A special extra episode 'cos it's my birthday and I can't go out on my bike and I don't feel like doing housework.

Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by Birthday Girl & Bonzi.
part 130 ("Same as her age," Bonzi).Gonna kill that cat!

I found myself sitting in the car again, seemed to be becoming a habit, it used to be a bike. I had an idea and shot home.

Twenty minutes later I clipped my cleats in and was zipping through the side roads towards the downs. I went down through Avonmouth and back up the gorge with a nice hill climb to get into the city, then home. Altogether I was out about ninety minutes but felt so much better for it. They ought to prescribe cycling on the NHS - cures everything except saddle sores!

I checked the breadmaker, the kitchen almost sang with the aroma and my stomach rumbled. It wasn't quite done, so up to the shower. I dressed in something tidy, a black and gold top with the odd sequin and bead sewn on it, tiny capped sleeves and a deep vee neck. No one would be in any doubt about my sex! To go with this I wore a black velvet skirt, a relatively full skirt, with a gold beaded band of an inch about three inches from the hem. The skirt and top weren't matching but they were close enough.

Makeup sorted, a bit more than usual and a redder lipstick than I normally wore then a good squirt of Opium. To complete my ensemble, I wore my sapphire necklace and earrings, with a silver bracelet and Mum's engagement ring.

Down stairs the bread was ready and I unloaded the machine, washed it out and made up the next batch for tomorrow, then set it going again. Maybe I could get a tax break as a new bakery? I smirked at my own joke and then recalled the earlier experience. No I didn't need to go.

I made some ham and salad sandwiches, ate a couple of rounds and packed up the rest with a flask of what remained of the soup I'd made earlier. Finally, I pulled on my old red boots, they were comfortable and warm - goodness, a couple of months ago if someone had told me I'd be able to walk about in these all day, I wouldn't have believed them. I'd have rolled my eyes at the chance let alone the reality. So much had happened in such a short time, but the truth was, if Stella hadn't set the ball rolling, I'd still be a wannabe dreaming of what I'm doing now. I shook my head and pulled on yet another of her donations, a long thick velvet jacket with a hood and fur trim, all in black. Picking up my bag and the food bag, I set off for the car.

As I was driving back to the hospital I had a thought. My stalker seems to know my car, I had a plan to get around that. I bounced on to the ward.

"Hello Miss Watts, didn't expect to see you here again today."

"Yeah, well there's nothing on telly and I just love 'Casualty', so I thought I'd come and watch it live." Actually that was rubbish, I didn't watch the show at all, had enough of hospitals recently.

"Oh yes, now why did you come back."

"Well I found this unbreakable flask and thought I'd road test it."

The nurse laughed, "He's been good since you went, what did you say to him?"

"Family secret," I smirked back.

"Oh! Be like that then," she patted my arm. "You look and smell nice, going on somewhere after?"

"Sort of, do you think ...."

"Hi Daddy," I effused all over him, took him by surprise and his face lit up like a Christmas tree."

"Affy," he beamed back at me.

"I brought you in some more soup and a sandwich, which you are going to eat, every last crumb, godditt?"

He nodded, "Vues piddy," he managed to emit.

"I'm what?"

"Piddy, ike mmmmm uvver."

"Pretty like my mother?"

"Ess," he smiled and I could feel his genuineness.

"Why thank you Daddy," and gave him a smacker on his cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark. I decided I wouldn't wipe it off just yet.

He couldn't manage all of his soup or quite all of the sandwich, but I could tell he had tried. "Hmm, I suppose I'll let you off this bit, but you won't get curly hair if you don't eat your crusts."

This was a line my mother used to throw at me when I was a kid, in those days I didn't want curly hair and refused to eat them. Until, I met Jane Eastman, she had luscious locks of vibrant curls in a beautiful golden colour, I was so jealous I stared at her all morning. In nursery, they wondered if I was developing a form of autism. I ate my crusts after that, but still have straight as stair rods hair! My mother lied to me - no wonder I'm an emotional wreck!

As we were finishing up, the nurse arrived with a couple of blankets and proceeded to wrap my dad up like Tutankhamun's mummy. He looked uncertain about what was happening. "You ready then?"

He looked even more unsure, and his eyes pleaded with me, almost scared. "Don't worry, we're only going down the pub and I suppose it's my round, eh?"

