Easy As Falling Off a Bike pt 3113

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The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike, est. 2007)
Part 3113
by Angharad

Copyright© 2017 Angharad


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.

That evening after dinner, Cindy came over and we had another sewing bee. I had loads of other things I could have been doing but I find sewing relatively relaxing, unless I stab myself with the needle and after the day I’d had some rest and recuperation looked a useful aim.

Simon called later on to say that the Russians were still attempting to damage the bank’s website but so far Sammi had kept them out and had managed to return fire once or twice, sending malware back to the hacker. I’ve heard Trish talking about some of Sammi’s work and her offensive programs are very sophisticated, so much so that most hackers wouldn't realise they’d been bitten back until their computers went down which might happen days later. It was also self contained, so didn’t propagate onto other computers, just the one which attacked Sammi.

Simon also told me that the Security Service were definitely interested in her and there’d been a couple of emails, telephone messages and one letter which requested a meeting with her from some Lt. Colonel someone or other, he couldn’t remember who, but it was a woman, which surprised him most.

“It happens, women are allowed to drive cars, vote and even have babies, it is the nineteenth century you know. Even Charles Darwin said that women had brains similar to animals, he just forgot to name the animal or the insect that was analogous to men’s brains.”

“So the next time I say, ‘You’re an animal,’ it could be considered Darwinian.” He threw back at me.

“I know you’re a busy bee, and I’d better go and see what Meems is up to, last time she used my sewing machine she sewed herself to the table cloth.”

“I am a busy bee, at last some recognition.”

“Indeed, darling. The only fly in that ointment keeping to things entomological, is that male bees are called drones. Byeeee.” I clicked off and sniggered, until I discovered Meems had sewn her top to the material she was trying to put darts in. It looked like it would take an hour or more to detach the two, or three, her vest got sewn too in places. She is a disaster with a needle and thread.

I finally managed to separate her from her sewing project, Danni and Cindy smirking to each other as they listened in to me talking to Meems as I worked on releasing her. When she started to sniff a little I reminded her that some of the world’s most beautiful models have been sewn into dresses—I didn’t add that it was deliberate as there was nowhere to put a zip.

“When is this soccer international?”

“Wednesday week, why?”

“You’ll have to ask the school to release you for the day, your parents to grant permission for you to play and to bunk off school and your dad for being available to take you.”

“You said you would.”

“I have meetings all day that Wednesday. You were supposed to let me know which day. Daddy is up in London, so he could probably sneak a couple of hours off to watch you.”

“Sister Maria said she was going to organise a coach trip to support me.”

“Just for her?”

“Don’t be daft, a school trip.” She rolled her eyes and Cindy snorted and had to wipe her nose.

“Ah you going on da school twip, Daniewwe?” asked our very own Vivienne Westwood.

“Yeah Meems, you could say I am.”

“Have a nice time,” she said completely unaware of what was going on.

While this surreal experience was occurring I sent Si a text telling him that Danni’s match was the Wednesday of next week. I had one back saying he’d try and get there and so would Henry. That would give her a boost. I’d love to go but I have nowhere to shove the meetings we’d scheduled and it would take a couple of hours to get to Wembley from here except by broomstick and I don’t know if the others can fly.

I helped Cindy with some more of her project, which was nearly finished, just a question of over sewing the hems and reminding her of how to hem a garment. I got to do fifteen minutes of my own sewing—mending some of the girls’ school clothing and a couple of Tom’s shirts. Sometimes I feel like an auld fashioned wifey, sitting by thae fire and daein’ ma mendin’.

“Watts you will do my mending and darn my socks as long as you persist in looking like a girl—at least I’m indulging you, you might as well practise your girly skills, you fairy.” Murray dumped a whole pile of clothing in my lap while the rest of my class fell about laughing.

“It’s not fair, I’ve got homework to do,” I complained to Mr Samuels the Latin teacher.

He rebuffed me, “Well, Charlotte, you’ll just have to give up some of your beauty sleep, won’t you. I’ve got some socks that need doing too,” with that he took off his shoes and threw his still warm, smelly socks at me and one hit me in the face. I struggled to push it away and felt something warm and soft alongside me.

I awoke from my dream to a purring, warm and furry body which plonked itself down next to me and curled up. The thought of darning Murray’s or Samuel’s socks made me want to retch. Thankfully, lying curled round the cat, stroking her gently took away the nastiness of my dream and I soon went off to sleep again.

At about ten to seven, I awoke with something perched on my head. I put my hand up and a paw poked it and she purped at me—a sort of welcoming miaow. Now I was awake my first duty was to feed her.

I got out of bed and she followed me purring until I went to the bathroom rather than downstairs and she had the pleasure of watching my naked body hop into the shower. She nearly followed me darting back from the jet of water just in time. By the time I’d dried myself and then my hair, she was sitting on the bed washing herself. Dressing in a suit and blouse for a change, once I’d found a pair of tights that didn’t have holes or were stretched long enough to fit someone with legs about ten foot long, I slipped on my boots and the cat accompanied me to wake the girls for yet another fun packed school day. It was as I did this I suddenly realised it was half term next week—damn it, we’d all go and watch Danni play. All I had to do was talk Diane into cancelling all those meetings. Perhaps if I bought some cakes on the way into work—yeah, I know good old fashioned bribery and corruption, but if it works for BAe Systems or was it Rolls Royce—it’ll work for me.


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