Easy As Falling Off A Bike part 20

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Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by Angharad.
part 20. (I think)

We got back to the cottage and Stella paid off the taxi, she then offered me another drink, unwisely I accepted a small bottle of lager not thinking of needing the loo in an hour or two. However, I enjoyed it while it lasted and was nearly tempted to a second.

We made up a bed for me in the spare room, which looked quite comfortable then, Stella produced a nightdress I could borrow and she gave me a toothbrush. I had all I needed until the morning once she had showed me a towel I could use, in the bathroom.

The front door opened and Simon called out. My stomach jumped over and I fled for my bedroom hissing apologies to Stella and slamming the door shut. To my great relief it had a functioning lock, which I turned. I was safe, for the moment anyway.

I cleaned my teeth at the washbasin in my room, and rinsed my face and hands remembering too late I had no towel. Nothing was going to make me open the door until I had to and certainly not tonight.

I turned off the light in case it showed under the door, and changed into the nightie, it felt comfortable. I often wore them in bed at home, in the privacy of my own place - that sounded so grand, especially for a bedsit. I slipped into bed and prayed that Morpheus would attend soon and bring me a peaceful sleep. It was a wasted effort.

The bed was comfortable and I lay back and switched off the light. Suddenly, I was in pitch darkness save a small glow under the door from the light on the landing. As my eyes grew accustomed to the dark I found I could only see the glow under the door and my hand if I moved it before my face while looking at the door.

I was used to living in a town where street lights meant there was no darkness unless there was a power cut, so this was very different. I'm not scared of the dark like lots of people are, I just can't see in it and in a strange house, that could be dangerous, I could fall down the stairs or trip over something.

For a while I could hear voices and movement downstairs, then they came upstairs and my heart began thumping. All I could see were shadows passing my door from the glow underneath it, when eventually that ceased, I was truly in the dark, in all senses of that expression.

I lay there looking at the ceiling, well if I could have seen it, I would have been looking at it. Things went quiet and I thought I could relax, but then my mind went into overdrive.

Why is it that when our bodies malfunction or ignore us, we cope. We change things, eat more or less, exercise more or less and so on. When it's our minds that malfunction there is absolutely bugger all you can do. I know thousands of psychiatrists who would disagree as would most psychotherapists and counsellors and Uncle Tom Cobbley an' all, but my experience is different. Once my mind latches on to something, it worries it and me to death, examining it inside and out, upside down, microscopically and deconstructively (what ever that means), analysing and speculating until I am exhausted and my mind is bored or aching.

I tend to think that mind and brain are separate things, my brain is the motor and control box for my body, my mind is the driver and it should have had its licence rescinded years ago. If it had, I'd have been asleep, instead I was analysing and rerunning the day's events.

On one hand, I was lucky that Stella hadn't killed or hurt me more than a few cuts and bruises, I've had worse injuries telling next door's cat where to go - he's a huge marmalade thing who rules the area like a territorial lion. If there were sheep and cattle around, I'm sure he'd be hunting them instead of the pigeons and seagulls and occasional child, he kills and eats now. You interact with him at your own peril, even the postman won't deliver there, the cat's had him twice.

I remember seeing a big orange tom cat, like my neighbour's, on youtube, which chased a bear up a tree in the States, then when the bear came down, the cat 'treed' him again. When I saw it, I laughed out loud, which was incidentally a couple of weeks before I met the cat from hell when I moved into my 'apartment'.

He followed me in and unknown to me curled up in my suitcase and went to sleep. I was busy doing something else and when I went to pull some clothes out of my case to hang them up, the orange-peel demon nearly took my hand off. It was two hours before he decided to leave, and I had to wait it out. I did think about finding some sort of weapon and fighting him, but he'd probably have won in any case unless it had been a cycle race. How do I get him to accept that sort of challenge? I'll bet he'd know how to beat me then, the swine! Ach so, Englisher pig-cat!

