The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1352 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

On Saturday, Simon and Trish went off to watch Danny play football, while Bille, Livvie and Meems came with me to go to the university to have a check on the dormice–yeah, remember them? Little–um–mouse like critters–actually, they’re not mice, different family–okay they’re rodents, I’ll give you that.

The weather had been unusually warm so they were waking early and we were monitoring what they were eating. Remember they’re mainly nocturnal, so we record what we put out and what’s left the next day–that way we get to discover what their favourite food is.

I cleared out the old stuff while the girls stood round and watched, then I collected up the items from the list–dried fruit, dried meal worms, fresh apple and some flowers from sycamore trees. The latter were supplied as branches with leaves and buds attached. It’s quite interesting that in the UK sycamore has been viewed as a pest species–one expert on trees describing it as the country’s biggest species of weed but we dormicers–think differently when it was realised how important the sycamore was to their ecology in the absence of oak.

Oak is the most important species of tree to many species of insect and other animals–some of the others because it feeds so many insects, so provides a dining table for parasites and predators. The dormice are in the latter category–they eat insects amongst other things, but they can’t digest cellulose, so can't eat leaves–they can however eat some of the flowers of trees, including sycamore when available. We forget that trees and grasses are flowering plants, albeit mostly wind pollinated–hence the amount of hay-fever (allergic rhinitis) during their flowering times.

It took about an hour to sort out all the dormice, and then we checked each of the nest boxes–they were all fine, and for once Mima managed not to frighten half of them to death.

On the way home we did a bit of supermarket shopping and each of the girls got a chocolate bar to shut them up–okay, I know it’s bribery–but it works. That finished we got back and after a quick cuppa, I set to with making lunch–it was FA cup final day and Simon and Danny were set to watch it, despite Tom teasing them that it was a game, ‘f’ Jessies.’ Danny was annoyed until he remembered Si had played rugby not football and realised that his Gramps was joking.

His game was supposed to finish by half past eleven and I anticipated about an hour and a half for them to get to the fire station and have a look at a fire engine and so on. I wasn’t particularly interested in such things–unless they had them pulled by bicycle–so left it to the boys and Trish to enjoy. Meems was a bit miffed that her daddy had taken Trish instead but when I mentioned looking at fire engines she shrugged and went back to her dolls.

Livvie and Billie were playing some board game, snakes and ladders I think and Jenny was out with the two little ones–she’d left a note. It was breezy but not bad at all. At one point I had thought to attend the CTC AGM seeing as it was on Portland, but I didn’t have time although I am a member–mainly for their third party insurance and legal advice, which is free to all full members, I’m also a member of British Cycling, just to support the work they do with developing younger riders.

I was doing omelettes for lunch and it was now one o’clock and my stomach was rumbling, they should have been home about now. I sent Simon a text. He replied for us to carry on without them, he’d get them something out if necessary.

I huffed and asked Livvie to lay the table for the rest of us. I’d just started beating eggs when Jenny arrived with two sleeping little people–fresh air often does that to them–and she nodded when I asked if she wanted an omelette.

I’d made a quick green salad to go with it and some bread and butter. I did plain omelettes but everyone ate them with gusto–including me, I was hungry not having had more than a slice of toast for breakfast.

The three miscreants eventually turned up about three o’clock bearing bags of fish and chips–I was furious–I was intending to do fish for dinner. Simon shrugged and settled down with a tray on his lap, a bottle of beer and the football on the telly. Danny followed suit with a bottle of pop instead. Trish, however, sat down at the table and told me what had happened in their morning.

“It was good, Mummy, Danny’s team won two one–he didn’t score any but he set up the goal for another boy to score.” I was delighted to hear that he could be such a team player, although he had proved that at home in other ways.

“What about the fire station, darling, what was that like?”

“That was fab, Mummy, we sat in a fire engine and got to make the blue lights flash–they’re not allowed to sound the sirens unless they’re out on a job. But they showed us how they connect the hoses and how they dry them after use–that’s what the towers are for on the side of the fire stations.”

I nodded–I knew this already, except when I was a kid I thought someone sat up there all the time watching out for people’s houses catching fire.

“They were checking out a turntable ladder, an’ we got a ride in it–it goes so high, Mummy, we could see over the roof of the fire station.”

“You went up in the ladder?” I was shocked, seven years old and enjoying it–I’d have been terrified–I can’t stand heights–rephrase that–I don’t like heights. I’ll go up ladders and things but I don’t feel comfortable–occasionally even a bit dizzy.

“Yeah–it was excitin’.” I’ll bet it was, mind you I’ll have a word with Simon when we are alone. “A fireman let me move the levers an’ things while he watched.

“You went up with a fireman in the platform?”

“Oh yeah, Daddy couldn’t work something like that unless I showed him what to do–he can’t do the washin’ machine or the video.”

This was quite true, mind you I wasn’t that clever with the video either–but I could work the washing machine and the other domestic appliances. As for recording or playing things on the video–I usually asked one of the kids to put it on for me–they have more time and expertise and so far haven’t twigged.

“Then, neither can you, can you, Mummy?”

“How d’you think you get clean clothes if I can’t work the washing machine?”

“No, silly Mummy, the video–I’ll show you again later if you want.”

“No thanks, poppet, I’ll do it some other time.” Damn, she knew–so what–so why am I blushing. Maybe I should send her off to play with some NATO satellites on her computer–she’s under the age of criminal responsibility–nah, I’ll get her to have a game of snakes and ladders–I might just manage to win at that.