The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1722 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Perhaps it was fitting that I should have the privilege of calling Samantha by her name first, I expect the others will just call her Sam, like they always have.

When we had a few minutes she asked me to help her devise a letter to inform those with a need to know of her change of name and status. “What about the bank–how do I tell them?”

“They’ll have policies for dealing with transsexuals, ask Simon what to do, he’ll be more au fait than I am. Make sure you write to the national insurance people and send them a copy of the declaration.”

“Who else?”

“The university–make sure you tell them that you’re taking up their option to restart your course next term.”

“You could write to the local family practitioner committee, they’ll amend your name in their records. If you’re a member of any organisation–they’ll eventually need to know, but otherwise...”

“What about the bank?” she asked me.

I assumed she wasn’t listening. “I told you ask Simon about it and the interview.”

“No, my bank account–what do I tell them?”

“Make an appointment to see someone and show them your stat dec and they’ll organise things for you. It takes a couple of weeks or so, but they’ll sort your account and issue you with new cards and so on. Which bank is it?”

“High Street.”

“Talk to Si, he’ll help you sort it out.”

She went off to mail merge her draft letter and photocopy the form she’d signed. It was so long since I’d done it all, I couldn’t remember what I did. Oh the joys of transitioning–not. Still from what I remembered, the important thing was to be doing something however small, so you felt in partial control, even if you weren’t; and to feel as if you were moving forward. When I looked back, it seems so long ago and it also seemed I’d come such a long way.

Finally the weekend of Jubilee celebrations was upon us, and rain was due to fall in copious amounts–well it’s a bank holiday, what do we expect?

Actually, the sun shone on the Saturday, so we did loads of laundry and gardening, Danny helped Simon mow lawns and helped Tom to plant things, including some flowers for me.

The girls helped me with the laundry, Trish and Livvie sorting and loading the washer, while Jacquie and I hung it out on the line. Sammi and Mima went to the shop to get the papers, taking Catherine with them. Stella dashed off to see Gareth about something urgent–anything to avoid doing something–though she did take her offspring with her.

Sunday, it was very cloudy then rained in the evening, probably because Si and Danny washed the cars. I cooked a Sunday roast, a leg of pork and Henry and Monica turned up to see their latest granddaughter–they are so good in supporting those who become part of the family.

Stella was mooching round like a dog who’d lost her bone, when I asked what was up she told me she’d let me know later. Obviously, something was going on with Gareth, but what, I had no idea.

It became clear on Monday. Gareth arrived unannounced to see Tom. At least it was unannounced to me, so it was a surprise, pleasant or otherwise would depend on what happened later. She’s often mysterious about things, so I didn’t take much heed and assumed Gareth was talking to Tom about some new policy from Natural England which affected the university.

I asked if he was staying to lunch and just before I was ready to dish it up, Tom asked me to go to the study. It transpired that Gareth had resigned from Natural England because the Secretary of State was causing them to lose any purpose that they had other than rubber stamping what rich landowners wanted them to do. He considered that they were protecting the landowners rather than the wildlife, so he was getting out rather than betray his principles.

Then came the bombshell, he was joining us at the university on a temporary contract to cover maternity leave–he’d be doing the real science stuff, biochemistry and physiology–most of it laboratory based while I was out bean counting or teaching others to do so. I like my job–he was also going to help me run the survey–in effect working for me–I wasn’t sure how happy I was about that. He’s a PhD already, I’m still labouring in vain on mine.

Later, Danny, Trish and Sammi came out with me for a bike ride–we did about ten miles before they got fed up, so I did a separate one afterwards–twenty miles in just over the hour. I must get the turbo set up again.

It rained Sunday evening so we ended up playing various board games, Gareth stayed over with Stella. Having given up on their reconciliation, I was a bit taken aback when they calmly went off to bed together after the youngsters were put to bed.

On Monday, it stayed mostly fine until the evening again and on Tuesday the sky micturated all over us again.

On the Tuesday night, after I’d had a blast on the turbo–the most brain numbingly boring exercise regime known to mankind–and was going in to shower when Si called me.

“Close the door,” he instructed. More surprised than anything, I complied.

“Gareth and Stella have named the day.”

“Named the day what?” I felt like saying something totally stupid, like named it what–Fred?

“They’re getting married.”

“When?”

“July the first.”

I glanced at the calendar, “That’s a Sunday,” I didn’t think they could marry on a Sunday–apparently they can.

“Where?”

“Stanebury,” came his reply.

“At the castle?”

“No the parish church.”

“So what does she want me to do, and why isn’t she telling me this herself?”

“Ask her–I’m just the messenger.”

“I see, so do you know what I’m supposed to be doing?”

“Yes, she wants you as matron of honour, and the girls as bridesmaids–it’s apparently your job to sort out the bridesmaids on the day.”

Great, just what I needed. “Are we giving her a present?”

“Yes, I’ve seen an antique dinner service she’ll like.”

Great–I hope she doesn’t keep it in my kitchen.

“Can you pop up and see her about the dresses and things required?”

Wonderful, just what I needed, a trip to Scotland in the height of the midge season, things were going from bad to worse.