The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2928 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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For our dodecaphiles, episode 244 dozen.

Debbie was waiting for me at the office when I got in the next morning, what does she want now? Was my first thought, then I decided she probably still needs a bit of mothering as she doesn’t know many people here yet, so she comes to me, given the potential for the wrong thing to take more time to sort out than answering her query, my hackles went flat again.

“Thanks for the note, Cathy, hopefully I’ll be moving in at the weekend, that will feel so good—a room of one’s own.”

“I quite enjoyed that one, made more sense than bloody, Orlando.”

She blushed, “I quite enjoyed it actually.”

“Forgive for saying this, ladies, but what are we talking about?”

“Virginia Woolf,” we both answered in unison.

“Oh, I couldn’t take her seriously after Nicole Kidman’s false nose,” offered Diane.

“What?” we both said like it was rehearsed.

“She played Virginia Woolf in some film or other with Meryl Streep.”

“Ah, The Hours, with Philip Glass’ violin concerto,” I said realising what she was on about.

“What are you both talking about?” said a perplexed looking Debbie.

“Nicole Kidman played Virginia Woolf in the film, The Hours which used Philip Glass’ violin concerto in its soundtrack.”

“Ah—now I understand.”

“Good, this is supposed to be a place of enlightenment—please note I did say supposed, rather than is; though your self-confessed epiphany shows that we achieve it now and again.”

“Can you enlighten me further oh wise sage...?”

“Not if you take the piss, I won’t.” As I said this Diane laughed so much she had to run off to the loo.

“Professor um—Cam—um I mean...”

“Watts, perhaps,” I assisted.

“That’s the one,” she blushed and I pretended to be ferocious so she blushed some more. “I have some exam papers to mark.”

“So have most teaching staff it seems to be one of the reasons we’re called a place of education.” I was teasing her but with a dead pan face.

“Yes I know that bit, it’s what sort of marking plan you have that I don’t.”

“Ah, well do the same as I do—if they’re good looking pass them if they’re ugly, fail ’em.”

“You don’t do that, do you?”

“Duh.”

“Phew, you had me worried then.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “There is a plan but as we vary it each time we examine them, I can’t remember which marking scheme we’ve adopted this time, come through all will be revealed—of marking schemes, that is. She followed me into the office and I began to flick through the files in the cabinet extracting one, looking through it before returning it and extracting another one, which happened to be the current one.

Diane brought us in a cup of tea each and some biscuits—more of my Lotus biccies. These aren’t anything to do with the UK manufacturer of sports cars and formula one vehicles. Debbie and I sat down and I showed her what we were marking for and how some of the key phrases or words would be accorded extra marks if used in the correct context. She sipped her tea and nodded. I got Diane to do her a photocopy and she eventually went off muttering something about ducks, though why I didn’t know as we didn’t mention anything to with ducks in the course.

Finally, I could do some marking—not something I was anticipating with pleasure, rather it’s something I anticipate with sense of gloom or foreboding. Though by lunch time and three cups of tea later, I’d done most of my stuff and hoped to get some planning done for a sponsorship I hoped I could inveigle a local company to provide. Again not my personal idea of fun but I have more than myself to keep on board and sponsorship or contracts pays for post grad students to do research in the area required by the sponsor. We do have ethical standards so we won’t just do any old thing, it has to support the values we espouse or we won’t do it. I suspect most UK universities have the same sort of policy, at least in their publicity material, but someone must produce the research the weapons and oil industries use—but not us.

Actually, I know Southampton do work on oil spillages, some of which is bound to be funded by the oil companies but the details are not known to me, except I applaud them if they’re helping to make the marine environment safer. Talking of oil, I read that they’re drilling for it in the Amazon estuary and they discovered a huge coral reef which was a complete surprise in the muddy, fresh waters of the world’s largest river. There is so much water flowing down it that the sea is affected by freshwater for hundreds of miles and many species of animal and plant must have evolved to adapt to it. I wonder if I could do a sabbatical down there studying them for a couple of months except I suspect Debbie would find me down there as well to ask some advice on teaching or to shorten her knickers or some other such thing.

According to Maureen, the Drummond’s old house is let as furnished, so Debbie will only need to provide her own clothing and perhaps bedding together with any gadgets she wants. There was a television but a previous tenant took it with them—the joys of letting houses. I told Maureen to replace the telly or I’d have Debbie pestering me more than I do already.

As I was about to go to lunch at the refectory Debbie appeared again, I didn’t have the heart to tell her I wanted to eat by myself as I was still thinking about the wording I wanted to use to invite sponsors, so I let her tag along.

“You know, Cathy, I think the woman I’m letting the house from is trans.”

“Trans?” I queried knowing full well what it meant though it’s not a term I like or use.

“Yeah, you know transgender.”

“Ah, so why not use that term instead of the shorter form?”

She shrugged and it flowed off her back like water off a duck, “It’s just what people say in the community.”

“What community?”

She blushed realising she’d given herself away. “I read it in the Guardian I think.”

“Quite probably they seem to have loads of stuff about minority groups in there.”

“Yeah, they do.” I let it go and just as we were entering the refectory she asked, “I wonder if Julie would do my hair?”

“Why don’t you give her a call and see?” I said without feeling myself getting hotter though it was the last thing I wanted.

“She makes such a nice job of yours.”

I nodded and looked at the menu, though I didn’t know why, I eat the same thing pretty well every time I come here, a tuna jacket potato with salad garnish, washed down with a bottle of still water—as opposed to the sparkling variety, though there is talk of having a water cooler machine put in. If it is I wonder how much they’ll lose in revenues from selling bottled water at fifty pence a time?

“The marking’s coming along fine now and most of them have passes.”

“Good,” I said not wishing to discuss it.

“Are we still on for Friday night for my sewing? I’ve a skirt I’d like to try and alter, It’s a bit big across the hips.”

“What sort of skirt?”

“A red one.”

Oh boy, "What type of skirt is it, pencil, A-line, pleated...”

“Oh, I see, silly me, it’s a pencil one.” She’s going to get ‘trans’ women a bad name and she’s not even blonde.

I managed to get shot of her when she went off to do some tutorials and I could return to my begging letters.