. There has been all sorts of speculation about these animals and after DNA sampling it is generally thought that they were transported by Neolithic people from mainland Belgium about 4000 years ago and they are now regarded as a sub-species of the Belgian voles. I dipped out, because while we were taking blood samples for DNA sampling, another group were in Belgium collecting samples to compare with ours. Their weather was mainly dry but certainly, my experiences in such adverse conditions taught me to appreciate my warm dry bed back at the hall of residence in Sussex. It took a couple of weeks for my sleeping bag to dry out and it didn't lose its fusty smell until it was washed and line-dried at home some months later. Of course, I had to do it but that's another story.

To handle one of the blighters, our friendly not, rodents, we wore gloves which weren't bite-proof but mainly protected us. Of course, I was teased about my longish, shaped nails, and my big arse (my cargo pants were ladies), but I tried not to react and my official role much of the time was recorder, so I had to lug a waterproof clipboard and supply of forms around with me, but at least I wasn't carrying several Longworth traps about like some of the boys.

Apart from DNA sampling we weighed, measured and sexed them and tried not to get eaten. I actually learned how to handle uncooperative, hostile rodents but I usually left that to the others, content to keep records in my girly handwriting.

One night, Heather and I were synchronising notes, she was the recorder for the other group, we were split into two teams of nine students with one appointed as recorder, when she said, "You are so girly, Charlie," she gave me a huge smile, " you even make me feel quite butch compared to you. Is there anything you want to tell me?"

As she was one of the biggest gossips on my course the last thing I was going to do was tell her about me. "No, but I'm sick of wearing waterproofs, I thought they said the forecast was supposed to be good this week?"

"It is in Sussex," she said and continued entering our records on a laptop. When she finished I went to look at it and she had written my name as Charlotte.

"Hey, you've got my name wrong."

"Well, it's too late now, I've sent off our data."

"So, send an erratum notice."

"Why?"

"Because you got my name wrong."

"Oh, grow up, Charlie, they all call you Charlotte behind your back, I'm surprised none of the boys call you that anyway."

I tried to pretend the water running down my face was rain, but we had been under cover for an hour or so. "Are you crying? she asked me.

I sniffed and then started to cry, she hugged me and comforted me a little and eventually the tears stopped. In answer to her questioning I told her about the abuse I received at school and she was very sympathetic and drew more out of me than I wanted to say. I didn't tell her about feeling like a girl just about the abuse and the horrible headmaster we had who was determined to drive me out, he didn't but he certainly made my life hell.

So why are you so girly?" she asked.

"I didn't realise I was, it's just me," I lied, I was girly and knew it but it wasn't an act it was how I was.

"If people were so unpleasant why don't you try to act more butch, copy the guys, throw your weight about," then she looked at me, "How heavy are you?"

"About eight and half stone (119 pounds), why?"

"Charlie you realise that you're the lightest one here by about a stone (14 lbs), you're less than Minnie (proper name, Michaela), have you tried wearing girl's clothes apart from your Barbour and your girly pants?"

"No, they just fit better."

"Are you taking hormones or anything?"

"No, why?"

"Well, because you look like a girl who's just coming into puberty."

"I can't help how I look."

She stayed silent and I wasn't unhappy because I thought she may something to one of the others or back at uni. "Don't worry," she said, adding, "I won't tell anyone about this, Okay?"

I thanked her and moved back to my own tent where I stripped off my waterproofs and curled up in my sleeping bag and went to sleep, I didn't wake until it was time to get up. It had actually stopped raining and the day was much better.

The next day was our last and then it was back on the ferry and our minibus to Sussex. It was a long and boring journey and I slept through most of it. We stopped a couple of times for comfort stops and we also usually had a cuppa and a bite to eat. I survived on a tuna and cucumber sandwich. Calling in the loos on the way back to the bus I went to follow one of the boys into the Gents, when I was stopped by a security guard. "Ladies is over there madam." I was going to explain but was aware the bus was waiting, so I just complied.

"Hey, you'll never believe it but the security guy stopped Charlotte going in the Gents, sending her to the Ladies."

"Didn't she protest?" replied his listener.

"No, she just went in there, mind you she looks more like a girl than a boy." I was listening to my MP3 player and didn't hear it but was told later by Heather. I continued with my Beethoven symphonies oblivious to the gossip that surrounded me like an invisible blanket.

It must have been several weeks later that Heather scooted along the row in the lecture theatre and told me about what the boys had been saying about me. "You know, " she said, " they're convinced you're a girl, so why don't we get you a dress and some underwear and see what happens when you appeared in it, they'd shit themselves."

"I don't think so, I got beaten up at school and that was without wearing a dress," I didn't mention that it happened when I was wearing one as well.

"Spoilsport, I think it would be hoot."

"Well, I tell you what, you appear wearing a dress and they'll be equally amazed." She only ever seemed to wear jeans and a top.

I will if you will," she dared me and usually that would evoke a response of okay, but I was too wary of the response from boys and one or two of the girls to think about it. I turned her down. "I bet you'd look good in a dress, I know, what about at Halloween?" she suggested.

"I don't think so," I answered her question although part of me would have liked to see what the response would be. "I never do Halloween parties (or any other) I'm too busy studying."

"Surely, one night wouldn't make a difference?"

"They laugh at me now, why should I give them something more to laugh at?"

"I suppose you're right, pity would have been a good laugh."

"Yeah, but for who?" I replied.

About a week later Heather was attacked in a street just passed the university. I happened to be walking that way to the local chip shop when I saw it happen. I shouted and ran to her aid and the mugger ran off. Now, it was my turn to comfort her and I helped her back to the university where they called the police and took over. We were good friends after that and she never once mentioned my effeminacy or dresses while we were at university together.