The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1912 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

It was about mid morning when it kicked off. I was up to my armpits in writing a lesson plan–I know, you thought I just went out there and spoke inspirationally and had them all swooning in the aisles–yeah, well think again. I do the same as everyone else, work to a plan–the inspirational stuff comes from the interaction with the audience. If they’re all asleep, I tend to tip toe out so as not to wake them up–unless I’m feeling buoyant in which case, I’ll get very loud and wake them out of their slumbers.

Anyway, there I was deciding how I’d explain some dilemma or other, when the phone rang and I answered it. It was sort of annoying me from about two feet away, so I had to answer it or chuck it out the window. The latter was quite tempting as I was just about to solve my teaching dilemma, instead I answered the phone and changed the world for ever. So? Don’t you ever exaggerate?

“Hello, Dr Watts?”

“Ooh, Babes, I just love it when you're all academic–let’s make love in your gown and mortar board.”

“Simon, you are crazy–I’m in a meeting with the dean.” I wasn’t but he didn’t know that.

“Oh–um–sorry,” I could feel the heat from his blush over the phone.

“Is it important?” I asked pretending to apologise to someone in my imaginary meeting.

“Um–yeah–I suppose it is, look can you get David to organise something special for dinner? I’ve got a fellow director coming home with me this evening.”

“So why can’t you speak with David?”

“Look you know much more about what to eat and so on than I do.”

“So who is this mystery guest?”

“It’s no mystery, it’s a guy called Geoff Arthurs.”

“D’you want the children present or not?”

“That’s fine.”

“What is?”

“The kids, just make sure they’re tidy, won’t you?”

“Don’t I always?”

“Yeah, but this guy is quite a big cheese in another bank as well as ours.”

“I hope I’m not supposed to seduce him or anything.” Oops, I shouldn’t have said that.

“Certainly not. You can seduce me, but wait until after the meeting.”

“Meeting?”

“Yeah, we’re going to have to borrow a room for after dinner.”

“Why are you having a meeting at home?” I wasn’t sure I was very happy about this arrangement.

“I’ll tell you later–wear something nice won’t you?” Before I could ask why he rang off.

I called David and asked if he could do a special dinner with an extra guest present. He indicated he could, did I want three or five course? I confirmed three course with possibly cheese and biscuits as well. He was fine about it and I suspect relished the challenge just a little. I’d try to tidy up my study when I got home and they could use that if they could keep Catherine or Puddin’ out. One of the little horrors had pinched the key, so the door didn’t lock anymore. I had a, ‘Do not disturb’ sign which I hung on the door if I was busy in there.

At lunch I went out for a roll with Pippa and let Tom know what Simon had requested. “Och, they cud use ma study,” he declared and went off for his curry. Pippa and I strolled over to the staff cafeteria and ordered a roll and a cuppa.

“How’s the lesson plan coming on?” she asked nibbling the end of her baguette.

“Okay, I guess. It’s so boring compared to actually teaching. It’s all abstract.”

“What the teaching?”

“No the planning. Once I start interacting with the audience, it brings its own sort of energy and guarantees that no two lectures are the same.”

“Which bit you writing?”

“Introduction to ecology. I’ll have them wandering round the lecture theatre before they finish.”

“I’ve heard your lectures are quite good fun.”

“They’re supposed to be corrupting, I mean expanding, young minds.”

“Is that why you have twice as many attenders as anyone else?”

“Nah, they’re all just hoping I’m going to do a rerun of the dormouse juggling.”

“So, how is it we have students from outside the faculty coming to your lectures?”

“Do we? I just tell ’em to sign in, I never look at the sheet afterwards–they come to you.”

“We’ve got them from Biochem and Physics attending your stuff.”

“What? Since when?”

“Since last year, after your film went out.”

“Why?”

“They’re all hoping you’re going to wear your shorts and that skimpy top.”

“In January?”

“They are adolescents, Cathy.”

“Yeah, but we expect them to be able to tell what day it is.”

“See, your sexual magnetism just overcomes all in its wake.”

“What?” I said choking on some tuna.

“You’re the most popular teacher in the university.”

“Don’t be silly–how can that be?”

“You’re a celebrity, you’re a sexy woman or a role model for wannabes, and your lectures are entertaining by all accounts. I must come and watch one some time.”

I felt as self-conscious as the first time I walked in here in a skirt–the university–I mean. Tom made me go down the labs and deal with the rumours, Neal was so helpful that day and now I’ve got his younger sister staying with us. I was almost too embarrassed to stay in the cafeteria.

“You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?” I asked after recovering from my inhaled tuna.

“No, you know you’re popular.”

“I know we have loads of female wannbes who just wanna handle a dormouse.”

“D’you know that they sell two hundred of those toy things every year in the university shop.”

I didn’t, I’d suggested we got a company to design a small furry thing that resembled a dormouse, which I’d hoped would be small enough to use as a key fob. They weren’t, but at four pounds, I suppose they made nice little presents with Portsmouth University printed on the bottom. So the shop was in credit as well–I know they cost about thirty pence to make in China–the design was the hard bit. They’re all based on Spike, complete with tiny quiff, but she can take the publicity. Thank goodness, they didn’t do ones of me–that would have me running off to a monastery in the Pyrenees.

After this revelation I returned to my little broom cupboard of an office–maybe I should ask for something bigger, as the star attraction–but any thoughts I had of continuing my teaching plan was overshadowed by my self-consciousness. I felt like one of the undergrads again–oh shit.

At three o’clock the phone rang, “Aren’t you going to collect your offspring?”

“Hell, is that the time?”I answered Pippa’s question, “I’ve got to dash–oh and thanks.”

“You were really shocked lunch time weren’t you?”

“Sort of, I don’t know why–I suppose a bit like not wanting to look in the mirror in case you aren’t too bad looking or in case you are.”

“Poor, Cathy–you are beautiful you know.”

“I’ve got to go,” I said blushing profusely, part of me hated being told it and part of me hated being it. To no one in particular, I announced as I got in the car, “They pay me for my fucking mind–my fucking mind.” I got funny looks from one of the porters but so what.