The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3043 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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The rest of our weekend was spent mostly at home with Julie and Phoebe spending most of Sunday morning and the hot water getting ready to go out on a double date in the afternoon. I suspect Danielle would have been getting very jealous had she not being playing soccer that afternoon for Portsmouth Ladies against Bournemouth Ladies in what was almost a local derby.

She made all sorts of sarcastic comments about her elder sisters monopolising two of the bathrooms while busily slapping on another coat of mascara on her already well loaded lashes. Perhaps one does wear it to play soccer though I don’t think Wayne Rooney subscribes to the practice. Maybe it’s what’s missing in his life along with a few goals—Maybelline waterproof ultra black or whatever brand Danielle is currently using. Personally, I suspect she could ask for discounts for bulk purchases the amount she uses, but then given the chance to do the same at her age, I undoubtedly would. I’m just glad she has a freedom that I didn’t.

While Trish and Hannah were laughing at her yesterday, I notice they use a bit themselves but more discreetly, which I presume is done to minimise the risk of them being told to remove it by their harridan of a mother or their headmistress.

We’re constantly told that boys push the boundaries all the time—so do girls—or my ones do and not just the recently converted to the cause variety, Hannah and Livvie as well as Meems are quite capable of trying it on when it suits them and I have to occasionally come the heavy parent to either protect them or to remind them I’m still the boss. Simon, being the pushover he is to young women, has now learnt to ask them when they ask for permission to do something, ‘have you asked your mother?’ if the answer is no or yes but, he tells them to ask me again. Once ages ago when Trish tried it on with him, he asked her if she’d asked me about whatever it was and her reply honest to the point of bluntness—if that doesn’t sound too Irish—was, ‘Of course I have and she said no, that’s why I’m asking you.’ You have to hand it to her, she’s a trier.

Simon took Danielle to her footie game and stayed to watch as we were having dinner in the evening after it. I did lunch giving David a few hours off and he went off with Amanda to see some exhibition somewhere. I’d seen one yesterday of nature’s finest at Arne, so I was quite happy to make up for it today. I made up a pile of ham rolls for lunch and with a side salad the family helped themselves. I did it early so Danni could eat and run about in the afternoon.

Tom was out in his garden and Trish and Meems were helping him pick beans or something when she came rushing in. “Come quick and see this, Mummy,” she exhorted.

“What is it?” I asked following her out into the garden.

“Some sort of bug thing.”

I arrived to see them standing and peering at something on a bush below. “Och, here’s yer ma, she’ll ken whit it is.”

“I thought you were a biologist, too,” I fired back at him.

“I am,” he retorted, “one wha chops things up tae see hoo they work, no one o’ those who just count things and call themsel’s scientists.”

“What is it, Mummy?” asked Meems looking so closely I’m surprised it hadn’t climbed up her nose.

“It’s a great green bush cricket, even your grandfather should have known that.”

“What’s the big razor thing on its backside?” asked Trish.

“It’s a female and that’s its ovipositor, it’s how it lays eggs.”

“What by slashing things with it, it looks jolly sharp,” observed Trish.

“Can I pick it up?” asked Trish.

“Apparently they can bite,” I said to discourage her.

She withdrew her hand very quickly muttering, “Stupid insect, anyone can see I’m not going to hurt her.”

“It’s the biggest of the bush crickets in this country but they have bigger ones on the continent. Their ears are on their front legs.”

My statement drew gasps and expressions of astonishment. “On their legs, did God forget them and put them there by accident?” asked the brain. I felt pleased that it was something she didn’t know all about though I could guarantee she’d be on the internet later.

She dashed off to get her camera and moments later appeared and took a few pictures. If they were any good I’d have one or two for my collection. One never knows when they might come in handy for teaching purposes. Okay, I admit it, I can’t ever seem to forget I’m a teacher first and foremost in my professional life and a scientist second, though there’s no conflict of interest between those roles, in fact they each inform the other.

Image courtesy of wikipedia

The bush cricket ambled off into the bush and they got back to gardening activities where I was asked to identify some other bugs and instead of catching up on my ironing, I was playing entomologists trying to explain the differences between homopteran and heteropteran bugs—the wings are either the same or different.

“What this is a homosexual bug?” asked Trish in a loud voice deliberately misconstruing what I’d said. Tom snorted behind me, so a lot of help he was.

“I can’t answer for its sex life, Trish, but if you look carefully you can see its front wings are the same size and texture, so it’s an homopteran bug. The commonest ones you’ll see are probably aphids or greenfly, the ones milked by ants and eaten by ladybirds.”

“Haven’t seen any of those for ages, Mummy.”

“No, they seem to be much down in numbers these days, there’s a foreign one eating them, I believe.”

“What, eating wadybirds?” gasped Mima.

“What cannibals?” asked an equally surprised Trish.

“Not quite, usually that’s attributed to creatures who eat their own species.”

“But another ladybird is eating them?”

“Poow wadybirds,” sighed Mima and Tom had to cough to stop his laughter.

“Yes, effectively some of them are being killed by another ladybird.”

“Which one, if I see any I’ll kill them.”

“The harlequin ladybird, which can have up to twenty one spots and originates in Japan.”

Image courtesy of wikipedia

“Bwoody foweigna,” muttered Meems and Tom had to look the other way.

“Gramps will show you any if he sees them,” I said, “showing his superior scientific method. I’ve got ironing to do.” With that I turned and walked briskly to the house instead of waiting to hear him talk his way out of it.

It was nearly dark by the time Danielle and Simon returned. It was also threatening rain, or looked that way. The ground was still quite dry despite the fact we’d had some the other night because the bird bath was full.

David was doing a roast dinner and I was just finishing two hours of ironing. As predicted, after washing their paws and having drink, Trish was off like a shot to look up bush crickets and harlequin ladybirds. It reminds me of myself as younger though in those days it would have been to my field guides or the encyclopaedias we had.