The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2972 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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For Julia & Diana who bought me a delicious lunch today.
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“Cathy, whit are ye daein’ the day?” Tom asked me as I organised breakfast for the five thousand. It only happened once in Judea, I do it most mornings.

“Why?” I wasn’t aware I had any meetings.

“We hae a potential sponsor fa some research.”

“Who and what sort of research?”

“A wee company called International Business Machines.”

“Business machines—what are they looking for us to do for them?” I had all sorts of smart answers flitting through my mind – calculators for dormice, VAT machines for bats, computers for rats—hang on computers, International Business Ma...IBM? Surely not.

“They’re interested in hibernation and whit happen tae thae brain during it.”

“This is IBM, we’re talking about?”

“Aye, that’s whit their initials spell. Hibernation—dormice—Cathy Watts—Portsmouth University. See they can make connections even if ma heff-wit dochter cannae.”

“So why are they talking to you and not me?”

“I met one o’ their top managers yesterday and we got talking, ye’ve got an appointment tae gang an’ see him at ten o’cock.”

“Where?”

“Romsey.”

“Romsey? I thought Southampton had a site at Romsey? So why are they coming to us?”

“I jest telt ye, dormice.”

“Is that it, just go and talk about dormice with him?”

“Aye, I ken ye’d get there in thae end.”

“Okay.”

“Ye’d better pit some tidier clathes on, remember ye’re representin’ ma university.”

“Huh, I’m tidier than you.”

“Aye but I’m an auld git, ye’re a smart arsed dolly bird.”

I quickly wolfed down a slice of toast and dashed upstairs and threw on a skirt suit, some heels and some jewellery, a touch of slap and some perfume and I was down again in fifteen minutes—I still had children to take to school, unless I could get Amanda to do that and I could use my Jaguar.

“Oh ye can get some lunch in Romsey on ma expenses, there’s a nice French restaurant there. Get a receipt, ye ken thae rules.”

“Okay, I’ll do that,” teach the old skinflint.

So instead of dashing off in the van with a load of schoolgirls, I loaded my laptop and several memory sticks with data on dormice. The neurology of hibernation wasn’t really my stuff, other than in background information on how it would affect their hibernation, but I suspect I could involve either other departments or contract some of the research to another university, but not Southampton if I could avoid it, but somewhere like Cardiff or London might be interested in doing the lab work or our electronics people may be interested in devising ways of wiring them up when they’re hibernating to see if anything happens then. As they’re not the brightest creatures on the planet, it would be interesting to monitor what does happen, hopefully without harming the dormouse.

The traffic out of Portsmouth was diabolical not helped by heavy showers, however, once clear of the city, I managed to make up some time and at ten minutes to ten, I was parking in a visitor’s slot at the IBM offices at Romsey, or just outside.

The receptionist buzzed someone once I gave her my name and a young woman called Alice showed me to Mr Siemen’s office. He was German, don’t know why I was surprised, but somehow I was expecting an American.

We talked for about an hour and he outlined what they were wanting to do. It’s pure science fiction stuff, they want to build bio-computers but want to be able to quieten them down at times like they assume dormice do when torpid or hibernating. We agreed a protocol for the research programme which I would cost for him. I had some qualms about risking my animals but if they pay us in the estimates I was suggesting, we could possibly either breed many more or protect more in the wild. Either way, dormice as a whole would benefit as would our knowledge of them. I agreed I would supervise the experiment myself which seemed to please him.

I sat in the car and made notes on my computer about the meeting while it was clear in my mind. I was sure we could do it all but we’d need to bring in someone to do the technology bit, produce electrodes small enough to register the electrical activity in a hibernating dormouse. At least we had a few months to do it.

The clock in the car confirmed the rumbling in my tummy as being lunch time. Rather than dash back to Portsmouth, Tom had effectively told me I could reward myself for my saleswomanship, I decided to see if I could find this restaurant he’d mentioned.

I did, it appeared on Google and I saw a car park not far away. Ten minutes later I was paying for a parking ticket to display and thence to the restaurant, La Parisienne. Monday is obviously a busy day for them because they were full and I was about to think I’d wasted the car park fee when the young French waitress told me to wait and she went off to speak with someone. She returned and told me that if I didn’t mind sharing, they could accommodate me. I was going to do some more work on the project, but decided I’d talk with whoever I was sharing with instead, assuming they wanted to talk to me.

The waitress, Francesca, led me to a table occupied by a white haired chap who stood as I approached, shook hands and introduced himself as Mike. I told him my name and we were off. Turned out he was visiting his granddaughter who’d recently had a baby and it gave him an excuse to have lunch at his favourite Hampshire restaurant. I told him it had been recommended to me by my boss at the university.

He spoke fluent French, so I was somewhat in awe, my schoolgirl stuff didn’t do much more than conjugate irregular verbs or ask the time. He was a real gastronome and we talked about food—he knew a great deal more than I did, especially about French cuisine. Seeing brill, a flatfish I haven’t eaten for ages, I knew what I fancied though I declined the offer to share a bottle of Chablis—a wine I enjoy, but not while driving—I stuck to H2O and finished with a latté coffee.

My fish was delicious and I enjoyed every morsel of it that I could separate from the skin and bones—flatfish do seem to have rather a lot of the latter. That should have been enough for me as David would be cooking for dinner but the chance of profiteroles was too much and I succumbed to a pudding. They were lovely too and I began to think I needed to get in a bike ride soon or eat a very small dinner.

I parted company with my delightful dining companion and drove back to Portsmouth having called Diane to see if there was anyone in the electronics department who could talk to me about EEGs for dormice. I had to wait for her to stop laughing before finishing the instruction. I thought while we were doing it for dormice, I could do it for my secretary too, because I’m sure at times her brain goes into hibernation mode.

It was going to be a late night for me, unless I did the work at home, which would mean I could collect the girls. I used my handsfree and told Amanda I’d get them and after briefing my colleague from electronics went off to collect my daughters and start work on writing up the costings for the research proposal. I have such an exciting life.