Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 889.

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Wuthering Dormice
(aka Bike)
Part 889
by Angharad

Copyright © 2010 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
  
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“I knew it,” I said loudly to myself.

“Knew whit?” asked Tom.

“Bloody Sussex–they couldn’t run a bath.”

“If I mind correctly, they could run things well enough tae gi’ ye a degree.”

“That proves my point, doesn’t it?” I said winking at him.

“Aye, if ye say so.”

“Daddy, I’m going to have to go there; if I drop the girls off to school, could you collect them–pretty please?”

“Och, I suppose sae, seein’ as ye’re on university business.” That was it settled, the day after tomorrow, I was going to travel to Sussex University–somewhere I didn’t expect to go again after I left there–least of all as a female.

Because there will be people who knew me still at the university, I would have to be careful about my appearance. Oh bugger, doesn’t this stuff ever end without my having to look over my shoulder all the time?

I mean they should have some idea, I’ve hardly hidden myself away, making a film for national TV. So why should I worry? A nice top and a pair of jeans should do.

“A ha’penny for them,” said Tom.

“Eh?”

“Ye’re thochts.”

“The usual rate is a penny,” I complained.

“Aye, but I’m a tight-fisted auld Caledonian, if ye mind.”

“I was thinking what I’d wear to go to Sussex.”

“Somethin’ tidy if ye’re representin’ ma university.”

“I’ve got some nice jeans somewhere.”

“Och, nae ye don’t, ye’ll wear a suit, preferably wi’ a skirt. I like my women staff tae look like women, no travellers.”

“Oh alright, I’ll wear a skirt suit, except I’ll look more like a rep than an ecology lecturer.”

“Ye’re representin’ the survey and ye’re hubby’s bank.”

“I’ve said I’ll dress tidily.”

“An ye’re a representative o’ the Scottish rulin’ classes tae.”

“But you’re a socialist.”

“Aye–I jes want them tae see whit a dinosaur looks like.” He dodged the magazine I threw at him.

I sent the email agreeing to the meeting at lunch time on the Friday. Thursday was busy, getting the kids ready, making food that Stella could warm up for them for dinner, getting all the papers ready for the meeting and sorting out what to wear.

On Thursday evening as I was checking my inbox, I saw one from Sussex, with luck they were going to cancel and reschedule. I opened the email and sighed. They wanted me to speak to their women’s group about making a film.

’Hi Cathy,

So glad you can make the mammal survey meeting–we’ll talk over lunch, I’ll get some sandwiches sent over.

As you’re making the trek here, any chance you could talk for a few minutes to our Women’s Group about the pros and cons of making wildlife films. The Dormouse was wonderful, and we’re already oversubscribed for places to hear you talk.

Thanks ever so,

Abi Alexander’

Why didn’t they ask about this in the beginning? Bloody wonderful–I had about half an hour to prepare for this and I had no idea how long they want me to talk. Then I remembered the disk of out-takes Alan had made for me, some of which were funny–perhaps the best was one of me walking backwards as I’m about to enter a woodland–it’s shot in infra red, and I fall backwards over a log I didn’t see. In another, I’m once again talking to camera and stepped into fresh air and fell head over heels down an embankment. Plus the infamous youtube clip, which half the population of Mars had probably seen by now.

I jotted down some notes and thought I could probably entertain them for half an hour or so, which with questions would probably fill all the time they want me to do. I’m by no means a charismatic speaker, but with the funnies, I should be able to get away with hiding my inadequacies. If not–they won’t ask me again–they probably won’t anyway.

Friday came and I was up, showered and dressed early–breakfast and packed lunches were ready for all those who took them. I gave Julie specific instructions about helping Stella and making sure they all did any homework they had to do–especially the boys. I also asked her to get the boys to read to her.

To myself, I made a note to talk to her when I got back about telling the boys about her and Trish. I would keep my own status hidden for now–revealing it would do little to improve things and I was feeling a little fragile about going to Sussex, anyway.

Tempting providence, I wore the suit to drop the girls off, then drove on towards Brighton–Sussex University is a few miles up the road from there, and the closer I got, the bigger the butterflies became. By the time I saw the signs to the university, the butterflies were about the size of Atlas moths and I felt physically sick.

This felt almost like coming out again for the first time. I checked my hair and makeup–they were fine and a little boost to my perfume--Coco by Chanel, also boosted my confidence a little.

I stepped out of the car donning the pink jacket over the grey blouse, then picked out my handbag from inside the car, and my laptop bag with its pockets full of paper, which was quite heavy.

I was early, but that’s better than being late. Unless they’d changed things, I knew my way around the campus and the visitor’s permit felt strange to display in the car.

