Riding Home 20

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CHAPTER 20
It wasn’t the best day for flying, but at least the skies were clear. It was the wind that was the problem, and I wondered if my attempt at cleverness would backfire.

The Emirates plane was a Boeing 777, and I had spotted that the seating towards the rear was in blocks of two instead of three. That would give us more room and privacy, but the wind made it likely that the plane would be a bit lively in its motion, and that would be amplified by our position. I didn’t really fancy starting the trip on my knees in an aeroplane toilet.

Dennis and Kirsty had brought my godson to the airport to see us off, the mite wrapped up in enough gear for an Everest attempt. They made an odd pairing, not just because of their difference in height, but because of the way they attended to little DA. Both of them were so protective it frightened me, and I was friend rather than foe. Kirsty was never out of contact with the baby, her expression forever slightly tense, as she spotted yet another problem, whether it be a loose booty or incipient wind. Den, on the other hand, whilst just as protective, spent a great deal of time just smiling in a slightly dreamy way. It was clear to us both exactly how much the child meant to both, and the added bonus for me was seeing how they were so clearly as devoted to each other as to their child. God help a certain older woman if Kirsty ever got her alone.

We took a quick lunch with them in the Wetherspoon’s, Eric eager to have his last taste of real beer before their enforced separation. Den was thoughtful, his son on his lap as he fed him a bottle.

“So, Annie…big step”

“Dennis Armstrong, that is about as banal a statement of utter truth as I have ever heard, aye? Yes, it is a big step, but it is a step I should have taken years and years ago. Look, it’s like…like you being a dad, aye? I know you went through an awful lot of shit before getting to where you are, so it’s the best analogy I can find. Same here, aye? Years and years of false starts, lost hopes, and then someone comes along, and smiles at me, and takes me warts and all for myself, and the world’s suddenly right”

Eric had taken my hand at that, and when he quietly muttered “Bloody big wart” Kirsty laughed so hard DA began crying, so he was taken from bottle to breast. One of the bar staff was quickly over.

“Do you have to do that here? People are complaining”

Eric sighed. “Look, love, the way she has her top, nobody can see anything, and after all there is nothing more natural”

“It’s indecent. There are laws.”

Eric’s tone changed, sharply, and I saw the man I was marrying come out to play.

“Firstly, MISS, it is not indecent. Secondly, people have not complained, as you came straight over as soon as the child started to feed. Thirdly, as a regular at these establishments, they pride themselves on being family friendly. And last of all, no, there is no law against it.”

She drew herself up to her full anaemic height. “What are you, some sort of copper?”

Eric smiled, and there were teeth there. “No, I run a path lab. These three, however…”

We got an apology twenty minutes later from the bar manager. In the presence of our young lady, and I bit my tongue before I said anything that might, er, bring the Force into disrepute. As we walked towards the security checks, Kirsty whispered to me.

“Do you think your surgeon might have a bed for that bitch? Hers has obviously healed up”

I was still laughing at X-ray.

That farewell was emotional, Kirsty in tears and Dennis nearly breaking my ribs. He held Eric’s hand for the longest of moments, before a mutter of “Bring her back, mate” and they were gone.

I had chosen a lightweight maxi skirt with flat shoes for the trip, something to wrap my legs in as I tried to sleep, and a loose peasant-style blouse. I wanted to be obviously female, but just in case of problems I was carrying the notes from Raj and Sally. To my delight, there wasn’t even a flicker of interest from the security people, no rub-down, no accusatory shout of ‘freak’, and it wasn’t till after we were in the duty-free lounge that I realised how worried I had been.

We bought books, we bought memory cards, and we had an expensive coffee looking out over the airfield.

“This seat free?”

Steph, and more emotion. I caught her eye as Eric disappeared to the gents’, and she knew immediately.

“Yes, Annie, it will hurt, but that just emphasises what a step you are taking. It’s matchmaking, really, finding a body you can live with for the rest of your natural”

Her eyes had caught Eric as he walked off to the toilets, and she smiled.

“Mind you, his isn’t exactly bad, is it?”

So typical of her, she hits me spot on with such an important point, and then leaves me laughing.