He stared at me in disbelief and I moved to the back of the wheelchair and after pulling on my coat, pushed him out of the ward and along the corridors to freedom.

The walk to the pub was longer than I thought and he'd nodded off by the time we got there, my feet were pleased I could finally sit and give them a break although we had the reverse journey to do. I did wonder about a taxi, then thought it was nice for him to get some fresh air.

I pushed him right up to a table and with a couple of straws linked together, he could manage to suck up his half of 'Ruptured Ferret' or whatever the brew was called. I sipped a glass of Chardonnay for a price that would get a whole bottle in Tesco. C'est la vie.

He smiled at me, and savoured his beer. " 'Ang goo."

"S'okay," I smiled back, "I thought we could both do with a treat." He nodded in agreement.

"Voos ooti-cal," he said after staring at me for a minute.

"I'm what?" not quite catching what the second or subsequent words were.

"He said you're beautiful," said a voice to my right and I spun around to see who it was.

"Oh," I blushed, it was the archetypal tall dark stranger.

"And he's absolutely right, you are." The ultrabright smile was almost blinding from his perfect teeth, they were encased in the face of an adonis. Six feet tall, dark curly hair, neatly cut, no designer stubble, well fitting polo-necked sweater and cord jacket and trousers. Wow, I'll bet he wouldn't have talked to Charlie at the pub with his dad. Come to think of it, except for a few occasions in the summer, I didn't ever go to a pub with my parents. The last time must be when I was about twelve and we had lunch in the beer garden.

"Can I get you both a drink?"

My father's eyes sparkled, he'd finished his half. I was half way through my wine. "I don't usually let strange men buy me drinks," I said.

"I'm not strange and I don't like drinking alone." He thrust out his hand, "Ben Corton."

I reluctantly took his hand and shook it, "Cathy." I deliberately withheld my surname.

"Pleased to meet you," he shook my hand which was dwarfed in his, goodness his felt warm. "And you, Cathy's dad,"

"Derek," I offered, as he took my father's good hand and squeezed it.

"What're you having?" He said stepping towards the bar.

"I'll have a St Clements please and Daddy will have have a half of Inebriated Squirrel, or what ever they call it."

He laughed, "Nothing stronger for you?"

"No I'm driving."

"Oh okay." He went to the bar.

"So how come he can understand you and I can't?" I asked of my father.

He shrugged his shoulders as best he could, "Voo 'ike 'immm?"

"Dunno, remember I'm spoken for. One man on the go is enough, too much sometimes."

I switched the engagement ring onto my right hand. Well I wouldn't want to give him the wrong idea.

He passed me the drinks and I made sure the stones flashed in the light. "Pretty ring," he said, "You're engaged?"

"Yes," said and watched my father make a funny face.

"Lucky guy, still I hope he won't mind me sharing you for a half an hour or so."

"Should be okay, I've got my chaperone with me."

"But of course, anyway I have a wife and two kids."

"So why aren't you with them now?" I asked, ever the direct Sagittarian.

"I'm running a course at the hospital today and tomorrow."

"Oh, I see. What sort of course?"

"Would you believe, 'Speech and language therapy post hemiplegia'."

"That's why you can understand him and I can't?"

"Probably, it just takes a while to train the ear, I'm sure a bright girl like you would get it pretty quick."

"Me, I'm not very bright," I blushed, thinking, 'Or I wouldn't be blushing over a chat up line like that!'

"Ess seee iss, see at uvi-nersty."

"See I knew you were, thanks Derek, which one?"

"Not here." I blushed mouthing 'traitor' at my dad, who nearly choked himself laughing.

"Oh right, so where then?"

"Orrs-muff," betrayed my supposed protector.

"Portsmouth?" asked adonis, my treacherous dad nodded, pleased with himself.

"What are you doing at Portsmouth?"

"Orrr-mmmm-ice." Was mumbled from in front of me, and I gasped.

"Dormice?" queried my unwanted benefactor.

"If you give him my phone number I'm gonna strangle you, Daddy!" I hissed well aware that our 'guest could hear'. My father giggled again.

"So Miss Dormouse, pleased to meet you." He stood up and bowed.

I pretended to ignore him and he laughed so did my dad, I began to colour up again.

"Prettiest dormouse I ever seen," called some illiterate wag from the bar.

"Yeah, come an' 'ibernate wiv me luv," called another, showing more knowledge of my favourite rodent than I expected.

