The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2321 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

If I heard Sammi singing, The Teddy bears picnic once more, I think I would possibly strangle her. ‘Íf you go down to the woods today...’ had become a real ear worm, which I believe is what they call a tune you can’t get out of your head. Her joke with the gorilla in the photos was well received and Mima possibly laughed the loudest. She also complained she hadn’t seen the unicorns—I must admit, I’d loved to have seen them too—that would have made a good record for the mammal survey.

I got an email from Tony who saw an article about dormice being released all over the country but especially in places like Yorkshire and Lancashire by the PTES. I was fuming, especially when I saw the failure rates were more than half. That was a lot of deceased dormice. I sent PTES a snotty email suggesting they might like to contact the university next time as we had some experience of successful releases.

I expected to get a reply telling me to mind my own business, in which case I might offer a letter to the Daily Wail, or whichever paper it was in, suggesting the imprudence of such large release schemes when small is better, especially when it enables better monitoring and support of such releases. The wisdom of reintroductions is also a moot point with talk of doing so with wolves and even lynx. Farmers with sheep won’t be much in favour.

I remembered on one bike ride about this time of year seeing a dead lamb in a field the head of which was covered in blood where the crows had had its eyes out. I just hoped it was dead before they did it. It still made me shudder. But then I’m possibly a total hypocrite because I don’t relate the little woolly things gambolling round fields with the meat served up on plates with mint sauce.

I cobbled together an email to PTES asking for more details of their release scheme and offering my expertise for future releases. I showed it to Daddy, who thought it quite well written and then sent it. My future reaction would depend upon their response. If they didn’t know they were dealing with the dormouse queen, which would tend to demonstrate their ignorance—I would soon remind them.

I was pleased with Danielle’s seeming recovery from her pneumonia. She’d been tired from the fresh air and exercise as we wandered round the field centre and the woodland reserve, however, she had recovered quite quickly and seemed to be in good spirits today. I agreed she could go to Cindy’s for the morning and gave her the bus fare.

I didn’t know about her tiredness but I felt somewhat exhausted by a lack of sleep from a combination of Simon’s snoring and the antics of a certain cat who’ll remain nameless, but who spent half the night or so it seemed, trying to catch two moths who found their way into the house. Perhaps I should have remembered to use Burns’ poem the one which asks about things which go bump in the night and finishes with the line, ‘Guid Lord deliver us.’ The number of things which went bump or crash in the wee sma’ ’oors became beyond counting as Bramble jumped and chased after the two moths. Between them they broke an antique tea pot, the glass in two pictures and a sculpture by Tom’s first daughter. Seems she was good at art as well as languages—me? I’m good at eating.

Simon had to go back to work on the Monday but I held onto the fact that next week had a bank holiday on Friday for Good Friday. I would avoid all contact with those who felt it was what Christianity was all about, death and resurrection or rebirth through the process. My memories of Easter weren’t very good ones as a child because even then I couldn’t understand how God could resurrect some bloke two thousand years ago but not my hamster which had died the week before and which affected me as a six year old much more than some old guy dying all those centuries before. In all honesty, the situation hasn’t changed very much at all, except possibly for the worse. Could I have been agnostic at age six?

I spent the morning doing some housework where I shamelessly exploited the girls in helping me on the proviso that if they didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to spend any time with them until a week next Tuesday.

The post showed the irony of being relatively well known in a narrow field. Some are quite pleased because someone recognised them, I hate it, but as usual we were being assailed in all directions by mail from people too far away to have ever met me but through various bits I’d done on telly and elsewhere felt they had some claim on me. I got Easter cards by the bag load—I don’t celebrate it because I don’t think it ever happened except in a symbolic sense and that doesn’t please many Christians. However, we stand them on the sideboard in the lounge and they go for recycling on Easter Monday. I sound very hard bitten, I’m not but just can’t believe in something I see more as impossible than miraculous.

I had some more Easter cards, three to be precise, all from people who’d heard me talk on the radio or bought the dormouse video and thought they were cute. I doubt they thought I was cute, although Simon said I was, but that was a couple of years ago.

After the film I had grumbles from male students, a minority, about not wearing the same outfit for work as I did in the film. They meant the shorts, although most of the time I wore trousers as I did in work.

Usually, the response encouraged by Erin was to send them a handwritten note thanking them for their support and interest in my career. If we had spare photos we’d send one of those which I signed. Usually this was off the picture used in the bank poster and which the bank very kindly produced at no cost to me or the other workers.

Trish came into me and I was a bit short with her because I was trying to sort out how we’d respond as the photos had recently run out—the bank had promised a reprint was imminent but so far nothing. It was only after I finished doing the bit with the photos that I tried to recollect what had upset her. I discovered much to my disgust that she had the headache back again, so I spent much of the rest of the day sitting with her and trying to help her feel a bit better. Young children shouldn’t get headaches, so I felt a bit concerned for her.