Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 422.

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Bike 422.
by Angharad

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462full.jpg

Simon phoned later that afternoon, he’d spoken with the clinic and Stella had settled in reasonably well, they were however, keeping a careful watch on her given her suicidal impulses. He told them, if she succeeded in harming herself, they had better check their insurance cover because he would sue and demand so large a compensation it would keep their great grandchildren in poverty.

“Gosh, Si, you can sound really threatening when you want to.”

“I wasn’t joking, I would clean them out.” His voice sounded flat and menacing, a side of him I didn’t know. I knew he was capable of violence, the man who stabbed me found out by eating a bottom bracket. Then, I was no angel, I had set out to deliberately hurt men with my little bow and arrows. I wasn’t proud of it, and I hoped I should never need to do such a thing again.

“I shall try and get to see her at the weekend.” It would mean having less time with Simon, but I felt I needed to see her.

“The clinic is suggesting no visitors for a couple or three weeks, and then just Dad and Monica.”

“Oh! So when can I see her?” I was taken aback by this pronouncement, and felt hurt. If it wasn’t for me, she might already be with her ancestors.

“Don’t worry, as soon as you can go, I’ll get them to let you know.”

“I feel so guilty being the one who got her admitted again.”

“You did the right thing, she may not appreciate it at the moment, but you probably saved her life again.”

“Can we get together at the weekend?” I began to wonder if I should see any one at this rate.

“Of course, Babes, of course. I shall come to you on Friday evening–how’s that?”

“Brilliant, I’ll make something special, what do you fancy?”

“You.”

“Be serious for a moment, Simon; what would you like–to eat? I mean.”

“I am being serious, I fancy you something chronic. I’m not sure how much more of this bloody banking, I can take. It gets on my tits, it really does.”

“Maybe, you can get on mine then,” I said as sexily as I could, which wasn’t terribly. The femme fatale is not really a role I’ve had much experience in.

“Now that is what I fancy, breast of Catherine, done on a bed of clean linen–ever so slowly, but repeatedly.”

“And to drink?”

“The milk of human kindness, with which you are inordinately endowed.”

“Erm, have you got the right Catherine?”

“Oh yes,” he said breathily, “the angel of the West.”

“If you’re comparing me to that ugly bloody thing by the A1, then I’m not sure I appreciate it.” I was referring to a huge sculpture near a main road in the north east of England. To me it resembled an aircraft that was standing on its nose or someone who had been impaled on a huge piece of wooden fence. It’s called, The Angel of the North.*

“I was trying to show my fondness for you Catherine, by comparing you with the saint of the same name, only giving you the elevated status of an angel, my little cherub. In your case, a Catherine wheel is something on a bloody bike.”

“Absolutely, and in the case of the Ruby, Roval Fusee SL wheels.”

“Is that all you think off, bloody bicycles?”

“Not at all, it was you who started talking about them, but hurry up and I’ll get a quick ride in tonight.” I was joking, sort of, I was going to ride anyway but I thought I’d wind him up.

“So I’m playing second fiddle to a bike am I?” he sounded hurt.

“You did give me the bike, every time I go for a ride I think of you,” I purred.

“I smell a rat,” he said.

“No rats here, only a dormouse, and I cleaned her out a while ago, so you shouldn’t smell her at all.”

“How come whenever I try to talk about us, we end up on the subject of bikes or wretched dormice?”

“No darling, you were talking about rats, I simply told you I didn’t know of any round here, however, I have worked with a few.”

“There’s a few of the two-legged variety round here as well. You asked me what I fancy for Friday evening, how about some fresh bread and cheese and good wine?”

“I think that could be arranged since you’ve asked me so nicely,” I teased.

“Be careful on that blessed bike, I have to go. Love you.” He rang off before I could say, ‘love you’ back. I felt sad about it and sent him a text message saying so.

‘U dint giv me time 2 say I luv U 2. Now I feel sad. C xxx.’

I went to change and when I came back down he’d replied.

’Sorreeee. Tkn as red. S xxx.’

I felt this warmth swell up inside me, and was pretty sure it wasn’t a hot flush. I also felt my eyes well up with saltwater. I sniffed and put my cycling shoes on. Minutes later, I had checked the bike over, pumped up the tyres a little and was off on the open road. I decided I‘d have some time to myself and did a long ride. I got home some two and a bit hours later clocking up over forty miles. I was soaking wet with sweat and in dire need of a drink and shower.

I slaked my thirst with a blackcurrant squash drink and then dashed up to the shower, the hot water felt good rinsing away the dirt and my cares and woes, at least for a few moments.

