Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 2647

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The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike, est. 2007)
Part 2647
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.
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Poor old Simon muttered to himself for several minutes unable to see me smirking as I was facing away from him. He cuddled into the back of me and went off to sleep before I did. Nothing much keeps him awake, including once or twice being involved in supposedly pleasuring his wife—in other words the lazy sod fell asleep on the bloody job, my pleasure unmet. In all fairness he offered to finish the job the next night but I’d gone off the idea by then and it gave me a stick to poke him with.

Don’t get me wrong, we love each other—I love him and he says the same about me—and we’re good friends too; but there is a need to fight one’s own corner, so to speak, including sexual needs and rights. He’s quite vocal about his, I’m much quieter because I suspect my needs are less—or less frequent. Gosh, I’m blushing even thinking about this—jeez, I’m thirty one and still embarrassed by sex. I don’t consider myself a prude or anything but thinking about it or worse, talking about it makes me glow hotter than a sun spot. Though I admit I have needs and sometimes that’s just for a kiss and cuddle and sometimes for something more energetic. Can you believe that after turning a blind ear or a deaf eye to Simon’s suggestion—I only pretended to be dead—I fell asleep thinking about sex and wishing I’d perhaps done so earlier. It did cross my mind to wake him but knowing my luck I’d just be coming up to simmer when he finished and fell asleep again.

I didn’t wake up thinking about sex, it was more fundamental than that, I wondered what day it was as my consciousness began to surface from the depths of sleep. I could have done with another hour—no make that five or six—of sleep, but it was my turn to get Lizzie up. I’m no longer breast-feeding her she’s on cow’s milk now plus solids, but most mornings she wakes up sodden. She drinks quite a bit and what goes in must come out and it does, despite two terry towelling nappies, she almost floats in her own cot.

Checking she was still asleep, I quickly showered and dressed before quietly waking the school girl contingent and the workers. While they were sorting themselves I got Lizzie from her cot and washed and changed her in my en suite. By the time I’d dressed her the others were washed and dressed in school uniforms—it must be Monday morning again—bugger, I had a full schedule today of meetings about funding and other exciting things. Still someone has to do it and they pay me according to the amount of boredom I have to suffer, or at times it seems that way. However, after I caused mayhem in the accounts department, they tend to treat me more respectfully—well that’s how it comes across, it might just be plain fear as I don’t take prisoners—been mucked about too often.

After breakfast, during which Julie let drop they were signing a lease on a bigger shop, they shot off with embarrassed giggles before I could ask any questions—too busy shovelling porridge down Lizzie. I began to realise how a stoker felt on board an old fashioned steamer. Can this girl eat? It’s like having a captive blue whale at the table.

The others, except Cate, feed themselves, even making toast—we have a large toaster which can do six slices at once—so my lot eat plenty of it. I buy thick sliced wholemeal and we get through a loaf a day besides what we make in the bread machine. As Lidl, the German discount store is currently charging under sixty pence for a large sliced loaf, I’ve been buying them there recently. The rest of them aren’t complaining, so I assume they like the bread. I bought a new cycling helmet there the other week, seems okay and half the price of one from the internet. Okay, it doesn’t boast the designer names like Met or Specialized or Bell, but it does the same job.

Delia made me a cuppa as soon as I arrived which helped me recover from the fright of a near miss in the car. Some nice person in something called a Q5 cut me up at a roundabout and I nearly ended up on the blessed roundabout. I didn’t get his number. I say his, but it could have been a woman driving, they seem as aggressive as the men these days. By the time I got my car in the right lane to come on to the university, suffering unsympathetic honks from other drivers who seemed to delight in condemning me, I was very hot and bothered. The cuppa did help me calm down.

I went to get a file I’d left in the car when in the next row was the Q5. I recognised it because it had a dent on the nearside bumper and wheel arch—I had a good look at it while it was trying to run me off the road. I was sure it was the same car. I took the number and asked Delia to see if it was registered to anyone working at the university.

The meeting with the accountants over and the result being a draw, I considered it a good outcome, I didn’t lose any funding or have to make further cuts; when Delia handed me a slip of paper. The car was owned by a computer consultant who was working with the IT department. As we fund some of their services and had half an hour before my next meeting, I took myself over to our computer department.

One of their secretaries pointed out the man, a bloke of about forty, tall, fat and balding who was in a meeting with one of the IT post grads. I interrupted their meeting, standing in front of the slob with the Audi. “Yes?” he said.

“The next time you drive dangerously anywhere near me, I shall report you to the police.”

“What are you on about?”

“That’s your Q5 in the car park?”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“You came in from the Gosport direction?”

“Yeah, so did half a million others.”

“Well the others didn’t try to kill me at a roundabout because they were in the wrong lane and almost forced me off the road.”

“Look, I don’t know who you are, lady, but butt out. I’m having a meeting here.”

“I was driving quite happily before you tried to kill me, so don’t come the old soldier, you arrogant road hog.”

He stood up and was only a couple of inches taller than I was, although I had heels on. “Piss off.” He said and I could smell garlic on his breath.

“I’m going—jeez—your breath stinks nearly as much as your driving.”

As I left I heard him ask, “Who’s the old tart with the twisted knickers?”

“I’d say a big problem,” replied the student.

“Yeah, why’s that?”

“She’s the professor of biological sciences and probably a director of your bank.”

Back in my office, I sent James an email with a car number on it and told him to get his spade and do some digging. I wonder how much debt he’s in, our macho driver?

