The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1697 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Simon made so much din getting undressed and ready for bed that he woke me up, I felt irritated but needed a wee, so I went to the bathroom and back without speaking to him.

“An’ I love you too,” he quipped at me.

“You woke me up,” I complained.

“Sorry, but if you went for a pee you must have been close to waking up anyway.”

I wasn’t alert enough to argue and really all I wanted to do was return to my slumbers, he of course wanted to talk. “I’ve had a godawful day, and I need to sleep.” I turned over away from him.

“Sorry for breathing,” he sighed.

“I raised a hand with my middle finger up,” the cyclists salute to most motorists.

“Charming—well go to flippin’ sleep then.” He sounded as irritated as I was. He read for a while but the light didn’t stop me from sleeping, I was exhausted and felt as if about three weeks sleep was needed to get me back to normal.

When I woke the next morning, he’d gone off to work, presumably his watch alarm woke him, it certainly didn’t wake me. I woke up feeling as tired as I’d been when I went to bed and had probably had too much sleep—some days you can’t win.

I staggered into the shower while various members of the Today programme muttered about the fact that some election in France had deposed the existing president—the pygmy who was married to the seven foot tall model who fancied herself as a singer. I couldn’t say that I was especially worried, because I doubted that a change of government in a foreign country was going to affect my life, however, as I showered I began to see how it could by affecting the stability of the euro and that could affect the bank as well as British jobs and exports.

As I dried my hair, I heard that Greece had also had an election and it was unlikely anyone would be able to form a government there, more problems for the euro—just what Simon didn’t need.

I got myself dressed and sorted my hair—I put it up this time, threw on a bit of makeup and perfume and got the girls up, then called Danny and Julie. Julie would call Jacquie if she didn’t hear me.

I supervised the girls showers and dried and combed their hair, each was put into a ponytail and sent off to dress. By the time they came downstairs I had the first lot of toast done and a cuppa made.

I dropped them off in school and went to the university. I had more tutorials today, of the group variety. I’d use the Spike entrance as a way to lift the atmosphere at the end. It worked a treat, and it was useful that Spike was used to being handled because several wanted to hold her.

The same grumbles had arisen, so I was beginning to think they were likely to be right across the course as I’d intimated to Tom yesterday. Quite what we did about it, I wasn’t sure. I’d arranged a meeting with all the tutors and the administration to discuss the problem and had invited Tom as well. The list was slightly longer than it had been but the same things came up time and again—they wanted me as their teacher for all modules, and for all the fieldwork, despite the other field leaders being better qualified in their own environments. I was a reasonable all-rounder in most habitats but would soon be out of my depth in a marine environment, even a littoral one was challenging for me—the obvious shellfish like whelks or limpets and the odd small fish or sea anemone, I could identify and talk about a little. The only thing I was reasonable at was the bird life, being a lifetime birdwatcher, and even then gulls in eclipse plumage confused me, and some waders can be awkward in winter plumage—although a few of them we don’t usually see on the coast in their breeding duds because they’re up in the hills.

As for mammals on the seashore, rats, possibly a seal or two and washed up corpses of porpoises and dolphins—usually the former, which are often killed by the dolphins, about which people have the most ridiculous anthropomorphic ideas.

I think I mentioned the porpoise which turned up in someone’s garden on Portland, presumably put there as a practical and smelly joke—the only thing we know is it didn’t swim there.

I remember being part of a group sent out by Sussex university to collect one or two corpses of porpoises from a beach. We were sent in a pickup to pick them up—the smell wasn’t very nice, especially when we did pick them up and carry them to the truck.

The post mortems were inconclusive but tended to suggest the cause of death was drowning—as they’re mammals, which is easy to forget—we forget they can’t breathe in water but have adapted to coping with taking deep breaths which they can hold for several minutes, probably longer: but they’re not fish and so need to find air every so often to live. Otherwise they are very well adapted to a marine environment and deep water.

We still don’t know what causes mass strandings of small whales or dolphins but we do know that the distress calls of one will attract others and that they are adapted to calling through water. Some suggest sonar used by various navies and other boats confuses them; another is some disease of the balance organ in the ear or generalised sickness possibly made worse by pollutants which we dump in the seas and oceans by the billions of tons every day. Seems absurd that a clever ape can destroy these princes of the ocean by accident as well as the deliberate slaughter in Japan each year, but then I consider any culture which still does whaling is pretty barbarous—especially as they deliberately lie about it—for research purposes—my arse. Most of it is sold for human consumption perhaps by the same people who buy dirty knickers from vending machines.

I consulted my list, and wondered how easy it would be to respond to the student’s gripes—I couldn’t do everything—it wasn’t physically possible and even if it were, I wouldn’t want to do it. I have young children who come first, plus my survey work; so time wasn’t available to do much more than I already do. If I hadn’t made that bloody film I might not be in this mess. I had created my own nightmare.

Back in my office I had several pieces of post, mostly relating to the survey, one to doing a talk for charity, another was a circular about field equipment and the final one—I opened without looking at the envelope.

Dear Dr Cameron,

If you would like to apply for this position please contact this office and submit your CV for an interview.

Oh boy, that’s all I need.