The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1463 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Danny went back to school a few days before the girls–the joys of the state school system. I did offer to send him somewhere else but he was of the opinion that only wealthy ponces and poofters went to private schools. I did try to point out that his sisters went to a private school, but he seemed bored with the discussion.

After his hearty breakfast, Si ran him to school in the Jag. That made up for going back earlier than the girls. I was using the Mondeo that Tom had bought but rarely used–it was almost the household run-about and used for shopping and things. It went like a train–the two litre turbo diesel being pretty nippy about the place.

Everyone ate a pretty good breakfast, especially Simon, who upon smelling the fresh baked bread, ate half the loaf almost before I could slice it. He also scoffed half a jar of strawberry jam, which was all we had so I determined to do the family shop once I’d cleared up and popped into the university to check on a few things, including how many hours I’d be working and when.

Despite the increase in tuition fees, something with which Americans are more familiar than we Brits, we didn’t have any shortage of takers for the biological sciences courses.

It was good to chew the fat with Pippa, who’d been away for two weeks in Rhodes with her boys–if they were half as brown as her, I’d still be jealous–I tan like a milk bottle–just freckling which Simon thinks is cute–men, aargh.

We got chatting about the intake and Pippa said, “We’ve had loads of enquiries from girls.”

“Well, it appears that they tend to do better in exams than boys and the gap is growing.”

“No, we sent out a new prospectus for the courses and the demand for those has been double last year.”

“Why?”

“Try page fourteen,” she said passing me a copy while she went to make the coffee.

I flicked through the glossy paper to the relevant page. I nearly fell off the chair when I read it.

‘The department is pleased to welcome back Lady Catherine Cameron, who is possibly better known to you as Cathy Watts, dormouse expert, ecologist and film maker. Cathy is returning to the department part time to teach on our ecology and field biology units. Her courses are very popular, so there is a possibility that later applicants may not find places.

She is married to Lord Simon Cameron, who is a leading banker. They have several girls and a boy.’

It showed the photo of me with the dormouse as per the bank campaign–fortunately, with my auburn hair, I no longer resembled the poster photo so didn’t feel so uptight about them using it. Pippa returned with the coffees and took one in to Tom–I hope she poisoned it.

“When did they do these?” I waved the brochure to her.

“Back in the spring.”

“I only said I’d do some teaching here the other night.”

Pippa shrugged, “He obviously knows you better than you think.”

“Does he know I’m here?”

“No, he’s been in a meeting half the morning and has another in a couple of minutes.”

“Can you let him know I’ve seen the brochure.”

“You want him to have another heart attack?”

“No, I’m going to prevent that happening ever again.”

“How’s that?”

“I’m going to rip out his heart as soon as he comes home this evening.”

“I found having the boys calmed me down.”

“The kids aren’t the problem it’s misbehaving adults who mess up most of my time. I seem to spend hours clearing up after them–and he’s as bad as any of them.” I nodded towards his door.

“I think he’s a lovely old chap, I wish my kids had him for a granddad.”

“He’s fine as a granddad, it’s his sleight of hand stuff you have to watch for. Ever since I’ve been here he’s bitten off more than I can chew, because I always end up sorting it out for him–from his laundry to the mammal survey.”

“That’s men, Cathy, get over it.”

“Geez, thanks for the sympathy.”

“You’re welcome–I have to go and take minutes of this meeting.”

“Oh okay, I'll wash the cups and go and see how Spike is.” After sorting the crockery, I strolled down to the labs and walked straight into Neal Allen.

“Well look who it isn’t? Our very own celebrity lecturer and millionairess.”

“Thanks, Neal, I knew I could rely on you to keep me grounded.” We hugged and he pecked me on the cheek. “How’s Glo?”

“Tom didn’t tell you?”

My stomach turned over, “No, what’s happened?”

“She’s just started maternity leave.”

“Oh wow, that’s wonderful–when’s the baby due?”

“In about eight weeks.”

“Does the father know?” I asked poker faced.

“Yeah, course–why you...” he chased me round the lab both of us laughing. I ran into the dormouse area and suddenly I really missed this place. I’d had my ups and downs but mostly I’d enjoyed my time here.

“Where’s Spike?” I asked.

“Our celebrity dormouse lives here, we couldn’t get a gold plated nest box for her on account it would get too cold.”

I slid open the nest box and pulled her out, she was fast asleep and woke with a start, however, when I spoke she sat there blinking and waiting for a hazel nut which Neal supplied.

“She remembers you,” he said in surprise.

“We’ve been through a lot together.” I stroked her gently as she munched on the nut–no other dormouse had allowed me such liberties unless they were torpid or hibernating. She was now at least four years old, if we were both lucky, she might make it to six. I stroked her again and popped her back into her nest box.

“You haven’t seen our new addition have you?”

“Which is?”

He walked on and beckoned me to follow, which I did. He led me into a room which I’d never seen before and it was also full of cages. “The herpetology collection,” he said indicating the tanks.

“Snakes, or lizards?” I asked, I wasn’t too keen on snakes.

“Both, including the slow-worms which are like a bridge between the two.”

“Got those in the garden–d’you know they can live to about forty years?” I quite liked slow-worms once I realised they ate things like slugs.

“Reptiles do.”

“Not always–my lawn mower tends to be a bit of a death trap to them.”

“Cathy, you shouldn’t they’re protected.”

“I don’t do it–I leave the lawn to someone else but we do unfortunately kill the odd one. What are they doing here?”

“Captive breeding–under licence of course.”

“For release?”

“That’s the plan, but first we have to set up our breeders.”

“Sounds like you could show ’em what to do.”

“Thanks, Cathy, I suppose we could always feed them dormice babies.”

“Don’t you dare, or I’ll mince you up and feed you to them.”

“That’s fighting talk.”

“Yeah, but it’ll have to wait–I’ve got to do the supermarket shop.”

“I’d have thought with your money, you’d have done it online.”

“They can’t get the truck up our drive.”

“How many kids do you have now?”

“Last count seven, why?”

“How do you cope with seven bloody kids?”

“Eight, if I count Simon.”

He laughed and I shrugged. We hugged and I left. I still had the brochure so words with Tom would occur sometime tonight.