The Weekly Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3292 by Angharad Copyright© 2021 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 day started off with some good news, my query to the Scottish Government about licensing the neonicotinoid, Imidacloprid for use in treating sea lice in farmed salmon stated that they hadn't licensed the chemical nor had they been asked to and that the story was due to a misunderstanding by some newspapers, obviously the one I read was one of them. It does however get into the water course from its use as flea killer on dogs. Dogs enjoy playing in or around water, chasing sticks and so on, and the poison washes off them and into the watercourse. Dogs can also do a lot of damage to wildlife without nasty chemicals and there are several cases of them harassing or killing otters and wildfowl. It seems the problem is increasing because loads of people got themselves a dog during lockdown who had never previously had a canine and have no idea how to train or care for it.

In a similar way the countryside has been used by many people who previously had no time or inclination to visit it, some have found it life-changing, or fascinating others have simply continued dumping their litter, damaging fences and crops, letting fires or barbecues cause wildfires as happened in Wareham forest in Dorset. Arguably, these countryside virgins should have been taught how to respect other people's property and how to conduct themselves and their dogs in the presence of wildlife, but they haven't.

When I was a kid I remember being taught the 'Countryside Code' in school, we had posters up and the one which made me feel sad showed a calf bleeding after contact with a discarded can, in reality it's more likely to trap a mouse or vole but even that is unacceptable and no one should litter anywhere. They should also be aware that farmers have the right to shoot their dogs if they are running loose near sheep or other domestic animals.

While it's probably true that farmers do more damage to the countryside and nature than careless morons and their dogs, it doesn't excuse stupid dog owners or lazy litter droppers and I'd be happy for them to be prosecuted. Sadly, farmers seem able to avoid prosecution much of the time for their crimes as do water companies for illegal discharge of untreated sewage partly because the Environment Agency which is supposed to monitor these things has been cut by 75% of its funding since this party came to power ten or more years ago. Apparently, the plans to reduce flood risks have also been affected by the same cuts, so now we know who to blame if we are flooded - sue the government for lying and cutting services.

While on about flood risk those who lay artificial turf in their gardens increase the risk of flooding so a recent study discovered, claiming that the shorter the plastic grass the greater the run-off, whereas real grass holds back nearly all the water thus slowing it down and slowing down flood risk. It seems like common sense to me, but we now have an official report which confirms it. It also demonstrates, as we all knew, that people who pave their gardens or lay down patios increase the run off effect of the water and add to flood risk.

I find as I walk or drive around our towns and cities that the same people who seem to need to control nature, also erect walls and fences that prevent access to hedgehogs or trap them inside their garden.

I'm well aware that in a sunny garden, sitting out to eat or relax is a short lived pleasure due to our fickle weather, but need we concrete over everything? Seems that some need to.

Diane and I talked about the above until I had to go off to the university council meeting with a brief to talk them into supporting a new policy on abuse and harassment of women or minority groups of either a sexual, or racist element, the sexual including harassment of gay or transgender people, staff or students as well as sexual harassment or abuse of women. I recalled Sammi's first job in a bank where the manager abused her dreadfully but because she was so naïve she didn't realise that someone rubbing your bottom or seemingly making frequent 'accidental' contact with your breasts is tantamount to sexual assault. I'm sure that there are loads of first year women students who feel equally unsure of what abuse or assault is until they've undergone some and then it's too late.

I notice that in Pakistan where sexual abuse or assault of women is endemic, the prime minister there, claimed it was partly the fault of the women for showing too much skin or wearing too few clothes if they were raped. As he lived in the UK for many years playing professional cricket, he should know better. While women and some men, may put themselves at risk by visiting known danger areas, the only ones to blame for rape or sexual assault are the perpetrators, the same goes for sex-workers, usually women, who are assaulted, raped and sometimes even murdered, they place themselves at risk through their jobs, but to assault or abuse them is still illegal and entirely the fault of the perpetrator. Drunken female teenagers make themselves extra vulnerable to assault or rape but they are still the victims and as such should be protected and the predators punished but boy, didn't I have to work to get the council to accept my arguments with mutters of man-hater, lesbian and feminist being made against me.

It was only when I responded to one of the gainsayers by asking how he would feel if the victims were his wife or daughter, that he actually listened to what I was saying but the change in his attitude was almost 'a road to Tarsus' conversion and he brought several of the old fuddy-duddy professors on board and Tom and I plus two other women professors, pushed it through and gained an updated policy which could start to deal with some of the wayward young male students who come to university to booze and screw their way through three or more years of their lives without a single thought about the girls they will hurt doing so.