I felt my bladder becoming fuller than was going to be comfortable before long. I tried to distract myself, then the nightmare began. I started to worry about my pride and joy and the logistics of getting it fixed together with wondering how I was going to get home, changed and into uni. It certainly distracted me, in fact I was almost driven to distraction!

I would have to be awake early enough to borrow some more stuff from Stella, maybe a pair of jeans and a top, and at the same time be able to find out what Simon was going to do about getting his car fixed and more importantly, my bike.

Given my luck so far, I was well worried. I played out scenarios that worked well and everything was fixed with minimum fuss. Why they were always subsumed by ones where it all went pear shaped, I don't know, but that seemed to be what happens in real life.

My bladder niggled and I tried to think of something else. I worried about being seen by others on my course or who knew me. All my neighbours knew me, seeing me out on my bike or walking about, hiding from the pig-cat or running away from him. If I went home with the new haircut and those boots, there would be some funny looks and perhaps remarks to accompany them. Then horror of horrors, how could I run away from the demon moggie in those boots? Even though he is grossly overweight for a hippopotamus, he has a fair acceleration on him, like a Ferrari on steroids! Okay, so he can't maintain it more than thirty or forty yards, neither could I in those boots.

My bladder niggled again. There was no doubt about it, I needed to pee and very soon or there would be an accident. I wondered about doing it down the washbasin. I can hear everyone groan from here, but people do it in hotels all the time if they don't have en suite.

I thought about it even more seriously, then realised the washbasin was too high for me, I'd spray it everywhere. I tried to visualise the washbasin, because I wondered about sitting on it and weeing down the plughole, but the configuration meant they would have to call a plumber to get the tap from up my bum!

There was only one thing for it, I'd have to go to the bathroom and soon! I shuffled out of bed and my bladder felt even more full, it was now verging on emergency. I stood up and holding my hands out in front of me like a sleepwalker, walked straight into the bedside cupboard and bashed my little toe. God, it hurt! I felt my eyes water and I was nearly sick.

I gingerly found one of the walls and edged my way around it until eventually, I found the door. In my haste to unlock it, I knocked out the key before it was undone and had to feel about the carpet for the cold piece of metal, then by feel reinsert it and open the door. I made it, bladder now reaching critical and close to exploding.

I remembered where the bathroom was and after bumping into a chest of drawers on the landing and knocking down something on top of it, I eventually found what I deemed to be the bathroom. After bashing my good foot on the pedestal of the toilet, I knew I was correct. My relief was immense and I quietly rinsed my hands and dried them, all in the dark. Then it was back to my room and back to bed.

I stole across the landing once again, and almost silently opened my door, locked it equally quietly and carefully moved towards the bed. I thought I had left the covers open, but in my haste, I was obviously wrong. I stepped into my still warm bed and felt a another body already there. I froze in panic as the sleeper began to stir!

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Episode 21 may be delayed because I am away tomorrow (watching a bike race!) Please send comments on a post card, with cheques payable to....

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Comments

Aahhhhrrrrggg!

That's sooooooo unbelievable! How can you be so cruel and being away watching a bike race, Angharad? That suspense is nearly killing me. I can hardly wait to get to know, who got into our 'heroines' bed. I even have a vague idea, but knowing you, I'm wrong again.

*huggles*
your impatiently waiting Saphira
--
>> There is not one truth only out there. <<

--
>> There is not one single truth out there. <<

OH!

You are soooo bad. Gawd, this isn't a cliff hanger. It's a an iceberg n front of a Titanic and you're leaving us hanging here with a blood curling scream only. Oh, the bloody nerve.
Get back now, and start writing, you, you, you. . Tease. Oowh!

Jo-Anne

Oops

kristina l s's picture

Can we say... wrong room?
I think I missed the bit where Cathy tripped over a black cat, stumbled under a ladder and cracked the mirrored plate glass shop front window. Probably had a flat at the same time... don't ya hate that.
Kristina
ps ... the cheque's in the mail. Would I lie?

