I don’t know if Stella actually enjoyed sharing a bed with me or what, I supposed she must, or at least being with someone. For some men this would be the ultimate fantasy, two hot chicks in one bed. I don’t know about two hot chicks, but one was very hot–me. I was too hot, and Stella spooning into the back of me; only made things worse. I had peeled back the thin duvet, but was still far too hot to sleep. Of course, Stella was fast asleep–it seemed her family could sleep anywhere.

In the end, I went to the bathroom and when I came back, lay on top of the duvet. I must have slept because I woke up feeling cold–wonderful, isn’t it?
I crept back under the covers and this time slept quite well.

I awoke hearing the phone ringing, then it stopped. I was yet in a stupor and it was a few minutes before I realised I was alone. I sat up in bed and Stella came breezing in with a cup of tea. “Des has just phoned, he’s been up since four wading in the floodwater trying to get to some woodland or other. He said, he was cold and wet and getting hungry. I said I knew a way to warm him up.”

“Oh, okay,” I was still more asleep than awake.

“I washed the kitchen floor, as you weren’t up, I thought it would dry more easily.”

“Thank you,” I said yawning.

“You seem tired.”

“It isn’t just about appearances, I am knackered.”

“Oh dear, too much stress in your life.”

“Could be.”

“Never mind, when Des comes back I’ll be off your hands and out of the way.”

“Yeah, okay.” I yawned again and my eyes watered.

“I’m going to hang myself if that’s alright?”

“Yeah, okay,” I said and yawned again, this time unable to see anything as well as not process much of what Stella was saying.”

“Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

“I can’t, too much to do.” Another yawn consumed me and I felt cross with my stupid body. I gulped down my tea and jumped out of bed. I showered and dressed while Stella sat on the bed and watched. We exchanged the odd word but not much. I pulled on my Tour of Britain tee shirt and a pair of stretch jeans. It wasn’t warm exactly, but I didn’t need a cardigan or sweater. After a quick breakfast, I got stuck into my emails and data sorting.

Most of the records were straightforward; voles, mice, rats and so on. I also got the strange ones. One included a photo of a lion in front of Blackpool tower which had obviously been faked. At least it made me chuckle. I rejected a few others too.

The process meant that I had to have two other people to check my vetting of records and I checked theirs, we worked as a triumvirate, checking each other and that included the rejects. The pile was growing. Obviously, exotics escape or are dumped and there are plenty of mistaken sightings–especially big cats, which turn out to be dogs usually or the perspective is altered through some strange atmospheric condition. If farmers were losing dozens of sheep, there’d be big game hunts. There aren’t, ergo, there can’t be many of the large leos about.

Someone considered they had star nosed moles in their garden. If they did it would be a first–weird looking things, with like a star of red fluff around their noses–and the moles are ugly, too.

Stella brought me in a coffee to keep me awake. I was actually doing quite well. I worked until one in the afternoon. We had a very light meal and changed to go for a cycle ride. We were back two hours and twenty odd miles later. Stella had struggled but I had decided she needed to get fitter and thus pushed her harder. She zonked in a chair afterwards, I went back to my records and did another two hours.

I checked some of my material for Monday and then got on with making the dinner. A new loaf mix was the first thing, then I started the vegetables. We had salmon with new potatoes, fresh peas and carrots.

Later, while Stella watched telly, I sorted some data from Aberdeen university and they had a record of several sightings of wild cat and pine martin. Those excited me, and I wished I had time to go up to Scotland and see these wonderful creatures. They had loads of records of tufties, and various mice and voles, plus one or two sea otters–another creature I’d love to see myself, Tarka, as Henry Williamson called him.

I sent these on to our panel of experts. Apart from some dormice in Cheshire, from a specialist group there, I had none of my little critters to record–unless I included my own records, which I wouldn’t until verified by another individual, part of the work I was doing for Bristol Uni.

I put together my proposal and costed it. I wasn’t going to come cheap, but I pointed out that I was the leading researcher in dormice in the UK, possibly Europe unless the prof at the University of Turin, took that accolade and he didn’t know much about the common dormouse, he was an expert on the edible one, Glis.

I woke Stella, who’d fallen asleep in front of the box, and told her I was going to bed. She nodded and apparently fell asleep again. I was aware of someone getting into bed during the night, but it hardly disturbed me at all. I awoke at seven the next morning feeling well rested. I stole out of bed and went down to start work while I ate my breakfast.

Stella came down after ten, “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You looked so peaceful, and besides you probably needed the sleep.”

“I fell asleep in the chair, woke up about four.”

“I did wake you to tell you I was off to bed.”

“Did you, I don’t remember. I came up later when I woke up and crept into bed.”

“Yes, I know, I did wake but only for a moment or two.”

“Sorry, I tried to be quiet.”

“You were. What are you going to do today?”

“It’s raining, so it looks like indoor stuff. I thought I might read one or two of your books.”

“Help yourself.”

“What are these Gaby Stories?”

“Take a look, but I warn you they are addictive. I won’t tell you the plot because it isn’t anything much, each chapter is almost a little vignette in itself.”

“Okay.”

“I shall stop at one, because I’m almost up to date, for the moment. If it’s dry then we can have another ride after lunch, if you’d like?”

“Fine, yeah.” She went off to curl up with one of the Maddy Bell books, I’d bought a year or so ago.

I ploughed on through the ‘paperwork’, most of it was actually electronic, except I printed off the rejects. A polar bear off Whitby? Hardly!

At lunch–some of my home made bread with cheese and pickle, Stella told me she had thoroughly enjoyed the stories of the gender ambiguous cycling phenomenon, and would read the other two before she left.

The weekend approached and as we realised Simon was en route, we agreed to no mention of Des, she even hid her engagement ring. Simon arrived and we went out to dinner.

At bedtime, Stella had to make do with her own bed and some more Gaby stories. In my bed, Simon was attempting to show he had missed me, it was touching–he touched me all over! It was moving–I fell out of bed once, while he tried something which I assumed was physically impossible from his description. He had to find out the hard way, but I was the one with the bruises.

I eventually succumbed to exhaustion about an hour after we went to bed and actually fell asleep while he was–I’m sure you don’t want to hear about that. The next morning neither of us could move without something hurting. Stella had a good laugh from it, and I nearly gave the game away by saying something about her and Des, but I managed to alter it and Simon didn’t seem to notice.

We cycled some of the Saturday, Simon being the slowest this time. I cooked a roast dinner for the evening meal and we all went to bed slightly worse for wear after two bottles of Cabernet. There were no gymnastics that night, we slept soundly.

Sunday, Simon mowed the lawn, while I did the washing. I’d booked a table for three at a pub, so after beautifying ourselves, we went off for lunch. It was okay, a carvery near Bristol Parkway station, except we’d eaten better the night before, then we had a mooch around Cribbs Causeway retail park. Simon bought himself a new pair of shoes, but Stella and I only looked.

Simon headed back to London after tea, deciding he needed an early night and Iwas too big a temptation–I didn’t know whether to feel flattered or insulted. Stella thought it was very funny.

In a way, I was glad he hadn’t stayed another night. Tomorrow I was teaching, so had an early start myself, and it was supposedly the day of reckoning for Stella and Des. It was therefore going to be quite stressful enough without a disturbed night. The Camerons continued the musical beds game, as Stella came back in with me once her brother had gone. However, after some talking we fell asleep.