(aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2780 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.
“There’s a bonfire night thingy at the rugby club tonight,” said Simon as he dressed. I was half asleep so took long enough to process it to enable myself to resist tearing his head off.
“There is no way that I am ever going to a firework display there ever again,” I said sitting up so quickly my head swam for a moment.
“Yeah but maybe the kids would like to go.”
“Why don’t you ask Julie?”
“Yeah, okay though it would be easier if you did.”
“Simon, have you forgotten already.”
“Forgotten what?” demonstrating that he had.
“What happened at the rugby club bonfire night?”
“We watched fireworks and had baked potatoes.”
I shook my head in astonishment. “How about the year we both climbed onto the bonfire?”
He stopped fiddling with his trousers and stood bolt upright obviously trying to remember what happened. “Oh yeah, that.”
“We nearly as a family watched the immolation of our then eldest daughter. Then you wonder why I want nothing to do with fireworks or bonfires. The whole thing is a celebration of death. Down the road in Lewes they burn an effigy of the pope most years.”
“He was trying to assassinate the king and most of parliament.”
“I’m not condoning what he was plotting, that was as wicked as anything I can think of, blowing up hundreds of people to change things in your favour, except it would probably have failed and caused an even bigger backlash against Roman catholics.”
“What if it had succeeded?”
“We probably would have had a revolution like the French instead of the Civil War. Remember that Charles I, was almost catholic anyway.”
“Okay, okay.” He resumed dressing.
“Besides I’d like to watch BBC Autumn Watch, supposed to be something about dormice on it.”
“Fine, we’ll watch telly, surely they can’t teach you anything about dormice, can they?”
“Who knows? Only a fool thinks they know everything.”
“Fine, see you later then.”
“I might as well get up, I’m wide awake anyway.” I pulled on a dressing gown and scuffed into slippers and followed him downstairs. “Want some toast?”
He looked at his watch, “Could do, just about got time.”
I switched on the kettle and shoved four slices of bread in the toaster, thought I’d have some as well. “Where’s Sammi?” I asked him.
“She’ll be down in a moment,” and as he spoke so she entered the kitchen.
“What are you doing up, Mummy?” she asked, “Is that toast I can smell?”
“Your dad woke me and I decided to do him some breakfast, want some?”
“Have we got time, Daddy?”
He nodded and she beamed a smile back at me. Pointing at the kettle, I suggested Si made some tea or coffee while I buttered the toast. I also put in a couple more slices this time for me. Minutes later we were sitting at the table drinking and eating our toast. It felt peaceful, six o’clock and no one was yet awake except us. Mind you I had yet to see if the early start would catch up with later, especially as we had a faculty meeting later—guess who gets to chair it?
The rest of the morning shot by, I showered and dressed and then roused the others, then while they were showering or dressing I made a huge pot of porridge which they all tucked into, even Phoebe and Julie had some—it’s supposed to last you longer than some cereals and also to lower cholesterol. As I usually feel hungry a short time after eating it, I’m not sure about the other attributes either. I had some more toast and another cuppa.
At the university, Diane took minutes at the faculty meeting. We’re supposed to be devising protocols for what we’re teaching next year but it always degenerates into a grumble session. I took a firm hand to it as soon as the grumbles started and to most people’s astonishment and pleasant surprise wrapped it up in an hour and a quarter, delegating jobs to nearly everyone but me. My job is to see they produce the goods or chase them until they do. I told them I wanted reports on their progress the first week back after Christmas.
I left Diane doing the minutes and went off to sort out some stuff for the survey. It’s crazy that I as a professor should be doing this, but if I didn’t do it, no one else would. I’ve tried delegating and it works for a bit then they get fed up or move on. I called Pippa and made an appointment to see Tom. Yeah, I know we live in the same house but try not to discuss university stuff at home
She called me back to tell me he’d invited me to lunch. I didn’t really want to go but when I started to decline, she told me it wasn’t an option. So I got to have a working lunch.
“I need to get an assistant for the survey stuff.”
“Aye whit took ye sae lang?”
“Very funny. I’ve had four post grad students do various bits but they move on before I can train up another. I want to use some of the survey money to create a specific job doing the survey data, collecting and sorting. I’ll supervise the analysis and queries about questionable records.”
