The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2881 by Angharad Copyright© 2016 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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“Daddy is standing in as Vice Chancellor?”

“Apparently, well according to Pippa, he was the most senior academician in the place and accepted it on a temporary basis.”

“He said that about being dean of the faculty of science.”

“I’m only reporting what Pippa told me.”

“Has she gone with him?”

“I think she’s assisting the temporary dean, Dr Weisman from Forensic Science.”

“Is he the bald one with a bushy beard, looks like a young Father Christmas?”

“I don’t know, never met him.”

“I wonder how long temporary is?”

“Why?”

“Well, to cut a long story short, I only took this job as a temporary thing to support Daddy who’d been co-opted to dean, temporarily. Next thing, I have the old VC telling me my job could be permanent if I signed his new contract...”

“Which you altered.”

“Yes, that one.” I blushed.

“Well, they’re going to be redoing all those contracts more or less back to the original form.”

“Great, mine will read temporary, then.”

“It doesn’t look as if it worries you?”

“Me—nah. I never really wanted to be a professor. I didn’t really want to be a teacher.”

“But you’re so good at it.”

“Am I?”

“Your students think so.”

“What do they know?”

“They know who they want to teach them.”

“I’m essentially a departmental manager, overseeing the teaching process, supervising some post grad research and trying to find sponsorship to keep it all going.”

“That reminds me, you have a lunch appointment.”

“When?”

“Today at twelve thirty.”

“Where?”

“At the Queen’s Hotel.”

“With who?”

“Defra.”

“What do they want?”

“Apparently they want your advice on several elements of mammal conservation.”

“Why me?”

“Why not?”

“Why not Prof Herbert from Sussex or Harris from Bristol, or Yalden from Manchester?”

“I don’t know, perhaps you’re the best.”

“On dormice.”

“Well they’re expecting you.”

“Anyone else going?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Why me?”

“I don’t know do I? Perhaps because you’ve made films they want someone who can talk to the public.”

“About what though?”

“I’m sure he’ll tell you.”

“But the Mammal Society do that probably better than an individual. They’ve just produced a splendid final draft of guidelines on mitigation of water voles. Sadly the chap who did all the work, Rob Strachan, died a couple of years ago.”

“Ooh, I’ve never seen a water vole, are they as cute as dormice?”

“Nothing is as cute as dormice.”

“What about kittens?”

“Dormice kits—nah, they’re bald and blind at first.”

“No kittens, you know from cats?”

“They’re quite cute until they start exterminating the local wildlife.”

“That’s a slight exaggeration.”

“Slight, yeah but they don’t carry leptospirosis.”

“Lepto what?”

“Leptospirosis, a bacterial infection spread mainly by rodents in their urine, in rats it’s often called Weil’s disease and can affect your liver and kidneys, it can also cause bleeding in the lungs and meningitis—so it’s quite serious.”

“And water voles carry this?”

“Yes, why?”

“Should we be conserving them or culling them?”

“Of course we should be conserving them, they’re a protected species because they’re rather vulnerable.”

“Don’t think I want them near me.”

“That’s not likely to happen, is it?”

“I don’t know, do I?”

“Look, rats carry it and you’re much more likely to meet one of those than a water vole, though of course in the old days they were called water rats, which they’re not, though Kenneth Graham in Wind in the Willows, called his water vole, Ratty.”

“Ratty’s a water vole?”

“Yes, why?—What did you think it was?”

“A rat.”

“Oh moles can carry leptospirosis too.”

“Oh wonderful, destroy my childhood icons won’t you?”

“I’m only telling the truth. Look even hedgehogs can carry it.”

“Not Mrs Tiggywinkle—you’re a heartless woman, Catherine Cameron, destroying my heritage. If you tell me Peter Rabbit had it too, I’ll...”

“It can occur in lagomorphs.”

“Phew, so Peter is safe then?”

“Uh no, Peter is a lagomorphs—they’re rabbits and hares.”

“That’s it—make your own tea, oh spoiler of dreams.”

“I told my kids and they haven’t been in therapy ever since, so I suspect you’re overreacting.”

“Me? Over reacting, you’re the one who’s destroying my childhood.”

“Have you ever drunk any water from streams or ponds?”

“No, of course not.”

“And never drunk any rat or other rodent’s urine?”

“No, certainly not.”

“Well providing you don’t, just remember that and hopefully you’ll never contract leptospirosis.”

“Goodness, I hope not—I suppose I can’t catch it after contact with a large version of Mrs Tiggywinkle or Peter?”

“You do enjoy a rich fantasy life don’t you?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Not to me, it isn’t.”

“In which case I’ll make you some tea.”

“Thank you.”

While she was out doing the teas I slapped on some makeup, eyeliner, mascara and lippy, thought I’d better make an effort for the government, though generally speaking I don’t get on too well with bureaucrats, or bureauprats as Daddy calls them.

She took longer than usual and I could probably have waxed my legs and armpits had I known. “There,” she said handing me my tea and a letter in a file. It was from Defra.

Apparently they wanted my advice regarding the status of dormice, water voles, pine martens, otters, and other protected mammal species. I shall refer them to the Mammal Society, who have issued statements on such things as badger culling, hunting with dogs, the water vole mitigation guidelines I mentioned earlier, plus several other matters that have involved mammals in the UK including the culling of hedgehogs on South Uist or that of pine martens with regard to predation of capercaillies in parts of Scotland. As these went extinct in the eighteenth century and were reintroduced from Sweden in 1837 and did okay until the 1970s when they started to decline. In recent years the wet summers have probably reduced breeding success and while there is predation by pine martens, they seem to have coped with it for about 12,000 years—which is about the time the two species have been sharing space in Europe. Other predators have also been named as having an effect, such as foxes and birds of prey depending upon the habitat in which they live, but some Scottish Gamekeeper’s Association wanted to cull the martens or relocate them. Personally, I’d relocate the gamekeepers to Gruinard, the island they used for testing anthrax bombs in the second world war.

I took the file with me when I went to the hotel and was astonished to see Colin Archibald there waiting for me. I was at Sussex with him, or he was a year above me, though he’d never have noticed my ineffectual figure hiding in the background, he was a rugby player, I think and very popular with the girls. Me, I was a nobody unless you wanted microscope slides made.

“Professor Watts, I presume?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Delighted to meet you, I’m Colin Archibald from the ministry. Shall we order first and then deal with business?”

“I only have an hour or so, I’m afraid; I have another meeting after lunch.”

“Some trouble with your Vice Chancellor, I believe?”

“So they say,” I decided it wasn’t the best idea to reveal the man had died in my kitchen.

“Shall we order?” he asked as the waiter approached.