Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 940.

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Wuthering Dormice
(aka Bike)
Part 940
by Angharad

Copyright © 2010 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
  
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Dinner passed without further ado, and Julie and I cleared up while the rest of my brood did their various homework. Meems had to write the numerals from one to ten and show me how many fingers that involved. We did it once I’d cleared the table and had the dishwasher going.

Danny had some more advanced arithmetic to do and as he seemed competent, I left him to do it. Billy had an essay to write, so after discussing some ideas about how he could write it–Watching a sporting event, I moved on to Trish and Livvie who worked together. They were like Siamese twins, both producing identical work because it was co-authored. They had to write down their favourite nursery rhyme, so we had endless recitations of all those they could remember.

In the end, I had to insist they chose one–preferably not a long one, as neither was a very quick writer–hardly surprising at five years old. I steered them towards Humpty Dumpty, which they thought was sad until I explained it was about a cannon which was stood on the walls of Oxford, a city in the hands of Royalists during the English Civil War, and which fell off, and being cast iron, smashed.

And all the kings horses and all the kings men, couldn’t put Humpty together again.

They both decided they suddenly liked it and wrote it down, which took them ages. I did a quick proof read for them and surprisingly, they both copied it accurately.

I managed to get them all to bed eventually and after the story rounds and a chat with Julie about sexuality–I got downstairs, poured myself a glass of Rioja and sat at the kitchen table reflecting on the conversation with Julie.

“Mummy, what if Leon gets fed up with me not being a real girl?”

“There’s nothing I can do, sweetheart, if he does–he does. It happens.”

“Maybe I should talk to Siân about lesbianism?”

“I suspect she’ll be able to give you more about it than I can. I’m not aware that it happens in dormice.”

She laughed at my comment about dormice. “What if I’m bi?”

“What if you’re not?” I almost echoed.

“What would I do, Mummy?”

“How do I know? Raise it with Stephanie the next time you see her.”

“But you’re my mother.”

“Your foster mother, Julie–I’ve only known you a couple of months or so.”

“Yeah, but you like, understand me better than, you know who.”

“Are you asking or telling?”

“I’m not sure–bit of both, I s’pose.”

“I have insights from another perspective, but don’t write her off–most parents do what they consider to be the best job they can for their children.”

“Well you’ve like, done far more for me than she ever did.”

“For one part of your being, maybe–she got you to sixteen, so she can’t have done too bad a job.”

“Huh, you weren’t there when I wanted a nurse’s uniform and she hit me for being stupid.”

“Oh–that was unfortunate.” I wasn’t entirely against corporal punishment, it sometimes had a place, but so far it hadn’t been necessary with my kids. Normally withholding my approval or expressing disappointment was enough to make them quite repentant–even Julie.

Unfortunate–she was nasty about it. The uniform had a white apron with a red cross on the bib, and blue cape and white nurse’s hat. She told me that seeing as I liked the red cross so much, she’d give me one on my bottom. She smacked me with a cane, making the shape of a cross, and it was red and sore for days.”

“Okay; that was nasty and unnecessary if I understand you correctly.”

“What shall I do about Leon, Mummy?”

“Has he told you he doesn’t want to see you?”

“No.”

“Well, until he does or his body language tells you, I’d continue as you are. I suspect he’s hardly got a reputation as a Casanova.”

“Who?”

“Geez, girl, didn’t they teach you anything at school–Casanova the great Venetian lover of the eighteenth century.”

“What he came from the planet Venus?”

“No, you nit, from Venice. Venusians come from Venus–or would if there were any to come from there. In an atmosphere of sulphuric acid, they’d have to be pretty hardy, wouldn’t they?”

“I guess so.”

“Siân and Kirsty are coming for dinner on Saturday, so I want to make a good impression on them–so don’t let them do anything off the wall to your hair while you’re at the salon, will you?”

“Okay, Mummy–then I didn’t like know they were gonna do that last week.”

I eventually got downstairs and poured the glass of wine I mentioned before, Stella came down with some more dirty nappies and poured herself a glass after dumping the nappies in the bucket to soak in the nappy cleaner.

“Did I hear you inviting that rancid lesbo to dinner with her ‘orrible partner?”

“I invited Siân and Kirsty to dinner, yes. If you don’t like the company you don’t have to come.”

“Oh that’s great! Excluded from my own dinner table by her.

“No, you’re excluding yourself–I’m the hostess here, if you want to complain, talk to Tom.”

“Okay, I will.” She strode out to Tom’s study and went in. I heard muffled but loud voices and she came out with a face like thunder. “If I choose to stay in on Saturday evening, I’ll eat separately.”