I walked towards the John Maynard Smith building–where I’d spent many hours–in fact I’d walked down this path often enough, but never in a skirt before. It reminded me of the novelty of this event and how it could either be good or bad. If anyone said anything unhelpful, I’d go straight for the jugular–I’d been the butt of many jokes before with my lack of masculinity, I wasn’t going to take it anymore.

With trembling legs I entered the building which had a strange familiar feel about it and spoke to reception. “Ah, Miss Watts, you’re early–would you like a coffee or something while you wait?”

“If I could have access to the meeting room, I’d like a few minutes to organise myself anyway–set up my laptop and so on–oh and the coffee would be most welcome.”

“Of course–this way.” She took me down familiar corridors.

“God, is that still here?” I asked looking at photograph which looked awful the first time I’d seen it.

“You’ve been here before, then?”

“Just a few times–I was an undergrad here.”

“Oh goodness–hopefully the coffee’s better.”

“Oh good,” I smiled and blushed at the same time.

I was actually busy with my computer–with luck I’d be able to deal with all the matters they’d raised, without looking too stupid–if I did, I’d just explain I was a product of this place. I didn’t hear the door open or close.

“Cathy Watts, or is it Cameron now–I presume?” I spun around from the desk, nearly dropping a sheaf of notes I had on my lap.

“Abi Alexander, how good to see you again–still as beautiful as ever.” I offered my hand. She was a statuesque blonde, with Scandinavian cheekbones and pointed chin.

“Wow, this is an improvement to that scrawny kid”–she walked around me, “nice suit, what a change, but you know, it makes a lot of things fit into place. Your previous incarnation just had no substance–this feels right. I’m glad you’ve found yourself at last.”

“Thanks, I hope so–if not it’s too late to put the bits back.”

She looked confused for a moment, then sniggered–“Your sense of humour hasn’t improved.”

“No, Simon says it’s awful.”

“Who’s Simon?”

I showed the rings on my finger.

“My God, you’re married–wow–you have found yourself.”

“Like I said, I hope so.”

We continued chatting and then the others came in for the meeting. Including lunch, I managed to sort everything out in two hours. I could relax for a couple of hours–my talk wasn’t until six–so I had time to go and visit Lizzie and her baby, Sophie.

The jaunt to the university had gone as well as I could have hoped–they were a mixed group–two men and three women, all dressed casually as university teachers do–I stood out somewhat, in dress primarily–but I was also the youngest there.

The men Baz Beaumont and Jim Crawford were teaching when I was a student but they didn’t recognise me, and Abi had said she wouldn’t remind them of my past life. The other women were new, so it wasn’t so much an issue.

I got out the directions to Lizzie’s house and started the car–I was actually looking forward to seeing her again, I hoped it was mutual and that her friendliness wasn’t just politeness. Oh well–one way to find out. I let out the clutch and set off for her house.

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Comments

I would just hope that Cathy

I would just hope that Cathy would put it right into the faces of those teachers and other facualty members at the Uni who used to give her a bad time. It would be well deserved. Jan

Cathy has made her place in the world of

biology research and should feel confident in herself but I know the feeling of going back to a place were your status was lowest of the low and feeling uncertain even after many years.

Hope the rest of the visit goes well and she gets a confidence boost.

and talking about degrees

Is Cathy ever going to finish hers ?

Would be funny if she gets an honorary doctorate for her survey and TV work before actually finishing her degree.

At least

a nice, settled episode. Other than the getting ready preparations, and the butterflies, and the feelings of inadequacy.

I also have a tick in the back of the mind about why she is going to out Julie and Tish when she gets home. Unless I misunderstood and she has decided to do that when she needs to.

So after all the Butterflies

it turns out there was nothing to worry about at all, I must admit reading the chapter i was expecting something to go wrong at any moment!.... But i guess after recent events in Cathy's life i'm just kind of expecting the unexpected!!....Anyway it's nice to have quiet episode or two...Gives my nerves time to recover!!!

Kirri

Bike pt 889.

Me, I love the banter tween Cathy and Tom. THAT is something that we haven't seen, till now.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Continuity

Beverly Taff

Yes it's usually awful to have to back to a place that you left long ago after changing lifestyle, especially if there are unresolved issues.

I hope Cathy really puts it to them and presents a really good talk/lecture/presentation.

Knock em dead girl!

My gut feeling is that this post is a connecting bar to lay the framework and groundwork for the next exciting evet.

Love & Hugs,
Beverly

Beverly Taff.
This is wierd. I haven't changed my password but the site wont dispayl all my thingies at the side like 'Submit Story'!

Not quite home

I get the feeling not all the memories are unpleasant there. At least I hope not. It would be funny if a prof was sure he knew here, but could place it.