The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1661 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

The alarm seemed to go off before I’d closed my eyes. Thank goodness it was Sunday, although, the government had purloined an hour from everyone by moving the clocks forward an hour. The reason for this, has nothing to do with daylight but in the secret agenda of saving supplies of sleep. Apparently, the cost of sleep on the international market has shot up. Of course our lot import it, we hardly make anything in the United Kingdom anymore, except a hash of things.

Now it looks like the petrol and diesel tanker drivers might come out on strike–so I expect we’ll see panic buying at the pumps. Instead of rolling over and going back to sleep, I jumped out of bed, and dressed quickly and quietly. A few minutes later, I was in the car and heading to our nearest supermarket and filling up my tank with diesel and three plastic fuel carrier things. Well, I can hardly call them cans, can I?

Once back, I took Si’s car and did the same, then Daddy’s and the Mondeo, then lastly, Stella’s. I spent over two hundred pounds on fuel, but at least we all had full tanks–though they won’t notice.

It was now after eight, in British Summer Time (BST) or Greenwich Mean Time/ Universal time plus one hour. I let myself back into the kitchen, having closed the gates and put my diesel in the garage in a particularly cool spot, not that diesel is that flammable, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

No one seemed to be up. Even Tom was not about unless he’d gone out on foot–perhaps taken his mad mutt for a mooch. The stupid animal spends more time sniffing than walking.

I started shutting cupboard doors loudly and switched on the radio at a level above the usual level. I had to go to Classic FM because Radio 4 was doing the Sunday service, as in act of worship. Eventually, some sleepyheads emerged.

“Gosh it’s nearly half past eight,” I said after glancing at the clock, then boiling the kettle and finally, placing some bread in the toaster. By this time, three girls were fighting for my attention and the noise that made brought down Jacquie, followed minutes later by Danny who looked as if he was still awake.

“You’re up early, Mum,” yawned Danny.

“I’m not, and you’re later than usual.”

“No I’m not, it’s only eight o’clock, now.”

“It isn’t, darling, it’s nearly ten.”

“How can I be two hours behind everyone else?” Danny seemed totally fazed by it.

“Did you alter your watch last night?” I queried.

“Yeah, I put it back an hour, same as everyone else.”

“Not everyone, Danny, the rest of the country put theirs forward an hour.”

“Forward, Trish told me it was back.”

“It was a joke,” smiled Trish weakly.

“It wasn’t funny. I might have been playing football this morning.”

“Diddums, well make your own stupid decisions yourself, next time.”

“I knew the clocks changed, I just couldn’t remember which way.”

“That’s easy, in March they spring forwards, and in October they fall backwards.”

“Hey, that’s clever, spring in spring and fall back in autumn. Pity, Trish didn’t know it.”

“I did know it, I was joking you.”

“I think you mean, you were playing a joke on your brother?” I challenged.

“Yeah, well it’s all the same–innit?”

“Not quite, sweetheart, for reasons which I won’t go into now, it will only confuse the issue.”

I took a bite of my toast and while I was chewing, Livvie asked, “Is this about transitive and intransitive verbs, Mummy?” Once I’d stopped coughing, choked by my own toast, I nodded.

“Transitive? Aren’t those people who cross dress, Mum?”

“No, stupid, transitive means it’s a verb with a direct object,” Trish hurled at him.

“I’m not stupid, you’re the stupid one, putting the clock back an hour.”

“You did incorrectly use an intransitive verb, Trish,” I suggested to her.

“So bloody what?” with that she stormed off up the stairs nearly knocking Simon over as he came down them.

“What got into her?” he asked.

“She incorrectly used an intransitive verb,” said Livvie.

“She what? She’s seven years old...” he responded.

“Eight,” corrected Livvie.

“Okay, she’s eight years old, how the f...” he moderated his next word in view of his audience, ...lipping heck is she supposed to know the difference between a transitive and intransitive verb–I’m thirty five years old and I don’t know it.”

