Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 2812

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The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike, est. 2007)
Part 2812
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.
*****

“You thinking of leaving?” he gasped.

“Not for the moment, why?”

“You sounded as if you were thinking of it.”

“It might be nice to run a department at one of the bigger universities.”

“Be quite different to Portsmouth, I’ll bet.”

“Probably, but it’s just a matter of scale, get the right team and it should work just as well.”

“Why those two—why not London or Cambridge?”

“They have a strong tradition of mammal biology, so are more likely to want to continue it...”

“Which is why they’d be interested in you.”

I smiled.

“Do Portsmouth know you’re thinking of leaving?”

“No—not yet.”

“I’m astonished, I thought you were happy with your lot.”

“Portsmouth is okay, but in order to run bigger ideas, I need bigger budgets and from there comes greater reward. It’s cramping my ambition.”

“So it would seem. Tom will be horrified.

“Disappointed that I don’t want to vegetate like he has.”

“I don’t know, he got the mammal survey.”

“Sort of.”

“What d’you mean?”

“He wanted the mammal survey but he needed a mammal survey specialist.”

“You, you mean?”

“I don’t know if I was his first choice, but I was reasonably experienced in doing surveys of all sorts of things, being essentially a field biologist or ecologist, so unlike anyone else he then had in the department, I could offer surveys of systems or individual species. While he was putting in bids for the survey, which wasn’t generally or widely known, he was making me do all sorts of stuff, including teaching others to do surveys. I also wrote his protocols for him.”

“I heard he took you because you reminded him of his daughter.”

“Because I was like his daughter, Ezzie Herbert wrote to him and suggested that he might be able to sort myself out—genderwise. I didn’t think any of the hierarchy had noticed but he obviously had.”

“How would Tom do that?”

“His daughter was transgender as well—you didn’t know?”

“Bloody hell, fancy lightning striking twice.”

“Quite. Anyway, Herbert sent me a notice of some lecture Tom was doing and I went to hear it. When I got back, he asked me what I thought of it and then suggested I write to Tom and tell him. So I did. He asked me to come and see him to discuss it, offered me a chance to do an MSc and write his survey protocols.”

“Well I never, and you had no idea this was all going on behind the scenes?”

“No, it was a few years later when I went to do a talk at Sussex that Herbert hinted at things. He also told me I was the best student in my year and the best ecologist he’d ever taught.”

“Hence them looking at you to replace him when he retires.”

I smiled.

Our food arrived and we chatted about other things. By taking Dan into my confidence, I knew the rumours would be round the university in hours and the rest of the world by Monday. I wasn’t planning on going anywhere, but were I to be thinking of it, Sussex, Bristol or Oxford would be my choices. However, while they would eventually get wind that I might be interested and when the time came if they offered the right package, then I would at least go and have a look. But, meanwhile, during the next term, I negotiate my continuing to act as professor for another year, knowing that I might be subject to a better offer—a much better offer—won’t do me any harm. Machiavelli, I’m not, he was an amateur, this girl is a professional.

I did a couple more hours of tutorials then went to collect the girls. Still no one was saying why Trish went to school so early. The reason, as I suspected, we hadn’t seen either of the girls who’d gone on ahead of us was because they’d caught the bus. Danni had enough money to pay for the tickets and I refunded her when we got home.

As no one was saying what Trish was up to, I declined to ask—my efforts the day before had met with stony silence, so pretended to be letting things ride. If Trish asked to go early on Monday, I’ll ask why but not necessarily believe the answer I get—she’s up to something. How do I know? She’s like me in so many ways but with a bigger brain.

It had me thinking about my time in junior school and the year they promoted me from shepherdess—okay, they wanted a shepherd, but I was a shepherdess—to BVM in one easy lesson, simply because I knew all the parts. Obviously, I was a budding thespian or drama queen back in those days so nothing has really changed. I really enjoyed it, I don’t know if Dad ever worked out which part I was playing. If he did, he said nothing. But you can see the only times I’ve trodden the boards it was in dresses.

David had done a cottage pie for dinner which was in the oven so all I had to do was turn up the gas and brown the top of the potato. I knew Simon would be pleased, he loves it. He licks his lips and says, “Brill, school dinners,” then eats two lots. I can only assume he enjoyed his dinners at Millfield; mind you, Stella eats her share of cottage pie. Me—I don’t mind and it’s easy to serve, just do some peas to go with it and watch it disappear.

