The Weekly Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3282 by Angharad Copyright© 2021 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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Tom and I took some flowers to the cemetery towards the evening of Easter Sunday. It had been a lovely day weather-wise and much better than had been forecast, although it had produced quite a sharp frost first thing. On the Monday, Danielle, Trish and I rode into the University to check the dormice and waited until Mr Spargo and his daughter showed up about quarter-past eight. She was as enchanted by them as her father had been and announced she was going to study dormice at university when she was old enough. I've heard that a few times, but I also believe that if we can interest children in nature it can produce a lifelong enjoyment and some even go on to become ecologists or biologists, who are frequently driven by their enjoyment of the natural world. I know I am.

When we got home and showered and breakfasted, not at the same time I hasten to add, I wandered out into the garden when Tom was trying to plant some potatoes, Danni immediately offered to help him and less enthusiastically so did Trish. I watched a couple of bumblebee queens searching suitable places for nesting, these were mainly buff-tailed ones which have a double band of yellow at the collar and the front of the abdomen and a tail which is quite variable in colour from off-white to an almost fawn colour. The yellow is a rich golden type compared to the white-tailed bumblebee which has a much more pale lemon pair of stripes and the tail is usually much whiter, hence the name. These are two of the more common variety to see in gardens at this time of year, which will be mainly queens looking to set up their own colony. I never fail to feel affection for these ungainly creatures, which according to engineers should never get off the ground, a bit like jumbo jets, but do and fly for many hours in their foraging. They are much more helpful in pollinating plants than hive bees and are up long before their domesticated cousins and continue later into the evening. Hive bees are relatively poor at pollinating, apart from their laziness compared to wild bees, by combining pollen and nectar into the lumps you often see on their back legs or pollen baskets, means the pollen is unavailable for pollination.

The importance of bumblebees can be demonstrated in one example. if you eat tomatoes, then the plants they came from was probably pollinated by a bumblebee. In fact, it is now big business as tomato growers buy commercially produced nests and keep them in their greenhouses and the bees oblige by pollinating their crops.

The downside of this is that there is very little control of the health of the bees and they may be carrying disease or genetic mutations which could get into the wild population during the six weeks of their adult lifespan.

According to Erica McCallister, in her book, The inside out of Flies she considers flies are also important pollinators as well as predators of some injurious species either as parasites or active hunters. Of course, the way pesticides are used, all of these insects are declining at the hands of intensive agriculture, mind you with the pollution of waterways with sewage overflows in the previous year or two, aquatic life forms are struggling too, from invertebrates to apex predators such as otters and the less welcome American mink.

One otter expert I know told me that the lock-down hadn't been much help to otters because of people walking along river banks where they'd heard otters had been seen and then scaring the poor creatures by letting their dogs run wild or hanging around trying to take photos. Smart phones are amazing bits of kit but some of the morons who own them are throwbacks to primitive life forms as they frequently have to photograph everything for their selfie collection, which shows an inverse proportion of the number of photos to intelligence. It seems they care little for the nature they invade or terrorise to get their picture. Thank goodness dormice are not easily seen by the common herd.

On the Tuesday, I was back in the office and having dumped my coat, bag and laptop behind the Berlin Wall, went to see how the builders were doing.They were actually finishing up, touching up the paintwork and picking up their dust sheets. Apart from the smell of paint, it looked back to normal which meant that if we admit students after the Easter holiday, we have a functioning laboratory for them to play in, all I have to do now is organise the transfer of twenty boxes containing microscopes down to it. As I have to use the porters, it may take a few days, as they usually show less activity than hibernating dormice. I'll set Diane on them, that should worry them, I know she frightens me to death and I'm her boss, allegedly.

Tom came over at lunchtime with a frozen chicken curry and rice as he knew we had a microwave. With the continuing lockdown we can't eat at restaurants and cafes, we could order take-aways but I don't think his favourite place does them, so it was Bird's Eye or nothing. He even came equipped with his own plate and knife and fork, so this was obviously a premeditated job. Diane and I made do with some rolls I'd had made up at our local bakery, tuna salad in wholemeal bread plus a packet of plain crisps.

Daddy pulled the plate and cutlery out of his carrier bag and asked me to cook it for him. I nearly asked him what was wrong with his arms and legs, but then remembered he was grumbling about all his joints after planting the spuds with Danni and Trish; peculiarly, neither of them seemed affected lower back pain or niggley knees. Before I could step towards the microwave, Diane had snatched his meal from my hand and disappeared into the little room we use for making tea.

"Whit's in thae boxes?" he asked trying to read the labels.

"Stereomicroscopes, remember the leak from the chemistry lab?"

"Och, I leave such things tae ye these days, I've enough on ma plate as it is."

"I got the bank to repair the ones we had damaged and sent them off to the local schools."

He looked aghast at me for a moment then smiled, "St Claire's wid'ne be one o' them wid it?"

"It might, why?"

"I'm sure that headmistress wid tak a bullet fa' ye."

"Oh come off it, Daddy, we only gave them a few old microscopes."

"Like thae one that's in yer study?"

"Very similar," I replied blushing.

"Ye scunner," he smirked shaking his head.

"The insurance company wrote them all off, all twenty, but we found someone who could repair them and Si paid for it through the bank."

"An' wis yer's repaired?"

"Why does that matter, the replacement one is behind you in those boxes, so the university is no worse off. As for the one in my study, I can use it to work from home and also use it to teach the girls a bit about science, seeing the actual item is better than seeing it on a computer screen."

"Like yer ain students?"

"We're complying with the requirements of government, the local council, the university council and what senior staff consider most appropriate in any given circumstances. So it can change on a daily basis, I've already lost one colleague to Covid, I don't wish to lose any more, staff or students.

"Aye, that wis most unfortunate."

"Quite," I agreed and Diane appeared with a plate on a tray and enveloped in steam and the odour of chicken curry - not one of my favourite smells.

"Couldn't you get your secretary to do that for you?" I asked as he tucked in with relish.

"Och no, besides, yon smell wid linger a' efternoon."

"Gee thanks, Daddy," I pouted and he roared with laughter.

After he'd gone, and for several hours later, the office smelt like a Balti curry house.

"That was a lovely roll, Cathy."

"At least they didn't stink like an Indian takeaway."

"Oh I quite like the smell of curry, it's quite..."

"Disgusting," I offered.

"I was going to say, exotic."

"So is Hong Kong sewage works."

"I get a distinct impression, professor, that you don't care for Indian cuisine."

"Give that lady a coconut, got it in one."

"You don't know what you're missing."

"I do, a burnt tongue and vomiting."

"Oh, you're that sensitive."

"You're quite good at guessing games, how about seeing if your typing is equal to it."

She gave me a very funny look, "What is that supposed to mean?" she almost huffed at me.

"Oh and while you're giving your fingers a rest, get those idle porters to shift these boxes down to the lab, the builders should be finished by now and I'd like my office back."

She stood up and definitely huffed as she went back to her desk leaving me to wash up Daddy's dirty plate. I said nothing because I'd only have got, "so, he's your father," and it wasn't worth the aggro.