The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3025 by Angharad Copyright© 2016 Angharad

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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.
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Stephanie was going to analyse my previous statement and I stopped her. “Look, you’re on holiday, unless we have a psychodrama, leave the day job behind.”

“Hark who’s talking. She spends all day looking for dormice and then comes on holiday and does the same.”

“Different dormouse, here they have the garden dormouse.”

“That’s semantics.”

“No, Eliomys actually.”

“What?”

“The garden dormouse Eliomys quercinus.”

“You’re on holiday, so stop the professor bit.”

“It’s what I do on holiday, go birdwatching and look at nature purely for pleasure.”

“You do that for a job as well.”

“Oh yeah, so I do—don’t tell anyone they’ll ask me to pay back my salary.”

“You actually enjoy your job, don’t you?”

“Except the begging letters bit.”

“D’you receive many?”

“No I write them trying to get companies to invest in research.”

“Oh, I wondered if you meant it was being married to a millionaire.”

“Very funny—not.”

“Sorreee,” she said blushing.

“I enjoy the teaching and learning, I don’t really mind the marking, but acting as a saleswoman for my department, is not my thing and I hate it.”

“I wonder how long that will take before the NHS is doing it, Mental Health services sponsored by John Lewis; get two hundred bonus card points the next time you attend for a fracture—invalid if you have had a broken bone in the past six months.”

“Who would sponsor that one then?” I asked.

“Tesco or Sainsbury’s.”

“Tesco points or Nectar points on a fracture—that is sick?”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“Is that pounds and pence or, cubic centimetres?”

“Cathy, I’m serious.”

“No, you’re Stephanie, I know this is true because I have seen your name badge in the hospital.”

“How do you know I’m not just impersonating her?”

“Because you’d have said so ages ago.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“That is quite an arrogant statement to make.”

“Yeah, that’s me Lady Arrogance. Never fear a sneer is near.”

“You silly bugger,” she laughed.

“I think that’s one term I shall deny all knowledge of.”

“Silly or bugger?”

“Which d’you think?”

“Because you actually said something, I’d opt for the latter one.”

“Well chosen, Dr Shrink, now are we going to stop analysing each other and just have some fun or are we going to ruin a holiday by not relaxing enough.”

“All right, I surrender. I’ll put my stethoscope in mothballs until we get home.”

“Stethoscope? Since when have psychiatrists used them?”

“Not too often these days unless we’re worried about someone’s blood pressure or heart rhythms.”

“I’d have thought that would be delegated to a nurse.”

“Not always and remember I’m a physician as well.”

“I assumed that rather than a surgeon.”

“Uh no thanks - too messy for my liking.”

“That’s what I’d heard, psychiatrists are doctors who don’t like getting their hands dirty.”

“So?”

“Just saying.” We both shrugged as if to say, so what, then I asked if she wanted some tea.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

I made us some tea and we sat outside enjoying the sunshine and keeping an eye on the children who were playing badminton in the garden, well on the patio as much of the garden is paved over or taken up by the swimming pool.

“D’you ever think about retiring?” Stephanie asked as we sipped our teas.

“As in like a million years time the way the government are pushing the ages of qualification upwards.”

“No simply because you could finish work and let Simon keep you. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“That would probably be more successful than me keeping him.”

“So do you?”

“Do what?”

“Think about it?”

“Letting Si keep me?”

“Yes—jeez you are so provocative.”

I smirked. “Frequently.”

“You think about it frequently?”

“Yes.”

“Does that mean you’re not really happy in your job?”

“Is anybody really happy all the time in their job?”

“What about footballers and the other overpaid schoolboys?”

“If they lose and their bonuses go west, would they be happy then?”

“No but don’t you dream of riding a bike for money?”

“Not really, with my level of fitness I wouldn’t earn very much.”

“I’d heard you were very good.”

“You’d have to ask Simon about that, but I don’t get too many complaints.”

“Are we still talking about cycling?”

“Cycling? I thought we were talking about sex.”

“Sex?” gasped Stephanie and only just avoided inhaling her tea.

“Yeah, you know when two or three are gathered together they usually talk about sex.”

“Isn’t that a deliberate misquote of biblical...”

“Proportions, mayhaps?” I interrupted and she chuckled.

“You are absolutely barking, you wicked woman.”

“Is that a clinical term?”

“In your case—definitely. Barking as a dormouse.”

“I think I prefer as nutty as a dormouse’s dinner.”

“Hey that’s really good, Cathy.”

“Except they’re just as likely to be eating insects as hazelnuts.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, they really do feed on insects in the late spring and summer and I’ve been wondering how they survive when they’re found in areas without nuts.”

“I thought that was why they were called the hazel dormouse—the clue is sort of in the name, isn’t it?”

“They’re also called common, but they’re every bit as refained as what you and me is.” I offered and Stephanie choked on her tea—serve her right, swallowing and laughing at the same time—deadly combination.

“The crème de la crème,” offered a very poor Miss Jean Brodie imitation.

“Absolutely.”

“So how common are they?”

“Are we meaning in terms of distribution?”

“You’re the expert.”

“Allegedly, though of course I would deny all knowledge of them and anything else if pressed upon the point.”

“Well, Professor Eggspert, are they common or not?”

“No, some are very high born—well at least three or four metres, occasionally higher.”

“If common means, I should meet one while walking about in the countryside, how likely am I to do so?”

“You’re not unless it’s at night and your broomstick got stuck up a tree.”

“Well thank you, Professor; if ever I crash my broomstick into a tree, I’ll make sure I enjoy the acquaintance of your little furry things.”

“Check they are dormeece not yellow-necked mice.”

“Why?”

“They bite.”

“How will I tell the difference?”

“The YNM if male, will be dragging his bollocks around behind him.”

She smirked and rolled her eyes at my silliness.

“I’m telling you, they have, proportionally, the largest scrotum in the rodentia.”

“You are joking?”

“I’m not.”

“Anything else I should know about these over endowed critters?”

“Yeah, they’ve got yellow necks.”

“Yellow-necked mouse—duh—you know I’d never have thought of that myself.”

“Glad I came.”

“Anything else?”

“Their Latin name is Apodemus flavicollis.”

“So glad you told me that.”

“I try to shine the light of learning upon the dark places of ignorance.”

“Is that more arrogance?”

“Absolutely.”