The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2997 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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Weekends come round so quickly unless it’s Monday and you’re working, then it seems a long way away. It was Friday, you know poets day, or should that be POETS – push off early tomorrow’s Saturday. The people who think of these things obviously don’t have enough to do. Unlike me, I had more than enough and I was pretty sure I wasn’t doing all I was supposed to be doing. I was still worried about this hibernating dormouse project especially when I read that people who go into deep space will probably die there or have all sorts of problems from cosmic radiation or heart disease if they don’t lose muscle or bone density as well. While I’d love to see the blue planet from space, the ecological risks and the physical ones make me realise I’d never bother. As for going to Mars, it would probably be a one way trip but people will sign up for it without really taking on board what’s involved, including a greatly shorter life expectancy.

We know from Brexit that people do stupid things because they haven’t thought them through, so far I doubt too many have died. But going to Mars, two years or more of travelling through space and a strong likelihood of suffering illness or psychological problems before you get there, if you don’t actually die on route, is for mad men or those with a death wish. It’ll be exciting for a while at least until reality sets in, then it could just become a nightmare, with no expectation of rescue possible. However, some will sign up for it in the same way that volunteers will turn up for suicide missions in the military.

I accept that belting down a steep hill on a bike gives me a buzz and that is potentially disastrous, if I had to stop suddenly, I probably couldn’t, or if I did would likely become airborne for a second or two before hitting the ground rather hard. I know what the consequences are but still do it. The law of averages suggests I’ll probably survive and part of that is dependent upon my bike riding skills, balance and so on. Going to Mars or just to deep space—how will anyone have the skills necessary to do that if no one has done it before? For what? A glimpse of the blue planet and five minutes of fame—you know, who was that man or woman who died on the Mars mission, or who was the first human to die on Mars?

I suspect that hibernation, were it possible for humans, would increase the dangers not overcome them. Though looking more widely, perhaps it could help people with other problems avoid certain aspects of life. Though hibernation is dangerous, even in dormice who have been using it as a ploy to cope with insufficient food in early spring, only about a third or so are likely to survive to breed and thus raise the next generation of dormice.

While Spike was a one off, and lived a long time, much longer than is likely in the wild, it is thought that they may not live much more than three or four years in even a suitable habitat as their teeth show major wear in this time—especially molars. I must admit I didn’t check her teeth, but she seemed able to eat nuts almost up until she died.

While no research should be considered a waste of time, I suppose even knowing how best to dunk a biscuit has some purpose—give me a few months to think of one—it does make me question our project with hibernation. If part of the purpose was to be able to sell data to major corporations for deep space flight, I suspect that’s not going to get off the ground. If the purpose is to understand how dormice hibernate, then it’s viable assuming no one has done it first. Hence employing someone to search the published literature—if they have then we need to find something extra, confirm their findings or challenge them. In which case I need to speak with Tom before we go any further than a feasibility study and costing.

I wonder if I’m suited to being a professor because I’m not a good enough organiser and I’m not that interested in canvassing sponsors for research projects unless it’s a survey type. Hearing that Bristol water spent £80,000 doing dormouse surveys and conservation along a new pipeline, I’d have quite enjoyed putting in a tender for that and using students to do it or monitoring the hedgerows afterwards—that could prove to be a small earner for a number of years.

I’m sure we could run ecological surveys of almost any species or group, from insects to large mammals—mainly because the principles are the same though the data analysis might be different depending upon the skew of the requirements of the sponsor. Even a sea survey might be possible because we do have a marine biology department which supposedly answers to me but is largely autonomous because the guy who runs it is competent and trustworthy and I know he’s done fisheries work in the past. He also goes fishing as a hobby and I’ve profited by a few fresh mackerel on a number of occasions. Eaten the same day as they’re caught is the only way to have them and then they are delicious with a capital D.

The weekend approached and at least I didn’t have to collect the girls but they will probably have been driving Amanda and Jacquie crazy while I’ve been sitting here all day fretting. I called Tom’s office and he could see me at three. Diane made me a cuppa at two when I realised I’d had no lunch—too busy thinking. I found half a dozen Lotus biscuits which were still edible and had them—I need to lose a few pounds anyway and I hadn’t exactly felt hungry, even when Diane told me she was off to lunch herself, I was still absorbed in my problems or should that be dilemma?

At five to three I set off towards the Vice Chancellor’s palace—his office suite is compared to mine—arriving there at exactly three o’clock. The discussion with Tom lasted an hour and I believe I made him understand my reservations of the hibernation project. He told me the difficulties and hazards of outer space weren’t my problem, mine was to show how animals hibernated, what correlations other disciplines could develop using them was up to them, so he considered it was still viable and he was prepared to fund the feasibility study and if it proved so, the project for two years. I should have been happy but instead I felt rather depressed. I thought I’d got out of the commitment but apparently not. I think he knew that and pressed me to continue almost as if it was a personal development plan—perhaps it was, but I wasn’t sure I was up to it. I called in the office and told Diane to go home because I was, and furthermore, I was taking Monday off too. I had four more days to work then I had a month off. Was I looking forward to that?