“It’s simple really, Daddy,” began Livvie, “transitive verbs have a direct object, like you saw Trish. Intransitives don’t, I joke, which was what Trish did wrong, she was joking someone, which you can’t do, it’s like dying, you can’t die someone.”

“Yes you can,” smiled Danny, “I could dye you pink.” He laughed and Livvie glowered at him.

“That’s a different dye, stupid.”

“Duh, so what, you said I couldn’t do it–I did.”

“That was cheating, Danny, you used a homophone.”

“I didn’t touch the phone, let alone a gay one.”

“Okay–that’s it, the breakfast table is not the place to discuss the finer points of grammar. So come on, just eat your breakfast and go and do something.” I finished my now cold toast and even colder tea. I enjoyed neither. Leaving Simon in charge, I went off to see where Trish was.

She was sitting on her bed reading the The Voyage of Charles Darwin, one of my books. “I didn’t know you had that book.”

“Sorry, I meant to ask. We’ve been doing Darwin in religious studies, and they keep saying it’s only a theory, evolution.”

“Okay,” I nodded, “So why didn’t you come to see me, I could have directed you to easier sources than that.”

“Nah, it’s quite nice actually, and has lovely pictures.” It was a BBC edition from 1978 when they apparently did a drama series on the life of Darwin, including his pivotal voyage aboard the HMS Beagle, when he began to formulate his theory of evolution through natural selection. I got the book in a second hand book shop.

“It says that Captain Fitzroy killed himself because he couldn’t cope with Darwin’s ideas. Is that right, Mummy?”

“Back in those days, when Darwin, supported by Huxley and others from the scientific lobby first published his theory, he was attacked by the church, who claimed the world wasn’t old enough to give the time for evolution to work. They used evidence including a very detailed calculation based on the Bible by Archbishop Ussher, who suggested that the world began in 4004 BC, he even gave the date–some time in October.”

“But I thought dinosaurs lived millions of years ago, Mummy?”

“They did, sweetheart, Ussher’s calculation is flawed because the Bible isn’t what they thought it was.”

“It’s a book, Mummy, what did they think it was?”

“Bible, means book, so yes it’s a book alright, but they claimed it was written by God.”

“Wasn’t it then?”

“Um–no. I could accept that it was written by various men who considered they were inspired by their God, but even that is pushing it. It’s based on an oral tradition, which means in the days before many people could read and write, people told their histories and traditions to each other by word of mouth–they told stories, which because they weren’t written down, could change in the telling over time.”

“But wouldn’t God make sure they told the truth?”

“I doubt that very much, considering the lies promulgated in his name ever since.”

“Oh. I thought it was true.”

“No, it’s very flawed, and only people who have a very simple view of religion, we call fundamentalists, believe it all to be written by god and gospel truth. None of it is, it’s all suffered at the hands of man, who may have had all sorts of axes to grind.”

“So is Darwin right and the Bible wrong, Mummy?”

“You can’t compare the two, sweetheart, Darwin’s theory was based on observation and experiment, the Bible is, as I said earlier, based on stories from long ago. There is increasing evidence to prove evolution, there is little to prove the Bible except bits of archaeology which may or may not prove the historical detail.”

“So the Bible is right in places?” I could see she was needing some solace on this matter.

“There’s some historical stuff in it which is probably right, but things like the creation and Adam and Eve, are just stories made up to explain where we came from because people didn’t know. Now we know, we evolved from a common ancestor with the apes, and various twigs off the hominid branch which eventually gave rise to Homo sapiens–although, it might be a wrong name for us, because we’re not very wise.”

“How about Homo stupidus, Mummy?” Trish chuckled.

“It might well be more appropriate, kiddo. C’mon let’s go down and sign a peace treaty with the others, eh?”

“Alright, Mummy.” She put the book down and we descended the stairs holding hands.