Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 2663

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The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike, est. 2007)
Part 2663
by Angharad

Copyright© 2015 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.

The school and the university were immersed in exams—yeah it’s that time of year. Thankfully, I’m not too involved any more, but then those who are don’t have to deal with endless meetings. At lunch time I told Delia I was going out to see Dan at the reserve—I couldn’t have taken one more meeting without saying or doing something stupid, so thought discretion was the better part of valour.

I’d called Dan to say I was coming, so when I got there the kettle was boiling and within minutes we had a cuppa and a chat about old times. He showed me round the building and how it was nearly finished. I was suitably impressed especially with the security, which hopefully meant the equipment we were supplying wouldn’t disappear overnight. Then we went for a walk round the reserve. It was a bit breezy and muddy underfoot, but I had wellies in the car and a pair of binoculars, so with my waxed jacket on, I was prepared for most things.

The bluebells had pretty well gone over but there were enough to show me what I’d missed by not going there earlier. Chiff chaff and great tits called from the trees, and occasionally we heard the staccato drumming of the great spotted woodpecker. A little later we saw one fly past us, it’s undulating flight and red rump meant it could only be one thing. A posse of blue tits followed us for several minutes scolding us as we walked along the gravel paths—not the quietest type of footpath but they do drain quickly and are relatively cheap to lay.

We strolled on talking quietly along paths edged with red campion and white dead nettle behind which were various umbellifers and the stalks of foxgloves upon which flowers had yet to appear.

As we wandered I suddenly stopped him. “Listen,” I hissed.

He did but looked puzzled. “What is it?” he mouthed at me, the purring call still audible.

“A turtle dove.”

“You sure?”

I nodded, these things were so scarce these days it was a real treat to hear one, let alone see one. We did as we traced the song’s source but it wasn’t a good view. I was sure enough that it confirmed my identification and he accepted it.

“Do we have dormice here?”

“I wondered when you’d ask that.”

“I’m glad I met your expectations.”

“You going to juggle some for the grand opening?”

“Ha ha, very funny—not.”

I glanced at my watch, I had barely an hour to get back to collect a car load of school girls, so we hurried back to the centre and I thanked him for showing me around. He told me he’d enjoyed it and glad to see I was still a field scientist first and foremost. I told him he needed to get out more, which given the environment surrounding the centre, I’d have been doing regularly.

A local charity had been making bird boxes for us and also some dormouse ones, plus bat boxes. As you’ll appreciate they’re all different. Bird boxes can vary from something quite large and open for owls to something very small for blue tits. Dormouse boxes are like back to front bird boxes with the hole at the back instead of the front. Bat boxes are different again with a small crack at the bottom for their would-be inhabitants to crawl up—so the back board of the box is roughened to help them gain purchase to craw up and into the box.

The drive back to the school was uneventful although my phone rang while I was driving so I couldn’t hear it. I’d left my bag in the boot when I’d changed out of my wellingtons, not noticing until I went to reach for a hanky only to find my bag wasn’t where it shouldawas on the seat beside me.

The call had been from Danielle to ask if Cindy could come to tea and do some sewing afterwards—it transpired she was behind with her sewing and needed some extra marks to pass the end of term exam. I agreed without thinking beyond the logistics of seeing each other. Cindy came home with us, so I couldn’t say anything except try to be gracious despite my tiredness.

After a delicious dinner which I was so glad I didn’t have to cook, the girls had done their homework beforehand, we settled down to do some sewing. Cindy was supposedly doing a cross stitch picture of hare. I wasn’t sure what she’d been doing but cross stitch it wasn’t. It took us an hour to undo it and for me to show her how to do it properly. Within a few goes she pretty well had the idea so we left her to it.

Next on the list: Livvie and Meems wanted to make their own dormouse based upon my mutant design, which involved finding the pattern, pinning and cutting out then tacking it together. Usually then I’d machine it, but they wanted to do it by hand—the teacher had told them they needed to do it all by hand to get maximum marks—dunno why, machine sewing is neater and stronger.

Trish wasn’t too fussed about doing any sewing and disappeared only to come back with her original dormouse which after several years of close contact, especially in bed, some occasional attacks by Bramble, and other abuses needed some repairs. So I simply supervised her doing that, ultimately pleased that she wanted to stay with us and repair something I’d made for her years ago and which practically had been loved to death.

I took Cindy home at half past nine after two hours of sewing supervision, which was twice as hard as running an ecology workshop, something I suspect I won’t need to do next year if I stay on as professor, which isn’t certain.

Driving back with Danni having dropped her friend off, I told her about my trip to the nature reserve and Billie’s centre. “I’m sure Billie would be so pleased with it all. It’s nearly finished and next month we’ll have the grand opening and then the visit from your school as our inaugural school visit.

“She is pleased.”

“What d’you mean?”

“She went round with you and Dan and saw all the birds and flowers, she thought it was very nice and especially because you looked so happy and relaxed there—she thinks you work too hard, Mummy.”

“How d’you know?”

“She told us a little while ago when we were doing our homework.”

“Did Cindy see her?”

“Not sure. She thought she saw something but we pretended it was just a trick of the light. Trishy certainly saw her because she went off for a few minutes to speak with her.”

I shook my head. It was ironic that I probably wanted to see her more than the others put together but couldn’t do so very often, just fleetingly. At the same time part of me wondered what it was all about because in my world of reality, such things didn’t or couldn’t happen. Dead meant completely and totally so any ideas of afterlives and ghosts were incompatible with what we knew of both physics and biology. I supposed I’d find out one day if I was right or wrong.

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Comments

Very Nce Family Time

littlerocksilver's picture

Yes, Cathy needs a rest. It's not good when your work interferes with your recreation.

Portia

Lucky are they

whose creativity stays with them and serves them in their middle and later years. For most the inspiration comes in their twenties, recognition comes in their thirties, rewards come in their forties, frustrations arrive with the fifties and resignation with the sixties.

Still lovin' it Ang.

x

bev_1.jpg

The important things in life

Rhona McCloud's picture

Sometimes the most healthy thing we can do is get in touch with the supposedly small things that actually make life worth living. Thank you especially for today's post Angharad

Rhona McCloud

The important things in life

Rhona McCloud's picture

Sometimes the most healthy thing we can do is get in touch with the supposedly small things that actually make life worth living. Thank you especially for today's post Angharad

Rhona McCloud

Right or wrong

It seems to me that Cathy will only find out if she is wrong. If she is right, she won't be in a position to find out.
I could be wrong, though!

Love, Bev xx