The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 2072 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“You look tired,” observed Simon as we sat drinking a glass of wine after the youngsters went up to bed. I’d had to read to them–they’d not had much contact with me, so I felt obliged to do so.

In between getting home and eating, I had to feed little Lizzie who I’m sure is getting some teeth–it sure felt like she was, that and developing a bite like a badger. I thought my nipples were going to be chewed off at one point.

Lizzie was asleep in her pram in the hallway as we chatted in the kitchen. I’d marked a hundred exam papers in the last couple of days and felt punchy with tiredness. Adding the extra stress of the Cindy affair just sapped my energy some more. I’d told Tom I was taking a day off tomorrow and he reminded me I’d agreed to lead a field trip to the woodland the bank had bought as my nature reserve. I’d agreed it so long ago that I’d forgotten it and I hadn’t looked in my diary–not the one on my desk, the one in my bag I knew didn’t contain it.

Oh well, a walk in the countryside–a change is a good as a rest–so they say, whoever they are, they’re both idiotic and wrong. I am tired, I need a rest, but life seems to say otherwise. Bugger, Le Tour starts on Saturday–next year I’m going to either take the month off and follow it around, or I’m going to take the month off and watch it on telly. It might mean I have to kill all the others first.

“So what does this Cindy look like?” asked Simon reaching for the bottle to have another glass. I declined anymore for me.

“A girl.”

“Duh,” he rolled his eyes.

“She’s not as pretty as Trish, but she passes alright, as far as I could see.”

“Okay, they can’t all be as beautiful as you,” he smiled at me.

“You should be Welsh, Simon Cameron, because that was pure Welsh flannel.”

“You cut me to the quick.”

“Yeah, sure I do. I’m off to bed.” I pecked him on the cheek and was in bed ten minutes later, the taste of toothpaste on my tongue. I made a mental note to tell David to get the usual brand next time, this one wasn’t as nice.

I was vaguely aware of Simon getting into bed and putting his arm around my waist but after that, nothing, until I woke in the wee sma’ hoors hearing a baby crying. It was Lizzie, and now I was sure she was teething. It wasn’t what I needed but I rubbed some stuff on her gums and gave her a teething ring to chew on. I suspected she was getting a teething cold as well, as her little nose seemed blocked. She finally went off to sleep and I returned to my snoring husband. I had the consolation of knowing I was still alive, I felt a tiredness pain which I wouldn’t were I dead. I crashed out and slept through until Jacquie roused me at eight to say I’d overslept.

Then it was all a blur. She got the girls ready while I threw maps and notebooks into my rucksack together with chocolate and my binoculars. I squeezed the side pocket and was reassured my x10 lens was in there. Then I hunted down my camera and checked the battery–it was okay–thank goodness. I washed down and dressed in camouflage trousers and a green top. Once I put my jacket on, I’d look like a woman soldier.

I dropped the girls off at school and drove off to the university, stopping at a corner shop en route to buy a sandwich for lunch and a croissant for my breakfast–didn’t have time to eat at home. I chewed it as I drove–all highly illegal, but I wasn’t stopped.

It grieved me that I’d just spent four pounds for a bottle of water, a salmon and cucumber sandwich plus a bag of crisps, when I could have got the same at home for half that cost had I got time to make them. I didn’t, so it was a case of buying something or not eat. As we had quite a bit of walking to do, eating was essential to keep going. Thankfully, I had a pack of wipes with me, so I’d be able to clean my hands before eating.

After parking, I cadged a cuppa from Pippa, trying not to yawn too much as I waited for her to make it. “You look tired, Cathy.”

“I’m exhausted and Neal’s baby had me up in the night–she’s teething, puir wee soul.”

Pippa looked at me in astonishment.

“What’s the matter?” I asked looking behind in case someone or something had come in behind me.

“You,” she said, “You sounded like a Scotsman, then.”

“I hope you mean, Scotswoman?”

“Yes, you knew what I meant.”

“Possibly it’s because I am Scots.”

“I thought you came from Bristol?”

“I was born in Dumfries.”

“Oh god, another haggis basher.”

“Aye, sae ye’d best be carefu’, ye Sassenach.” My accent sounded more corny than ever but Pippa seemed oblivious.

“Aye, Dr Finlay,” she said in a squeaky voice in a worse accent than mine as she mimicked the housekeeper from Dr Finlay’s Casebook, an ancient TV series which we’d obviously seen as repeats on something. It gave a bad name to stereotypes but I know my mum liked it.

The field trip was for the extra-mural department. Somehow, I’d agreed to do it without thinking it through. The pick-up point was at the university and as I finished my tea, someone came over from the extra-mural department and brought a bag of lenses over plus a book everyone had to sign if they borrowed one. Just what I needed–more red tape.

The students began arriving, mostly fit elderly, all clad in walking boots and high end jackets and hats. I’d changed into my boots and gaiters–it wasn’t wet where we were going, but ticks can be a problem and there are deer about so Lyme disease is always a possibility. Once everyone was there, I got them all to sign in. We had another member of staff who worked with their department, but she deferred to me as the qualified field biologist.

We all got on the coach–yes, there were enough of them to fill a moderate sized bus. I ran through some rules–there were one or two groans but they all accepted what I said. I also told them that if, and that was a big if, we were lucky, we might see a dormouse. That brought about cheers. My colleague added, “Dr Watts is the dormouse lady, so if she can’t find you one, no one can.” This was accompanied by more cheers.

“Is there much chance of finding one?” she said to me.

“I have no idea,” I said adding, “but the prospect of seeing one usually shuts up the dissenters.” She chuckled at my answer. With that the bus driver told us to sit down and off we went.