I undertook to write a brochure for new students warning about the risks of abuse, giving some experiences of girls and one boy who underwent some very unpleasant ordeals at the hands of abusers and sexual predators. The boy was very badly affected and left the university suffering a breakdown and subsequent PTSD. Sadly, the perpetrator got off as the victim was in no position to give testimony in court but the universe took care of the matter and the perp died from inhalation of vomit after collapsing in a toilet cubicle through over indulgence of alcohol. While it didn't help the victim he'd effectively destroyed it did mean he couldn't do the same to anyone else.

I'm painting a very dark portrait of university, but it applies to a minority of students not the major group who, until Covid, enjoyed their freedom and hopefully their studies for three years and went away rewarded with a degree or diploma of some sort and then went on to lead productive and possibly happy lives.

All I know is I and my colleagues are responsible for making their experience a safe one if we possibly can, which doesn't mean it's big brother surveillance, but it does point out the risks and the consequences for those who wish to take them.

I got back to my office and dumped a pile of papers on Diane's desk. I told her that I had to go through them with her after lunch, with Tom of course, who else? She huffed and puffed until I reminded her she could pass on the typing to the departmental secretary, who was going to be based next door and for whom I had just received funding. I also pointed out that she would become my PA and get a pay rise as well. That short statement seemed to make her day and instead of grumbling she promised me a cuppa upon my return and wished me, 'bon appetit.'.

"Ye used a lot of personal anger today, didn't ye?" asked Tom over lunch.

"Can you blame me?" I asked in return as I tucked into my tuna jacket potato. "I was abused at home, in school and elsewhere and no one listened to my complaints, including a local policeman who I thought I vaguely knew. Turned out he was homophobic and he considered anything that happened to my femmy arse was my own fault for being such a girly-boy."

"No, lassie, I canna blame ye, in fact, I applaud ye fa' havin' thae courage tae talk yer policy through thae auld dunderheids, wha shoud hae retired lang sine. When ye challenged auld Wilkins to think whit he wid dae if it were his dochter or missus, I wondered if ye'd manange tae get him onboard, but ye did and then it wis a'doonhill fa thae dissenters."

"I'm exhausted, but I've got to get Diane to sort it into a comprehensive and coherent document and then we can get it typed and circulate it and have it ready as a glossy brochure for new students. But I also feel we need to labour it because girls will still get drunk and raped and boys will still feel it's their right to screw as many girls as they can, plus the odd female predator, but they're quite uncommon, albeit just as much a nuisance. We still have a lot of work to do, but at least I will have achieved something during my time teaching here."

"Ye've achieved a great deal, Cathy, dinna let anyone tell ye different. Ye've transformed yer faculty intae ain o' thae best in England, increased the number o'students getting guid degrees and saved hundreds o' dormice, no tae mention rearing eleven young women and keepin' Simon, Stella and me fed an' watered as well as in line an' ye're still as bonnie as that day I first met ye in toon..."

"And rescued me from Big Mac and friends, did I ever say thank you for that, Daddy?"

"Aye, I expect sae, but ye can again if ye wish," he said smiling smugly at me, instead I shoved another mouthful of tuna and potato into my face thinking we were quits on the issue.

Practically all the students had gone home with only the research students continuing to haunt the place, most of whom are post-graduates. We had the prospect of a few weeks holiday and also dealing with a houseful of bored girls who had two months holiday coming up. I'd almost talked Simon into coming to Menorca with us if the Covid travel rules permitted it, and it looked as if it should I'd also arranged to meet with someone from the university of Mahon who dealt with mammal biology, to discuss a joint project between our two universities on the study of the Garden dormouse Eliomys quercinus.

That could mean spending some time in Menorca to supervise some post-grad students, for which I don't really have the time but it's a dormouse which is declining throughout its range, more apparently at the Eastern end, Russia and so forth but is also declining in Western Europe, they think through loss or change of habitat. The Balearics have their own subspecies and while the IUCN (International Union for the Conservation of Nature) only list it as near threatened, I suspect it is probably more vulnerable than generally thought, which is why I'd like to initiate a joint study, then I have to find a sponsor. However, if we manage to sell the idea to the BBC or other broadcasters for a film showing our researches and I agree to do the script and present it, we may find some money and it's also possible that Simon, who has a friend in a Spanish bank, amongst the directors, we could possibly tap them for a few euros as well.

Now to get home and discover why Danielle is not happy with playing for Reading despite what we thought was a mutually agreeable contract. Always something to do with a houseful of girls.