Oh well, next we finish on Tuesday, with me boring the pants of them and then Friday, the girls finish for Christmas, so I’ll have a day or so to go shopping for presents. They also have a Nativity play to finish on with a carol service around it. Then Simon and I have to dash to be at the Dorchester Hotel for eight for the bank’s Christmas dinner dance. The university one is on Tuesday so at least we have a break in between. Damn, I’ve agreed to go shopping for a dress tomorrow, just what I needed—not.

As I went to call the girls for dinner, the younger ones were all busy whispering about something, so when I walked in on them Livvie said, “Oh-oh,” whereupon they all spun round then after some red faces they all laughed—guiltily in my estimation, but I was not going to ask them what was going on.

After dinner I told them I was going off with Auntie Stella in the morning and that Amanda was coming in to watch them for some of the time, otherwise Daddy was going to be in charge. They went off back to their conspiracy and Simon grabbed me as I cleared the table. “You’re surely not expecting me to watch them all while you’re out tomorrow?”

“You want me to accompany you to the bank’s dinner dance?”

“You’re a director, of course I do.”

“Well unless you want me there in jeans and tee shirt, I have to go and buy a dress.”

“Haven’t you got one?”

“Nothing I have is suitable apparently.”

“She has my card, doesn’t she?”

“You know she does,” except I’m your wife and I don’t have one.

“Okay—I’ll be here, just get back as quickly as you can, won’t you?”

“I think Stella said she’d booked a show for us to go and see—oh don’t forget, you’ll have her two as well.”

“What?” he went rather pale.

“If I were you I’d see if you can bribe Amanda to stay longer and possibly offer some to David and Jacquie—but they are our children, except Stella’s two natch. You have looked after them before—but don’t take them down the rugby club and fill them up with crisps and lemonade.”

He blushed, “I thought they might enjoy a change.”

“If you do you’ll be going to London on Friday on your own.”

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Maddy Bell's picture

Pie and beer! Now I could fancy some of that myself, erm did I just say that? Well another nice chapter Ang


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Madeline Anafrid Bell

Shopping should be bendigedig (?)

I wonder what Trish is up too, not Machiavellian, because he's an Amateur !
I've lost track of the children, and not so children. I need to go back and count.

Cefin

Children

Cathy's: Julie, Sammi, Jacquie, Phoebe, Danni, Trish, Livvie, Mima, Cate and Stella's: Puddin' (Desiree) and Fiona.

Hannah is being fostered by Cathy for now, what happens next will depend on Hannah's mother Ingrid.

So it does beg the question

So it does beg the question as to why Cathy doesn't have one of Simon's cards, yet his sister Stella does. Shame on him for not giving her one, right after they were married. Very thoughtless in my very humble opinion, even if Cathy may have told him originally that she might not have wanted one.

Christmas is coming

Which could possibly explain all the furtive chatting, All the children love their parents and what better time for them to show that love than with a special present. Simon would be easy to hide your intentions from, But Cathy is far more likely to sniff something out given a chance, Hopefully if that is what the children are planning they succeed, Cathy and Simon are the sort of parents any child would want....

We are having a few days break next week (with no Internet can you believe!!) at the coast, Hopefully the weather is kind and we can recharge the batteries, Not that it's going to be easy with a 20 month old toddler running around. So it's going to be a few days without finding out what is behind all the machevellian planning, Although I suppose I could always try to locate a MaccyD.. Now there's a thought.....

Kirri

Maccy D's

In my mind, Maccy D's hasn't served anything I consider food for the last twenty years, in fact, I call them McPuke's.

I shudder when I see people in one just shovelling the food down as if it were ambrosia. Yuck!

A Nice chapter

Thanks Angharad for another nice chapter.

May I also say thanks for seven episodes in the last seven days.To be more precise one every day for the last month or so. I hope you are managing to get some time for yourself in what must be a busy life.

Many Thanks

Love to all

Anne G.

Kids are teachers

Podracer's picture

and parents have to learn to survive their plots, and plot better. With the Cameron crew to deal with, manipulating a university should be child's play by now. The junior conspiracy is exciting, it had better not be too devastating this close to the holiday. Perhaps it may even be constructive, we can always hope.
You should have seen Simon's face. I could see it from here. You would think even he could manage not to feed the horde on dodgy diet items. Or maybe he would.
Cathy's gift shopping stresses me possibly more than it does her, hating the last minute city scene, preferring the long lead time approach and arm twisting for ideas.

"Reach for the sun."

No wonder

I like you, you have a twisted sense of humour as do I.
MacciDs

Cefin