The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3015 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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It didn’t take me long to hang or otherwise dispose of dresses and other clothing. If it gets really warm, there is nothing quite as cool as a loose fitting dress. I quickly stowed my shoes in the bottom of the wardrobe and then after clicking the tile on the base of the wall of the wardrobe, unlocked the safe and shoved all the passports in it. There’s a special place to hide the key, so less chance of losing it or having it taken if one’s bag is snatched or some other calamity beset one.

The next step was organising lunch and finding out what the others wanted to do, personally a walk over to the nature reserve would suit me fine, but the others may want to do something entirely different.

I made a salad then boiled up a dozen eggs. When they’d cooled I shelled them—a really tedious occupation, which made teaching first year students seem quite enjoyable. I then sliced said naked, hardboiled chicken ova and began buttering slices of bread. When the kettle boiled I called the troops in and presented them with egg salad and a drink. The girls all grumbled but devoured their share with gusto, after which I allowed them an ice cream each.

It seemed they all wanted to play in the pool but I told them they had to wait an hour before swimming again. There were grumbles but I knew they’d respect my instruction. Stephanie thanked me for the lunch and asked me what I’d like to do, when I replied, she said she’d keep an eye on the others if I wanted to go for a walk.

We cleared up together and I changed into shorts and polo shirt—the collar keeps my binocular strap from rubbing the back of my neck, I slapped sun blocker cream over my exposed arms and legs and some on my face, then tying my hair back in a ponytail, I pulled on my sun hat and hefted my rucksack on my back and set off towards the Parque Natural des Albufera des Grau, one of my favourite nature reserves. I had a special pocket thing in the rucksack through which I could hang the tripod for my telescope—a new scope and tripod, since my last visit here.

I may not revel in having more money than most, or access to it; but when it comes to purchasing optics, a few extra readies can make a difference. I’ve now got a Swarovski Optik one and matching binoculars. Occasionally, I feel a little concerned that walking around with over four grand’s worth of equipment could make me a potential robbery victim, but I enjoy my hobby when I have time and if I could carry it, I’d have my camera with telephoto lens with me as well.

Before I’d got more than a hundred yards from the house I spotted a booted eagle trying to take advantage of any thermals or updraughts he could find. I stood and watched him for a few minutes before a black kite caught my eye and then a red one flew across and I was able to compare the two. The red kite is larger, something which I hadn’t realised and like its name suggests, it’s also lighter in colour.

It boded a good afternoon’s birding and while warm, the weather wasn’t too oppressive. I watched Sardinian warblers and spectacled warblers and what I’d hoped was a Balearic warbler, only to learn later they don’t occur on Menorca and it was probably a Dartford warbler. I heard whitethroats but didn’t actually see them for ages. Finally I got to the lagoon which is quite large for a small island, and there I watched a great white egret amongst various ducks and geese.

One of the joys of the island is seeing wild tortoises. Despite their ubiquity, they aren’t that easy to see and it reminded me of a boy back in school, in Bristol who used to breed tortoises. Most of my contemporaries thought he was weird because he loved them but it wasn’t until he revealed how much he could sell them for that the ribbing stopped and the others wondered about a nice little earner. It’s annoying how money seems to change people’s perspective, especially if it involves them making some. I suppose because I’ve never really valued money as a primary driver in my life and it seems the universe has accepted my contempt and thus provided me with more than I’m ever likely to spend, I survive seeing the irony while at the same time feeling sad for those who have very little despite their innocence in the matter.

It seems perhaps the New Testament authors who we call Matthew and Mark were right when they suggested that those who have shall be given and those who haven’t, shall have what they do have taken away. I felt it was so unfair, but the reality at times seems to be borne out, the rich get richer and the poor poorer. I still feel it’s unfair but experience has tended to make me accept those things I can’t change and it seems inequality is one of the givens in a free society, though it often condemns children from poorer families to remain poor unless they are very special, work hard and get the odd break. Politics is the only way to change things and I’m not prepared to get too involved with those as I tend to have as much contempt for most politicians as I do money.

The Brexit vote, the presidential circus in America, the hoo-hah at Cameron’s resignation honours about his friends all getting gongs and those who deserve them being ignored again. Nothing new there then, it seems if you want to get titles or other gongs, you need to be a politician, a pop star or top sports personality. I don’t have a problem with it if the pop stars raise loads of money for charities and the top athletes who’ve achieved their celebrity by winning at the top of their game. However, I suspect that awarding knighthoods while the athlete is still competing is premature and should wait until they retire; after all, if you get a knighthood or damehood the first time you achieve something big, like winning the TdF, what d’you get if you do it twice? For people like Hoy and Wiggins, I accept they deserve their gongs but in the case of the latter, they should have waited until Wiggo retired.

Does a knighthood eventually await Mark Cavendish, the most successful road race sprinter of all time and certainly the most successful British road racer, or does his capacity to open his mouth and shove both feet in it, mean he’s unlikely to get one? I’m glad he got his Olympic medal, he deserved it and perhaps now he can stop grumbling about Wiggo and make up with him instead. They’re both larger than life characters with tremendous talent and cycling in Britain especially, has profited from them as has I suspect, cycling worldwide.

I took a few photos with my little camera of plants I couldn’t identify and hoped when I looked them up, the photos would show all the necessary identifiers so I could look them up in my wildflower field guide. Strolling home, I began to think what we might do this evening and what we were going to eat and was so absorbed in my own thoughts that I didn’t notice the pickup truck drawing alongside me.