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Comments

Q5 - It could be worse...

persephone's picture

It could have been a Porsche…

In the UK only about 15% of 4x4 (SUV) drivers have ever done any more adventurous off-roading than mounting the kerb (sidewalk) outside their apartment.
It's always lovely to see Cathy in a domestic setting, thank you Ang (although I'm sure the body count will soon catch up).

Persephone

Non sum qualis eram

Go For It Cathy

littlerocksilver's picture

He's needs a wake-up. I've called the state police numerous times about aggressive drivers, speeders, and conveyors of road rage. I've had several pulled over; however, I doubt it did much good. It's just nice to see them inconvenienced. A pet peeve of mine is the radio stations warning drivers about radar locations. I don't want them warned. I want them, the speeders, caught and ticketed.

Portia

Missing the point.

Hi Portia.
You seem to be missing the point of speed camera/radar locations. They are meant to be located in accident blackspots to make drivers slow down. If drivers know the locations, they often do slow down or risk fines.
It's no good being able to say, "well that driver killed 4 people, but at least he got a speeding ticket."

Au Contraire

littlerocksilver's picture

Letting people know about radar, which moves all over in the US, does nothing to change driving habits. Numerous times I see drivers slow (make that slam on the brakes) down when they see a State Trooper's car along side the highway, then speed up as soon as they are out of sight. All those announcements do is encourage hypocrisy. Those drivers need to be stopped, punished, and forced to change their driving habits. Announcing radar sites does nothing but encourage hypocrisy. It does nothing to create safe drivers. I drive 25,000 to 30,000 miles a year in Arkansas. I've seen it all. The only thing to do with unsafe drivers is to hit them where it hurts. I have absolutely no sympathy for them. We don't have the surveillance that the UK has. Our drivers are rude, crude, and for the most part unsafe. I am a safety consultant. Safe conduct is seldom self-initiated. It has to be taught and enforced from above. It starts with good training, which unfortunately seldom comes from daddy teaching junior how to drive. The US does not have a monopoly on bad drivers, but in pure numbers, we have no equals.

Portia

You're assuming....

that the reason radar and camera speed traps exist is solely for safety.

More and more often, law enforcement treats these tools like revenue generators much more than for "safety."

Let Them Generate Revenue

littlerocksilver's picture

That is fine with me. All I am saying is that they have little or no direct affect on safety. Fine the speeding SOB's until they're broke. If people don't speed, there is no need for monitoring drivers' speeds. People who bitch about speed traps are more the problem. If they didn't speed, the problem would be moot. Get them off the highway.

Portia

What's with Cathy these days?

Seems to be looking for trouble. (although I can't help but remember the times I've wished I could do something to some a$$ who cut me off or other nastiness)

Bet the Q5 driver

is starting to panic a little .... If he isn't he really should be .... Whats the odds the car is on finance , Wonder how he would feel about driving around in a beat-up Fiat 500, Maybe he ought to find out , In future it could be a choice between that or finding out just how good! bus services are...

Kirri

If it is on finance

Shouldn't it have full coverage and have had the damage fixed? or was the damage caused in a hit run with bodily injury. It would be just like Angharad to do that to us. Too devious and twisty a mind by far!

Bet the Q5 driver

is starting to panic a little .... If he isn't he really should be .... Whats the odds the car is on finance , Wonder how he would feel about driving around in a beat-up Fiat 500, Maybe he ought to find out , In future it could be a choice between that or finding out just how good! bus services are...

Kirri

If I were Cathy.....

D. Eden's picture

I'd be more pissed off about the "old tart" comment than about the near miss on the road.

I pity the man who refers to me that way. This "old tart" has a federal concealed carry permit and a Colt M1911 .45 caliber with her.

D. Eden

Dum Vivimus, Vivamus

Does seem like Cathy

is getting into more fights. She had better be careful, lest they gang up on her.

Just This Morning...

jengrl's picture

I was at a 4 way stop around the corner from my house and this driver acted like a stop sign never existed. I had the right of way and fortunately, I hadn't moved from my spot at the corner of the intersection when he just turned the corner and went right on without a care in the world!

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This morning's commute

Two left hooks avoided (car overtakes and immediately turns into a side road; both personalised plate 4WD penis substitutes) but before that was the kicker. Bright sunny morning, me in fluorescent jacket, taking third exit at a roundabout. Thank dog I was hugging the centre; the car that brushed my elbow was that close to killing me.

I caught him at lights a half mile further, where we had a frank exchange of views* before I went into Waitrose for a shaking fit and a free cuppa.

*For a given value of 'exchange'; it involved me screaming into his face. I was rather shaken. He looked shocked and just drove off. I took his number.

I drive a white tranny van.

Yeah! I know the dreaded 'White-van-man' but the dash-cam demonstrates there are as many idiot car drivers as van drivers. But white-van-man sure makes the idiots sit up and take notice.

Same thing goes if one has a helmet cam on the bike but always remember to try and look at the number plate. With hard evidence most police are more than keen to pursue bad drivers cos' they usually have to 'pick-up-the-pieces' when the morons crash.

bev_1.jpg

Haven't been attacked lately

And, these days my driving is more sedate. Those who are not patient usually just insanely storm around my car, sometimes making rude gestures at me. Lately, I have started to wonder if it is wise or practical to even own a car. It is costing me almost as much to own a car as my rent is.