“We both seem to like the small athletic sort, aye? Sarah must think we lack all taste in men”

“Yes, and there’s our problem. Lithe athletes, yeah, and a full year. Are you with us in August? Up for a ride in a van?”

Arsebollocks, I had almost forgotten, and in a moment of uncharitable thoughts about my man I wondered if he had arranged this trip so that I would be fit not only for our nuptials, and Den and Kirsty’s, but also for doing support duties on the Paris Brest Paris. That tickled Steph.

“Being suspicious, love, goes with both our jobs. Na, Bill and Jan are coming over, and I rather suspect Kelly and Mark, so there will be plenty there, no need for you…”

“Do not be so bloody stupid, Steph, you teasing sod! Just let me know what we will need, what I will need, and I will be there. Now, man on horizon…”

"Yes, Annie, and gate number on the screen. Look after yourself, and you know, if you need anything, just call. I do have a bit of an inside track on this one, yeah?”

Hugs, and tears, and off to the gate, and suddenly we were rolling down the runway and I was, Annie was, finally on her way to reality. Eric was fumbling beside the window (he’s a man, of course he got the window seat) and then he turned to me with a smile, showing me the screen of his camera.

“Got it!”

There, on the camera’s viewscreen, was a neatly framed picture of our house. Well, I had to kiss him again. I was right about the turbulence, though, and as we climbed the tail definitely wagged, and I had visions of the boys with the kite in Wales, the long and serpentine chain of ribbons was where I seemed to be sitting, but it smoothed as we climbed, and then the cabin crew were up and about, and that was another pleasant surprise: the food was actually more than edible!

“Eric, love, we seem to have a busy year lined up”

“Why, what do you have planned?”

“Two weddings and a funeral if you keep teasing. What do you want to do about PBP?”

“Well, I rather thought I might start by riding from Paris to Brest, and then…back again?”

“Sod that you are. Steph was talking about doing support for the two of you”

The teasing manner stopped, as if a switch had been thrown.

“As long as you are there, I will feel better. I will admit, I am nervous as all hell about the ride”

“You will have Geoff with you, aye?”

“Yeah, but it’s twelve hundred K, yeah?”

“I’ll take a crate of ale over….”

He started to laugh again.

“What’s so funny?”

“You realise now what image I am going to be holding in my head for the ride, now? You, in a Paris hotel room, lying naked on the bed, a bottle of Hook Norton in each hand!

I cuddled up to him across the armrest.

“Could be arranged, aye?”

We changed planes in the dark at Dubai, a soulless shopping complex with all sorts of odd people from a vast array of origins all seeming in a hurry to spend cash on everything from gold to chocolate, and then we were off again into the darkness, and after I had struggled to keep up with the plots of the various films on the back of the seat in front of me I realised that I had actually been sleeping in short bursts. Everything was topsy-turvy; the brilliant daylight outside the cabin contrasted with the darkness within, as people fought to adjust their body clocks. Time dragged, until the cabin began to stir, and suddenly we had food again, and the blinds were going up. I looked out of the plane once more, at the arid plains of India, and giggled.

“Penny for them?”

“Nothing big, Eric, was just thinking that the baby was wrapped up ready for climbing Everest, and, well, it’s just over there, aye?”

A long flight, and all it was broke down into little snippets of silliness and affection. That was how my life now was, I realised, just like the flight. I woke up, I reached out, and there he was beside me.

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Comments

So, we've skipped forward

So, we've skipped forward four months or so? I'd commented on Chapter 19 (but it got eaten, it seems) that it struck me as odd that Annie was so unconcerned with who would be doing her surgery. I'd spent a year or more researching options, and here it seems like she's open to any surgeon that's convenient. I hope that there's been some research on their parts, between the scenes. In any event, I'll look forward to seeing where this goes.

skipping merrily....

I am trying to draw a balance between the minutiae of a daily life and the big events that tie them together. The whole point of Eric's naughtiness from the previous chapter is exactly that, that he spent his own time, together with Sally and Raj, as well as his own money, on research into surgeons et al. Call it author focus, call it bad writing [ :-) ] but one thing I rarely ever do is concentrate on the actual surgical aspects. I consider those to be better left off-stage.