“Ye’re thae professor, ye’re also thae budget holder.”
“Yes but new posts in this climate of austerity are frowned upon, aren’t they?”
“But ye’ve got funding already, sae just carry on. Nay one can challenge ye if ye’re no asking f’ money.”
“Good, I’ll get a job description done and an advert put together. Require a good baccalaureate and computer skills. Salary about twenty thousand.”
“Whit are ye looking for a degree in?”
“Any of the sciences which show good computer skills especially in analysis and other number crunching, plus of course data inputting; any ecological background would be a bonus. I plan on running it for a year with an option to renew if it’s necessary and I have enough funding.”
“Ye mean if ye hae thae richt person?”
“Along with the other things, yes—though for a second year I’d have to up the salary.”
“Guid idea. I’m pleased to see ye’re looking beyond biology.”
“A computer geek who can learn how to use Sammi’s program would be fine, and there’s loads of them working in supermarkets and elsewhere unable to get jobs to do what they trained for.”
“Where’d ye put them?”
“My old room or find another one or even create one. I was thinking we’ve got that large prep room off the technicians room in lab four, use that perhaps. We could transfer all the survey records down there and free up some space in my office.”
“Whose office?” he asked glaring at me.
“Who’s professor of biological sciences?” I retorted.
“Only till we find a new dean,” he said.
“Fine, I’ll retire and become a full time lady of leisure.”
“Dinnae hold yer breath,” he said scowled at me. At which, I of course fell about laughing and he shook his head muttering, “Ye scunner,” which only made me laugh more.
Comments
“Ye scunner.”
I asked a Glaswegian acquaintance (ex-shipbuilder) what ‘scunner’ meant only to be given a series of hurumphs. He did however confirm its authenticity!
When is the closing date for applications for that survey collation job? I'm sure there are several BC members who would like to apply. The rest of us will have to settle for watching Nature Watch.
Rhona McCloud
Scunner - Frae thae online Scots dictionary.
scunner ['skʌnər, U. 'skʌn(d)ər]
n. A feeling of disgust, surfeit or nausea, loathing.
v. To get a feeling of aversion, disgust or loathing, to feel surfeited or nauseated. With at: to feel disgust for, to be sickened by, turn in aversion from, be bored or repelled by. To cause a feeling of repulsion, aversion or loathing in a person, to disgust, nauseate, surfeit.
pt. pp. scunnert adj. Disgusted, bored, repelled, fed up. Repugnance, distaste, dislike, a loss of interest or enthusiasm. A shudder betokening physical or moral repugnance, a sudden shock. A cause or object of loathing or aversion, a disgusting or tiresome business, a pest, nuisance.
In Tom's use, it's more a term of affection as the rest of us use 'bugger' from time to time and the Aussies use 'bar steward.' Only safe to use with people you know very well eg, 'You silly bugger,' or 'Och ye scunner.'
Angharad
Bike 2780
Loving it as usual; thank you for continuing this soap opera.
Hoping you still like writing this fluff,
KR
When I stop enjoying it
It will stop. Glad you're enjoying it, thanks for the comment, now if the other 700 readers did the same I'd have a better understanding of their feelings towards it.
Angharad
Well ...
... I 'm still enjoying it and your occasionally twisted imagination as well.
Strange but I'd forgotten the bonfire horror story-line until it cropped up in this episode. Are you like the Archers script writers and keep a list of all the characters and their relationships and adventures etc?
Thanks, as always.
Robi
I like the way Tom
gets Cathy to do the job she currently holds. Seems to be lots of wisdom in that old man. He's mentoring her well.
Do you get the feeling that if and when they get a new Dean, Tom retires leaving Cathy in her position?
I Was Late
... getting to it tonight, so I didn't have time to make a comment. I'll have to see about the next episode.
Portia
Ye 're a greet writer but ye canna coont
Ye left an 0 oot. Ye meant 7 000 !
Tapalat
Briar
Ye 're a greet writer but ye canna coont
Ye left an 0 oot. Ye meant 7 000 !
Tapalat
Briar