The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2752 by Angharad Copyright© 2015 Angharad

---

This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
@@@@@

I awoke to something prodding me. I tried to ignore it but it just kept poking away. I cracked open an eyelid and could see it was still dark. I was prodded again. I opened both eyes. “Can I go and watch the eclipse, Mummy?” I wondered if Einstein’s mother had this sort of problem.

I glanced at the clock, it was five minutes to two in the morning. It was so tempting to say, ‘No go back to bed,’ but I didn’t. Apparently there wouldn’t be one like this for another eighteen years—if she wakes me up to watch that one, I won’t be answerable for my actions. “It’s just starting.”

“You can watch for an hour maximum, then back to bed.” I hissed at her and threw back the covers before getting out of bed. I pulled on some jeans and a sweater over my pyjamas—I wasn’t going to delay getting back to bed—then some socks and shoes. Trish was already dressed; the little urchin must have known I’d let her. At least she came and asked rather than going out by herself and setting off the alarm.

We wrapped up in warm coats and cameras at the ready we went out doors followed by Bramble who wondered if it was breakfast time already, our guard dog didn’t even wake.

The moon was almost due south of us and although bright, it was light enough to see our way quite easily; I did have a torch in my pocket just in case, the shadow of the earth was beginning to cover it from the top. Trish was quite excited and I suppose I was if I thought about it, after all we were watching something happen on a planet a quarter of a million miles away and without any sort of aid. It was enfolding in front of our eyes and it was free for those who wanted to see it.

We each took photos with hand held cameras as the shadow swallowed up our nearest planet. I could quite see how primitive peoples could have felt threatened by witnessing such an event. We knew exactly what was happening and it still stirred ancient emotions. Trish was revelling in it, her piping voice echoing in the driveway.

As the time wore on the area covered by shadow began to turn reddish brown and although we tried, neither of us got much of a photo of it, the colour change, that is. At quarter past three I told her she was to go straight to bed and sleep or I’d never let her do such a thing again. She nodded and we went indoors, she had a little drink and went up to bed. I decided to make a cuppa and it was probably quarter to four when I had a wee before getting back into bed. I cuddled up to Simon who muttered something in his sleep but he felt like my very own radiator.

Eventually I turned over to face away from him and as I was dropping off I felt his arm rest across my waist and I knew I was safe. Crazy, but it’s what happened. Somehow I managed to rouse myself just after the radio alarm went off and dragging myself into the shower hoped the water would wake me up. It did, but I wasn’t sure if either my body or brain really wanted to stay vertical or would prefer to go back to bed. I suspected the latter.

The children woke up as usual for a school day and Julie and Phoebe weren’t too abusive in their thanks for rousing them from their slumbers. Trish told her sisters in great detail how we’d stood and watched the shadow engulf the moon before it turned a brownish orange—a sort of burnt umber colour—if I remember my Windsor & Newton water colour paints correctly.

I yawned my way through the traffic to school making the girls snigger in the seat behind me. Trish seemed unaffected by her interruption of somnolence, it was me who felt knackered.

Once in the refuge of my office and a cup of tea steaming away in the mug on my desk, I managed to stop yawning long enough to start my computer. I had an acknowledgement from Helen Maddison regarding the initial report I’d emailed her the day before. She said the landowner claimed it was all a matter of misunderstanding—she didn’t add ‘deliberate’ as an adjective. He apparently promised to halt the demolition of the woodland until a survey had been carried out by the university and if dormice were seen to be active in the wood, he’d allow the wood to remain and forget the solar panels.

I sent her one back. ‘He might be telling the truth, but I wouldn’t bet on it. Keep checking if you can to make sure he keeps his word. Cathy.’

‘I’m not as daft as I look; met that sort before. If he reneges--he pays as we prosecute. Helen.’

I’ve seen such enthusiasm to protect the countryside wane when the individual realised the system was actually run to protect miscreants. As far as I know it hasn’t changed. If you drain your garden pond and kill a great crested newt by accident, you’ll feel the full force of the law. If you’re a huge property developer and destroy the equivalent of the Taj Mahal or a wood full of ancient trees—you’ll probably get planning permission to build the luxury gated community you always felt part of and be able to claim tax breaks.

I left it to her to deal with, I’d go up and start some of the tubes by the weekend. According to Helen she’d met such twisters before and two of them ended up with huge fines. I wasn’t convinced especially down here in the soggy South, where such things verged on the impossible. If they got Tom Cruise to act in it, I’d ignore his poor acting for a selfie with him in the background.

Lunch arrived as I was drinking my fourth cup of tea, in the shape of tuna salad baguette. Then it was time to collect the monsters and take them home.