Easy As Falling Asleep
by: Bonzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzi
part:340

Simon seemed rather subdued for the rest of the day–perhaps the bike ride had taken more out of him than I’d thought. He had given me a bit of a fright, riding far faster than I’d anticipated and for longer, however, two weeks wasn’t quite enough to build him up sufficiently to beat me. It did, however, make me want to get back into riding regularly and to do so as fast as I could.

I know that legally I wasn’t yet eligible to change my birth certificate to female, I had nearly a year to go, and how that would affect my status for racing I didn’t know. I did think about contacting the Gender Recognition Panel to ask for their advice. I didn’t want to talk to British Cycling, because I didn’t particularly want to spread this information around too widely. The most I’d ever be able to do would be to ride at club level and quite honestly, I didn’t think it was actually worth mentioning to them, just join as a female rider and see what happened. I’m not that fast anyway, just faster than Simon! Hee hee.

He remained comatose in the chair until I did some lunch, which he forced himself to eat–it hardly touched his throat, so I guess he enjoyed it. He chatted with Tom for a bit, had a glass of beer and zonked again. Some weekend this was going to be.

The washing dried on the line and I ironed it while my lord and master looked on with eyes closed and snoring! He’s great company, maybe I’ll get a dog or a cat instead. He awoke while I was getting dinner, a lamb casserole which cooked itself while I did the ironing. He did offer to help do the spuds, which were half cooked by then. Men–don’t you just love ‘em?

Tom opened a bottle of red to go with dinner and both Simon and I had one glass each, so Tom had to have two. Maybe Stella had had some affect upon her big brother, I hoped so.

We actually played Scrabble that evening and I got the only seven letter word out–‘cycling’; Tom still won. I think he cheats and he did the scoring, hmm!

That night after we went to bed, Simon was like an animal–a dormouse, he fell asleep and stayed asleep. I’m beginning to think he is like one of my little friends, not that he has a hairy tail, but that he seems to spend half his life asleep.

In some ways, I wasn’t too worried. My exercise had caught up with me too and I went off pretty quickly, and managed to stay asleep until about seven the next morning. I awoke with the sound of church bells which reminded me it was Sunday. There is something so British about church bells , I hope they never stop ringing in this country, because something of immeasurable worth would be lost. I quite fancy learning about campanology, but can’t see how I’d have time to fit it in at the present.

“Hello sleepy head,” said a voice from my left.
“Sleepy head? I’ve been awake for ages listening to the church bells,” I retorted.

“Bloody racket, don’t they know it’s Sunday!”

“Duh! Simon, do you not know about Sunday being the Sabbath and all that?”

“Nah, I’m a heathen porridge scoffer.”

“So I’d heard.”

“Who told you such things?”

“You did,” I laughed.

“I did? I did, did I? Well it must be right then.”

I was losing the will to live while he was sorting this irrelevant fact out. “I actually like the sound of bells on a Sunday.”

“What? You’re a bigger sceptic than I am!”

“So, I can still enjoy the sounds of my native land, it’s better than traffic noise.”

“True. So are you contemplating a church attendance?”

“No, why?”

“I just wondered.”

“Wondered what?” I asked.

“Wondered if you were going to church, if you were I wouldn’t be able to make mad passionate love to you all morning.”

“Is that still on offer?” I asked.

“Which, church or passion?”

“I think I’d probably opt for passion.” I wondered if this was wise, he’d probably sleep for the rest of the day. “Unless of course you’d prefer a bike ride before the roads get busy?”

“Maybe later, if you have any energy left.” He smiled at me, a bit like a baby with wind, remembered he hadn’t been to the loo yet and went to remedy it. I nipped out to the toilet across the landing, just in case he wasn’t joking.

He wasn’t and his stiffness from riding–maybe I should rephrase that? Anyway, he didn’t seem to be lacking in stamina for the next hour or so and it was me, who needed a quick snooze afterwards. I did however wander about for the rest of the day with a smirk on my face, even Tom remarked on it. I was also too sore to ride, so we went for a walk instead.

Then it seemed it was Monday morning again: Simon was back to town and I was back at the uni, teaching or writing. The bank had liked my latest effort and had asked me to do a piece for the shareholders magazine. I didn’t really mind except that it took up precious time.

I wrote about the dormouse project which they were sponsoring, and included a few pictures from the university library. Annoyingly, I had to get permission to use them–huh! Our own technicians took them and I bred the bloody animals! Honestly, the red tape at times. It’s enough to hang you but not strong enough to hold your knickers up, a total waste of time and effort.

Des sent me some copies of his latest photos so I used them instead, with his permission of course. They were after all employing him too, splitting the bill with the BBC.

I chatted with him about how the weather was cooling off and that was unlikely to be much help to hibernating dormice. He suggested creating sets based on the real sites and filming with my captive animals. I thought that was cheating, but he reassured me most film makers do it. The object is the finished product, how you get there doesn’t matter as long as you don’t fake what the animals are doing. I could see his point, the overall reason for the whole thing was to tell the story of a dormouse or two, so how we did that didn’t matter too much, as long as we didn’t distort the facts. In other words; as long as my scripts accurately reflected the life of a dormouse, how we illustrated that story didn’t matter so much. Obviously, if we described them as able to fly and then faked them doing so, that would be deception and would bring down upon our heads, all that the powers that be, could throw at us.

It was my turn to feed the dormice and do the cages, so I had ample opportunity to observe how they were. Another female had dropped a litter, so we had two lots now, which were out of synch with the natural world, but gave us more chance to release more later in the summer.

I got Tom to take in a couple of outfits for me and then cycled into work every day. I was determined to get fitter and to improve my speed, strength and stamina. I would talk to the local cycling club or see what the uni had to offer in a few more weeks, and take the risk about not disclosing my history.