Just one thing ...

... I would definitely have used the washbasin. It wouldn't be the first time. Used plastic bags too - at least my wife has when we've been cycle camping ;) Brits and Americans get too precious about perfectly normal human functions. Ever been at the start of a bike race in France? LOL

Of course I wouldn't then have gone to the wrong room ... and how boring the story would have been.

G

Brits and Americans get too

Brits and Americans get too precious about perfectly normal human functions.
Ever been at the start of a bike race in France? LOL

LOL. The gutter, a parked car or a tree is enough for those race girls. If you go-to-go then you go-to-go, just lift you shirt and drop your bips. Modesty isn't one of their virtues. Ever been in those races, jeesh, the girls are more 'vocal' (read: cursing) then the boys.

Angharad, I hope you had fun watching the race (which categories?) and looking forward to the next part. I have so much sympathies for our lead girl ... I would kill if somebody would mess with my carbon bike (any part of it).

Which bike race?

Angharad's picture

British National Men's Road Race Championship which was won by David Millar. Had a great day out with my daughter and the sun shone. Whoopee!

Angharad

Just realised it was in Wales ...

... after being cancelled earlier in Yorkshire because of the flooding. hmmm Abergavenny has fond memories for me - it was one of the stops on our honeymoon so many, many years ago. Glad you had sunny weather, and, I guess, so was Millar.

Geoff

In the US, too

In my one and only marathon, the Marine Corps Marathon of 1994 (the one where Oprah Winfrey was a participant), there were lines 30 - 40 deep for the port-o-potties, an unfortunate situation for the women, but for the men who gallantly relinquished the lines to the women, who brought it out and used it despite no appreciable cover, not so bad. Ah! There was strength in numbers that morning and pride in that male ability (I'm being only slightly facetious here) among those who persevered despite the disbelieving looks of a few of the women -- and I remember more than one desperate woman who likely had too much coffee took the opportunity as well. :)

Triathlons are different. The swim is the first event, and if one feels a sudden warmth in the water while you're waiting for the gun to go off, well, that's part of the atmosphere.

Aardvark

"Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony."

Mahatma Gandhi

"Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony."

Mahatma Gandhi

What a teasingly flirtacious wonderfull story

Angarhard on a scale of one to ten your pushing for eleven.Great writing great plot but your killing me with having to wait for the next delicious morsel.Thanks for the effort Amy m.PS I was in the US army and ran the Berlin marathon after a night of one to many and to little sleep luckily they had many restrooms along the way.Funny thing out of over 13,000 I still came in 2006th in just over 2 hrs with a half hour of pitstops.I'll never do that again drinking that much or running that far.Also for as far as American modesty you've never seen a bus load of infantrymen stopped for a pitstop on the side of the autobahn.In germany you just have to turn your back to the public.

Well, you *asked* for comments. That's the subject of this msg!

Angharad:

You are such a good writer! I'm up to episode 20 and it's so addictive. I'm supposed to be getting supper and getting ready to go out but I couldn't stop reading.

Thank you for sharing your talent with us lesser lights!

Now, I really have to go!!

Jenny Grier (Mrs.)

x

Yours from the Great White North,

Jenny Grier (Mrs.)

Have been enjoying your

Have been enjoying your story so far. It is witty, funny and really gives you a realism of life about becoming a woman when the person has been presenting as male all their life.
I like all your characters so far. Janice Lynn

Maybe I'm strange, but when

LibraryGeek's picture

Maybe I'm strange, but when in a strange place stumbling around at night, I turn on the bloody light before wandering down the hall to the loo, so I can see to find my way back. That's if I'm not sharing a room, if I'm sharing a room I try not to wake anyone else up.

But nooo, Cathy can't do that, so now she's lost. Took a wrong turn, she did. Ended up where she didn't mean to be. Hah!

Yours,

JohnBobMead

Yours,

John Robert Mead

wrong room

This is too good!