“Fine–if you choose to cook it, you can eat what you like.”

“So you would exclude me?”

“No, you’re welcome to dine with us.”

“Not with that Welsh dragon woman.”

“That’s up to you.”

“It wasn’t you who got hit upon.”

“No–it wasn’t, but neither was it I who got blotto and could barely remember who she was.”

“How did you know that?”

“I’ve seen it since, Stella–I know you–so stop all this protesting and grow up.”

“F’geddit, I’ll cook my own dinner on Saturday.”

“Fine–just keep out of my way.”

“Why–what’re ya gonna do?”

“Will you stop acting like a ten year old?”

“I can’t believe you are talking to me.”

“Yeah, reality never was your strongpoint was it?”

“How dare you?” I saw her hand move and dodged the wine before it hit me.

“I hope you’re going to clean that up?” I said firmly.

“Get stuffed.” She turned on her heel and went upstairs.

I cleaned up the mess and fumed at her childishness. As I was doing so, Tom wandered in. “Whit’re ye daein?”

“Cleaning up some spilt wine–why?”

“Why is Stella sae riled at yer dinner party?”

“She thinks Siân once made a pass at her while they were both drunk.”

“She’s makin’ an awfu fuss o’er it?”

“I agree–perhaps, the lady doth protest too much?”

“Aye mebbe?” With that he washed his glass and went off to bed–or his ‘pit’ as he sometimes calls it.

I sat on my own drinking a second glass of wine worrying what sort of fireworks might happen on Saturday. It would probably all be a damp squib, but what if it wasn’t? If Stella shows me up by a childish interruption–I’ll be very cross with her: it’s going to be hard enough trying to keep the kids in check–although I hope Siân will have enough of a sense of humour to cope with it. All I need is Meems saying in a loud voice–“Woss a wesbian, Mummy?”

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Comments

Agree

Seems like Stella is a bit too sensitive about being hit on. I wonder .....

Have to laugh at Julie - typical teen.

Bike pt 940

Oh My! Just what is Bonzi cooking up for that dinner? Looks as f we'll learn a bit about Stella.

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

you know who

do i hear an "avada cadavra" coming?

More likely…

to be a bottle of tonic water by Sch… you know who! in that household. I know Tom prefers his wee Dram, but I’m sure someone in the household drinks G & T—Stella perhaps, or maybe even Kiki?

But then again, you might not remember the Schweppes adverts back in the sixties—or was it the seventies?

Which reminds me, my G&T time approaches, so maybe I'd better wave my wand and say “Abra Cadabra”, comparatively harmless provided one does not overdo it. ;-)

Gabi.


“It is hard for a woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs.” Thomas Hardy—Far from the Madding Crowd.

Gabi.


“It is hard for a woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs.” Thomas Hardy—Far from the Madding Crowd.

Humpty Dumpty

Puddintane's picture

Unfortunately, the primary source of evidence for this charming theory is the Colchester Tourist Board, pointing out the attractive tourist destinations around the town, and the most direct evidence, two verses "found" by a Colchester partisan in a nameless book now (sadly) vanished, are patent forgeries.

http://bshistorian.wordpress.com/2008/10/11/putting-the-dump...

One of the links in the above story reveals that a rival location for the faux "Humpty Dumpty" cannon was at Llancaiach Fawr Manor in Wales so, as a patriot, Cathy should at least have pointed out that the unimaginative English were all about stealing good Welsh stories again.

Cheers,

Puddin'

-

Cheers,

Puddin'

A tender heart is an asset to an editor: it helps us be ruthless in a tactful way.
--- The Chicago Manual of Style

Woss a wesbian?

Puddintane's picture

Cathy and Stella both seem to have forgotten part 349:

“I’ve done some real thinking over the past few weeks and decided that I’ve been in denial, I’m a lesbian and I fancy you!”

It was a windup, but still….

And then there was part 14, in which the naïve Cathy thinks that Stella's a predatory lesbian:

Could she be a rabid lesbian?

Cathy also seems to have forgotten being hit upon by Simon's bisexual step-mother, Monica, so Stella's not the only one with a convenient memory.

Cheers,

Puddin'

-

Cheers,

Puddin'

A tender heart is an asset to an editor: it helps us be ruthless in a tactful way.
--- The Chicago Manual of Style

I can't remember

Angharad's picture

what I had for dinner, let alone a year or so ago. I just writes 'em, I don't like, read 'em - too many big words.

Angharad

Angharad

Hint, hint...