I sat blushing enough for them to be able to switch off the heating for at least an hour.

"Sorry, I erm seem to have attracted some unwanted attention."

"It's alright, just don't make it any worse," I said tersely.

"But of course."

"So you're actually studying dormice?"

"Yes have been for about three years."

"Are you actually able to find any? They're cute but elusive, I'd always thought."

"Affy's a exxx-putt, see cun fine um."

"I can well believe it, so you're an expert on finding dormice eh?"

"Sort of." I blushed again.

"So what level are you studying?"

Before my father could betray yet further, I answered quickly, "PhD."

"Oh, a real bright spark. Dr Dormouse, I wish you well in your studies," and he raised his glass to me. I nodded and blushed even more.

" Otter orr-muss," my father chanted all the way home, giggling when I threatened to push him under the next bus we saw.

I left him at the ward, still chanting.

"What's he saying?" asked the nurse putting the curtain around before they got him ready for bed.

"Doctor Dormouse," I said blushing.

"We don't have any doctor of that name around here." She shook her head. "He's tiddly, how much did he drink?"

"A couple or three glasses of beer, just halves."

"Who's this Doctor Dormouse, Mr Watts?"

"Affy isss," he chuckled and pointed at me, "seess Otter Orr-muss."

"You're Dr Dormouse?"

"Yes, I'm doing a PhD studying dormice."

"Oh, more brains than me," piped the nurse.

"Annn mmmeeeeee," roared my father, he was ever so slightly pissed.

"I think we'd better get the commode don't you?" she said to Dad and the curtains went right around. I waited for them to get him in bed and I would go. He'd had a bit of fun and I'd had some exercise plus some practice in repelling unwanted suitors, especially married ones. Although to be honest, he was okay. I mean he didn't push anything and he kept fingering his wedding ring. When I asked he showed us a photo of his wife and kids, two girls - Zoe and Beatrice.

He also took my dad to the toilet, all that laughing could have been tempting fate. That was something I couldn't do now without a designated 'disabled' loo. Oh well, that was a small sacrifice.

It had been a better evening than I'd expected, except when I went to the bar, several of the morons propping it up called out, "I'll 'ave a pint o darmouze," or, "Fiona, can yer geddus a darmouze curry?"

"I'll try and save you some fresh dormouse urine, next time I take samples," I smiled as I collected our drinks.

"That'll teach youze, Mick Bascombe, called another and there was general uproar for a moment. At least no one pinched my bum, of which I was glad, at nearly six quid for a round I didn't want to pour one over someone's head.

"Here he is, tucked in and waiting for his goodnight kiss," called the nurse breaking my train of thought.

"Wanna st-rry," he said at me.

"You want a story?"

"Ess," he giggled.

"Okay, just a quickie." I sat down and spoke quietly to him. "Once upon a time there were these two crabby old gits, whose lives were being blighted by a horrible priest..." He went to protest but I shushed him.

"...anyway, they fell out with their son because he disagreed with all sorts of things including their ideas of who he was. He went away to seek his fortune and one day while riding his bike the good fairy bumped into him, knocking him off his bike.

She saw him cry and asked why he was unhappy, and he told her it was because he should be a girl. She smiled and waved her wand and he turned into a reasonably pretty girl..."

"Oot-eeee-vull,"

"Shurrup, who's telling this story?" I insisted and he sniggered. "Anyway," I continued, "She was introduced to this very handsome man, who after apparently falling in love with her, ler drop he was a prince..."

"Ise-ount,"

"All bloody right, a viscount. Look do you want to tell the story?"

"Ohhhhh!" he said shaking his head.

"Anway, the girl went back to see her parents, only her mother was very ill unbeknownst to her, and she died as the girl arrived with the good fairy, thinking they were angels...." my mind took me back to that awful moment and I felt my eyes well up.

"Vey wosss ain-jools," he said, his own eyes wet but smiling.

"Yeah maybe, I think that's enough of a story for tonight. I have to go."

I kissed him goodnight, and saw his expression fall, then he smiled again, "I uvvv mmm-yyy orr-or."

"You loved the story?"

"Nnnnn-oooo," he shook his head, scattering tears everywhere.

"He said he loves his daughter," a quiet voice said from behind us, "and I think I can see why." The nurse bustled away, "Coming Mr Lewis...."

"Ess," smiled my father.

"I love you too Daddy," and hugged him and kissed him again.