Tomorrow, I was going to start my survey of the Forest of Dean and I intended to get concrete evidence of dormouse presence. I checked my equipment. I had a couple of live traps–these are small boxes that allow animals to trap themselves without doing them any harm, they also lock after one subject enters, so preventing a predator getting in an finding an easy meal. It meant checking them the next day, early, so I did think about booking into a bed and breakfast overnight. In the end, however, I decided I’d drive to and fro.

That night, I read for a while before going off to sleep. I’d bought some of the Gaby books via the internet and found them a light read. However, I was rather glad she wasn’t real, she’d show me up on a bike.

The next morning, I was out by seven and beat most of the rush hour traffic. By eight o clock, I was parked up and beginning my survey. I’d spotted a nice looking pub a couple of miles away where I would go for my lunch. In doing so, it meant I took a break–previous experience had shown if I took a sandwich, I’d keep working while I ate.

I’d mapped out where I was going to survey, and eventually set up my traps on what looked like dormouse runs–these are aerial routes along branches, where they hopefully travel with less danger of predation. It took me some time to disguise the traps, I didn’t need the local kids exploring. At the same time, I needed to be able to find them again, early the next morning. I left some red string tied tightly to a bush ten paces away.

I’d finished my bottle of water as well as setting my traps, so my rucksack was much lighter as I headed back to my car. Nature had rewarded me, some bird had crapped all over the windscreen. Such is life!

The pub was clean and tidy and they advertised accommodation, while I ordered my meal and chatted with the landlord, I enquired about it. The charge was quite reasonable, so I did think I might stay next time. I had four areas to survey, I’d done half of one.

“You walking in the area, are you?” he asked me.

“No, I’m from the university, doing a mammal survey.”

“What rats and mice, that sort of thing?”

“Badgers, foxes, weasels and stoats, as well as the rodents, squirrels and dormice, not much chance of harvest mice, sadly. So maybe the odd water vole will show up, or even an otter.”

“I thought most of those things were more active at night?”

“If I do a night survey, I’ll have someone else with me.”

“I should if I were you, no place for a woman, wandering around a forest in the dark. Who knows what’s about at that time o’night, poachers and all sorts of ne’er do wells.”

“I had one encounter with poachers down in Hampshire last year, they shot my fiancé.”

“Geez, they shouldn’t allow just anyone to get a shotgun, lethal bloody things. Did he survive, your fiancé, I mean?”

“Yes thankfully, he was holding up a rucksack at the time and it took most of the blast. He ended up in hospital though, getting airlifted by helicopter. Frightened me.”

“I’m not surprised, it’d frighten me an’ I’m not engaged to ‘im.” He laughed showing an array of huge white teeth, all of which seemed to me, to look like dentures.”

As I got my meal, he said, “We’re usually not too busy this time o’year, it’s too warm for walkers and cyclists, they come earlier or later.”

“As I do both of those, I’ll bear it in mind.” I eyed the meal they had produced for me, the largest jacket potato I’d seen in a long time. “Gosh, that looks a plateful,” I said almost licking my lips in anticipation, and they hadn’t stinted on the tuna either. Yummy.

* http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_angel_of_the_north

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Comments

Angel of the West?

Never heard of 'er. We do have a Wicked Witch of The West. ;-)

KJT

"Being a girl is wonderful and to torture someone into that would be like the exact opposite of what it's like. I don’t know how anyone could act that way." College Girl - poetheather


"Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away.”
George Carlin

Love the picture of the Dormouse

and as an added bonus the writing isn't to bad either (lol).Glad to see you have Cathy staying busy as I'm sure if she slowed down much the weight of what's been going on in her life would probably drag her down.Hope Bonzi is okay as you've seemed to stop mentioning him? Amy "May your pen never run out of ink and your brain out of ideas"

Is That A Picture Of One Of Spike's Offspring?

Cute photo. And nice to see that Simon getting protective of Stella. And Cathy having that superb meal kinda makes up for some of the turmoil she's been through. Now to see Stella FULLY recover.
May Your Light Forever Shine

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Can't believe it!

I can't believe how you keep up the quality of this story. I wish I had the talent to do that. EAFOAB is the first story I look for every morning and I'm very rarely let down.
Hugs
Sue

Accomodations?

Not sure what that is. Something like a hotel maybe? The common language strikes again.

Placing dormeese traps

Normally, I'm thought to be a heathen with a bull dozer, but actually I'm a little green (like Kermit) Couldn't the 800,000 pounds spent on The Angel of the North been better used on other things, especially since the money came from the lottery ?
Great informative chapter, you can tell our author(ess ?) has done this herself.

Cefin