Not all of us (Angharad included) have an eidetic memory, and frequently either forget that certain events occurred at all, or forget when they occurred. Heck, my memory's like a sieve - especially for anything remotely useful [1].

Which is why I started the chapter summary spreadsheet (Plug, plug!)...

http://spreadsheets.google.com/ccc?key=0Av-BF-z4INZUdE1SMTY3...

It should be open to all to edit (hint, hint) - just because I created it, doesn't mean I should be the sole content provider (hint, hint)...

-oOo-

Anyway, if the author herself can't remember what a character said several months / years ago, it's fairly probable that the character wouldn't either!

-oOo-

[1] So why I'm following at least a dozen serials on BCTS, plus nearly half a dozen active stories in Whateley Canon, plus a similar number in Whateley Fanfic, I don't know...
 


There are 10 kinds of people in the world - those who understand binary and those who don't...

As the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, then only left-handers are in their right mind!

Forgetting Stuff

Well said Angharad.

Forgetting about past names, places, dates and other assorted scenarios and what-have-you is bloody difficult unless the author keeps some bloody tedious log to which she (or he) can refer to with monotonous frequency.
I've mixed up a few identites in Skipper (Thankfully nobody seems to have noticed,) and it makes it flippin' impossible to go back and correct stuff cos' it accumulates exponentially through the text or story.

(Oops; perhaps I shouldn't have mentioned that! Now I suppose some persistent 'text-hound' will go obssesively back through all the chapters to find the mistake.)

There are no prizes if anybody does spot it!!!

If there's a mistake, let it lie. Why should anybody complain? The stories are free anyway!

Keep writing Angharad,

It's all about enjoyment.

And I'm certainly enjoying it.

XOXO.

Bev.

bev_1.jpg

Bonzi the memory cat

so that's where you keep all your data! Good to see Stella reverting to type; should make for an interesting dinner party. Chicken portions at 10 paces?

Susie

It could be

as far as Stella and Siân are concerned, That there was no smoke without fire!

Kirri

Poor Little Rich Girl

I'm personally tired of Stella being a misery-guts all the time. She's young, intelligent, pretty, rich, and has fuck-all (that means none) of a sex life. She's hyper-sensitive on the subject of lesbianism and has made zero effort at either dating or just socializing in mixed company for months now.

Yes, she's somewhat still in mourning for Des. Yes, she has an infant to care for. But, at this point, aren't those mainly just excuses? Des has been gone well over a year, and Stella knows that she wasn't even his first love in life -- that was Cathy. Lil' Puddin' is more than capable of being looked after by a baby sitter or a nanny, which Stella can well afford. So, what's going on? Why is Stella a crabby, miserable, voluntary shut-in?

We know that Stella has demonstrated physical affection for Cathy before, complicated, of course by Cathy's relationship with Simon, and the animated sibling rivalry between Stella and Simon -- quite the odd triangle.

The theory that Stella is in denial about her own sexuality would fit some of the symptoms here. Perhaps her exposure to Sian and Kirsty's relationship will trigger something. I imagine it won't be pretty at first. I picture a totally sloshed Stella making either rude remarks, or a theatrically vengeful flamboyant pass at Sian's girlfriend, or both.

After the ashes cool down, perhaps Stella will twig as to what's REALLY been stuffed up in her heart, and start to become the healthy woman she was meant to be. Going out, socializing, dating... and DATING (wink, wink)! A little more love and happiness in the house couldn't be a bad thing. As an alternate, perhaps Stella will fall in love and form a family with her new lover, in a house of their own. This will, of course, make more room for whichever strange character is next to join Cathy's household!

Good Heavens Macduff!

Maybe she was like the Katy Perry song and she "LIKED IT!" Maybe Stel is a deeply repressed Lesbian? Well, maybe not, as hard as she fell for Des.

Gwen

Once Again, I'm Caught Up

and once again, I can't think of anything intelligent to say. So I won't say anything.

(But I've already said something! Yes, but it wasn't intelligent so it's OK. Oh.)

Yours from the Great White North,

Jenny Grier (Mrs.)

x

Yours from the Great White North,

Jenny Grier (Mrs.)

Meems

Actually, most people prefer the honest curiosity and openness of a child. If Meems did cut loose, I suspect there would be humor, followed by gentle explanations. You can be sure there were no hidden agendas or meanness there, just real curiosity, possibly followed by hugs.

Does Stella like women? maybe, ask Angharad

Stella has scared Cathy on at least two occasions that I remember.
Maybe she did have a one nighter with Sian, so what.
Is that why she over compensates by getting pregnant, twice

Cefin