If there are worries about that aspect, there are words I can write to make Eric's role clearer. The point I am bringing across, or trying to, is that she now has complete trust in him. Not a case of handing over control, but letting him into her life as fully as possible.

EDIT: Just adapted chapter 19 to make that bit clearer.

I'm certainly not accusing

I'm certainly not accusing you of bad writing, and I don't dispute your assertion that those details are better left off stage. Nor was I even complaining about the jump in the timeline - it makes clear that important things happen without you having to be their faithful scribe. :)

Indeed!

And I have fixed that little detail you pointed out.....an ex-bear of small brain, me.

Meh....

Too good to warrant any complaint. Just keep them coming. Two in my 'day'. A very pleasant treat. You are gifted girl. Truly gifted. I find I am just so jealous of almost every one of the characters (except the villains of course) that I just want to be one, any of them. What more could an author do?

Funnily enough ...

... as I read the first sentence "It wasn’t the best day for flying ..." I was just thinking exactly the opposite because it's a warm almost windless day here and I'm charging batteries to do just that .. fly, that is with a toy aeroplane :)

Things are beginning to happen now and both Annie and Eric have some hard things to do. Perhaps the hardest might be breaking their new Brookes saddles :) Probably not but it's certainly going to be interesting and, hopefully, not in the proverbially Chinese sense. I tried to qualify for PBP back in 1991 after I thought I'd recovered from an accident - I hadn't and suffered an ignominious blow-up in Dolgellau on the 400km ride. I know how hard PBP is but Annie's experience is something in which I can only sympathise rather than share.

Robi

For this?

Andrea Lena's picture

...I'm crying and I have absolutely no idea why. Maybe because she's 'this close' to seeing fruition to her dreams and fears and dreads and joys and wonders? *Sigh....*


Dio vi benedica tutti
Con grande amore e di affetto
Andrea Lena

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

Riding Home 20

Breastfeeding is a most natural and beautiful function that should not be made light of. Very few mothers seem to want to breastfeed, which is a shame as their milk contains what the baby needs.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

And you know this how?

Andrea Lena's picture

...citing personal experience isn't always convincing, but being the 'aunt' of six nephews and ten nieces and the 'great aunt' to a new-born, all of whom were breastfed, coupled with all the other women I know who have breastfed their children, I'd imagine you might have to rethink your position. In fact, with all of the reports on tv and in the papers or on the internet about women who are being embarrassed by intrusive fools who are against public breastfeeding, as evidenced by this fictional account, I'd say quite the opposite is true; more and more women are breastfeeding their kids


Dio vi benedica tutti
Con grande amore e di affetto
Andrea Lena

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

Visibility

There are ways, involving nursing bras of course, of having a child happily feeding with nothing visible to the passerby. For some idea of what it means to mothers, there is always 'Bike' as a reference point. All my girl friends who have nursed find the concept of NOT nursing to be incomprehensible.

Thinking back to all the

Thinking back to all the many children I know that were born in the last three decades, I can't recall a single one that wasn't breast fed. I would say it's far more common than formula feeding, at least around here.

Emirates

joannebarbarella's picture

Not a bad airline. It's a pity their hub is Dubai, which is not only a shit of an airport, but the city which is the world's biggest confidence trick.

Never mind. Our intrepid travellers are only in transit, on their way to the important rendezvous for our girl. Fingers crossed, Annie.

Joanne

Nursing comment

The interaction over the public nursing was well done. It is individual phobias that create problems, not the act itself.

I remember back in the late 50's and early 60's with my teenage male hormones raging wild. The glimpse of a bare female breast was fodder for many a masturbatory fantasy. Yet, whenever I saw a mother nursing a baby the hormones didn't bother me. All I ever saw was a beautiful sight. Why the difference? I don't know to this day. Maybe my feminine side coming out at that point (I already knew I was bi and had some feminine tendencies) or it could have just been my mind differentiating between lust and love.

Whatever the case, women should be allowed to nurse in public while using proper decorum so as not to blatantly expose the breast(s) to anyone who may not be interested in seeing them or too traumatized by it. Do what's right for the baby and you, to hell with the rest of them.

Hugs,
Erica

Nice little moments before she goes

perfect moments before she takes the final step. Everyone doing this journey should have such friends.

Dorothycolleen

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