The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2437 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I didn’t tell the girls that Simon was arriving a day early, which meant I could collect him in the car rather than the minibus. Being a typical girly I don’t like driving large vehicles and the minibus still feels like a juggernaut compared to my Jag, which in itself is not a small car.

Slipping away while the others were engaged with a swimming race I drove to the airport and collected my hubby who looked tired when he arrived. When I told him I thought he looked tired he said it was being married to the world’s number one crime fighter cum superhero cum dormouse trainer, which caused his fatigue. I told him I was definitely going to stop leaping tall buildings in a single bound. He told me he was grateful for small mercies and would love a beer.

We stopped at a supermarket on the way and bought a case of cheap local beer and one bottle from the fridge which he opened and drank on the way to the villa. I beeped the remote and the gates opened. It wasn’t long before we were swarmed over by a mass of dripping wet girls who paid far more attention to their dad than they did me. I left them all to it, put the beer in the refrigerator and started getting lunch.

Simon slept after his jacket potato and second bottle of beer, I was beginning to wonder if he needed a holiday more than I did. He woke up about four and had a dip in the pool after I’d unpacked his case. He had brought some new mugs and some sweets for the kids—did I tell you how expensive branded chocolate and sweets were here? I hid the chocolate bars in a paper bag at the back of the fridge, thereby hoping they wouldn’t investigate what was in it.

The evening was quiet and as they’d all been racing about earlier they went to bed and zonked. We stayed up for a little longer having a glass of chilled white wine while we talked.

“So what’s troubling you?” I asked.

“Apart from some nasty little toerag trying to kill you, you mean?”

“Oh, that’s run of the mill stuff, what’s really eating you?”

“Nothing,” he said meaning the exact opposite.

On me pressing him for more details of nothing he agreed that there was something. It surprised me when he told me. “The vote on Scottish independence, next week.”

“What, that you miss out on a vote?”

“I don’t get a vote.”

“If you’d been up at the castle, you would have done.”

“I’m not up at the castle, so I don’t.”

“You could have got a postal vote.”

“How d’you know I didn’t?”

“I don’t.”

“I was tempted, I really was. The yes vote is a vote by turkeys for Christmas.”

“Is it that bad?”

“The pound lost against the dollar and several banks lost share capital including our own.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I know, just impotent rage.”

“Is it going to be that bad?”

“Probably worse than all the projections, I can see the economy going tits-up if the truth were known.”

“I thought we had the best economy in Europe.”

“It’s very frail, but I could just see that bastard Salmond enjoying every bit so he can get his fetish fulfilled.”

“I thought you approved of Scottish independence.”

“Not with him in charge besides without the Scottish MPs, Labour will never win an election again because the Tories have a natural majority in England.”

“Oh, not so good.”

“You did ask what was worrying me. An act of union that’s lasted three hundred years and it only takes one tit with a one-track mind to destroy it.”

“I do admit that I find all politicians deceitful at the best of times, out and out liars at the worst.”

“How d’you know when a politician is lying?” he asked me.

“I dunno.” I’d heard it before but am lousy at remembering punch lines.

“When his lips move.”

“Will you pull the bank out of Scotland?”

“Might have to.”

“That’s going to be a real problem, isn’t it?”

“Basically, yes.”

“Anything I can do?”

“Not at the moment, unless you wanna do it.”

“Do what?”

“It—you know.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Jesus, Mary and sodding Joseph.”

“D’you mean sex?”

“Give the lady a coconut.”

“C’mon then, I want to be up early in the morning to get a bike ride in and some bird watching.”

“I’m so glad I feature so fully in your plans, wifey.”

“You know how it is...”

“No I don’t, perhaps you’d care to enlighten me.”

We went to bed after tooth cleaning, toenail cutting, earwax removal, swimming pool descaling and watching all of Wagner’s Ring Cycle. Look if you need me to describe what we did, you’re reading the wrong story, but suffice it to say we both fell asleep after some bedroom gymnastics and a little wash afterwards—goodness I was sore, might have to rethink a bike ride. At least with our satellite television, I could record bits of the La Vuelta and from Sunday the Tour of Britain. I looked at the clock, Simon was snoring his head off, it was Saturday already—damn.

I did struggle to get up early though I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or not. Not the way I felt at present. I abandoned the bike ride idea, I was a tad tender for a race saddle—I wondered if Marianne Vos had that problem.

Instead of riding, I decided to walk to the hides above the lagoon, so carrying telescope on its tripod with my folding stool, binoculars and notepad, I hoisted my ruckie onto my shoulders and strode off drinking a cup of tea and eating a slice of toast as I went. I left the cup just inside the gate and finished the charred bread as I walked. It was a beautiful morning as I walked, the air warm but nowhere near as hot as it would get by noon or early afternoon. Swallows and martins swooped on unsuspecting flying insects and I was just pleased to feel alive.

I watched the waders and herons at the lake then wandered on a bit further looking to see if I could find any hedgerow birds, not that they really do hedges here, too dry I suppose, but there were plenty of trees so birds should be there somewhere. I stopped having been spotted by some blue tits who scolded me and I was just bout to move on when I saw some movement on the ground ahead of me. I froze except to raise my binoculars to my eyes. I couldn’t believe it, standing there in an erect pose was a pine marten. Had it seen me or was it hunting? A moment later it scarpered disappearing into the undergrowth but left me with an incredible sense of privilege to have seen one of the more elusive animals on this island. Boy, did I feel good?