The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2399 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Just a couple more days in school then I have them home for seven weeks. If I disappeared to Menorca, I wonder how quickly they’d find me? Tempting though it was, I decided that I’d better stay home to stop Trish taking over the world and besides, Lizzie is still on full cream. So much for that idea. I’d just got back from taking the fab four to school, apparently, they have a party in their classrooms for Friday afternoon, then they break up at three. I did wonder if I forgot to collect them could put all four in the lost property cupboard until September?

It’s beginning to sound as if I hate my kids, I don’t of course, but they do take rather a lot of my time and energy in holidays. I wonder if I could buy a scale model of a nuclear reactor, plus uranium for them to build over the holidays?

I decided to speak to Si regarding a holiday on Menorca as we have this villa that Henry gave us, seems silly not to use it. I suppose we could go up to the castle, but whenever we do there seems to be a tragedy—nah, Menorca sounds a better bet, although we’d need a passport for Lizzie which could prove difficult.

I fed the little horror who I’m sure is part piranha; my nipples felt like they’d been chewed by a badger and she was grinning like a demon—assuming they grin. Jacquie then took her on to put in the washing machine, on a short cycle while I struggled on with the mammal survey. Data was now coming in by the skip load partly because it’s the time of year when mammals are busy feeding young so are more active. The other thing is we’ve had a period of good weather so people are out more and thus see more.

Worryingly, dormouse numbers seem down, as are harvest mice—mind you how people see them in the first place is astonishing. They are small and generally in corn fields. Given the spraying and then reaping with combines I’m surprised we have any at all. Perhaps this summer, the best for umpteen years, will help numbers of these and other creatures recover—though it’s doubtful. Farming practice has destroyed much of the wildlife of this country, except the most resilient species like rats and houseflies and that isn’t my opinion, it’s backed up by research by people like the RSPB who are finally becoming more holistic in their approach, talking about more than just birds.

I had an email from Dan the newly appointed manager of the woodland centre of which I’m the director. He sent photos of the progress they’re making in building it, it’s coming on a pace now, especially with the dry weather.

I caught up with the TdF, seems they’ve had awful weather in France with several nasty crashes and subsequent withdrawals—Cav was the first, followed by Froome, now it seems Contador is now out with a crash, so unless Nibali suffers something similar, it’s his for the losing.

I managed to get through quite a bit of work before David came and told me lunch was ready—toasted muffin with scrambled eggs and smoked salmon—oh boy, one of my new favourites. Stella was well into hers and eyeing mine, my sitting down at the table disabused her of making a takeover bid. The meal together with elderflower pressé was delicious and I went back to my study with a spring in my step.

It was one o’clock and I had barely two hours to get through the next pile of records. The problem was I had no one I could ask to help me except Jacquie and she was busy with the little ones especially when Stella’s two psychopaths are trying to kill them. So the bottom line is, get on with it and stop complaining.

I do wonder about employing a nanny again, to give Jacquie some space to do her own thing, but when I offer to discuss it with her she tells me she’s happy enough doing what she does. Oh well, I tried. The alternative would be to hire a secretary to do the tedious bits of the survey, like entering records. It’s about as exciting as watching paint dry. Talking of which, the world cup is over, I think Germany won. England were total rubbish—again, being knocked out by the blind school or was it Costa coffee. You’d think when the TdF is on no one would be watching bloody football, mind you the way the favourites are dropping out of that it might be deemed more exciting than usual while demonstrating that bike racing is quite a dangerous sport compared to soccer, where the greatest danger is falling off your wallet, unless that cannibal guy is playing and he tries to take a bite out of you.

The girls were still enjoying their enhanced status when I went to collect them and I did wonder if Trish’s head would fit inside the car, it had grown so much and her ego was even bigger—we’d need a trailer for that. In comparison, Livvie was much more grounded and laid back about their success and her contribution to it.

Back home after changing and completing any homework, we had dinner and were still eating when I heard a car enter the driveway assuming it to be Simon and Sammi, I almost got their meals out of the oven. When no one came waltzing in through the back door, I looked down the drive and saw the police car, a few moments later an inspector emerged and walked towards the door. He pounded on it ignoring notes to ring the bell. I rushed to answer it fearing that something could have happened to Si or Sammi.

“Lady Cameron?”

“Cathy Cameron, yes.”

“I think we have the correct person, might I speak with you for a few moments?” I invited him in barely able to keep my curiosity under control.

“Nothing has happened to my husband, I hope?”

“Not as far as I know; no, this concerns another matter.”

“Oh, which is?” I now felt relieved but curious.

“We have a new investigation begun into the death of Gloria Allen.”

That had to be a good thing because it seemed such a shock, “Oh, I thought that was misadventure while suffering from post natal depression.”

“We’d like you to remake your statement and add anything which you consider might have contributed to the possible murder of Mrs Allen.”

“You think she was murdered?”

“We are not ruling out foul play.”

“Wow, what does Neal say to that?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that as Mr Allen was arrested earlier this morning...”