Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 657 by Angharad

Megan took me through into makeup, where they powdered my nose and tidied up my hair. Then it was through to a studio and a link with London and the main news studio.

I sat there waiting for what seemed like hours, when Megan popped in and said we’d be running in five minutes. A cameraman came in and they did a voice check, then suddenly a red light came on and the news presenter, Sheila somebody or other, started talking on the monitor.

“We’re frequently being told that industrial farming, habitat destruction and global warming are making our animals and birds decline in alarming numbers, so it’s nice to be able to report a positive story.

“On the Isle of Wight, the local nature group is reporting that they have stopped the decline of one species, the common or hazel dormouse. In our Bristol studio is film maker and scientist, Cathy Watts, who made the film shown on BBC the night before last.

“Cathy Watts, is this a general trend, have we halted the decline in dormice?”

“Obviously, on the Isle of Wight, this sounds like the case, but generally, I’d say that we’re still losing habitats, which means we’re losing dormice and other woodland edge species.”

“Could this be the answer, breeding and reintroduction of endangered species?”

“There have been several projects of captive breeding of dormice, one that I’ve been running in Portsmouth, there’s the one on the Isle of Wight, and one in Cheshire, involving Chester zoo. According to my studies, in areas where we’ve reintroduced them, and manage the sites, they do quite well.

“The big problem is the destruction of habitat and loss of traditional forms of woodland management, such as coppicing. Some of these woodlands are quite ancient and are being cleared or used for different purposes, so in changing things they’re obviously affecting the species who live there. The dormouse is protected but most landowners contemplating clear felling a woodland are hardly likely to tell anyone if they have dormice, if in fact they know.” I was on my soap box.

“So would some form of financial inducement help, if landowners were paid to protect habitats?” asked Sheila.

“They could certainly help. The big landowners like County Councils, National Trust and Forestry Commission are generally very good about protecting the sort of habitat dormice need, but they need to know about it first and all too often dormice are not discovered until it’s too late, if they’re seen at all. Which is why the National Mammal Survey is so important, once that is completed we should have a much better idea of the status of a number of rare and endangered mammals.”

“And you’re involved with this national survey?”

“Yes, through Portsmouth University, which is one of the lead universities involved with the Department of the Environment, Natural England, and of course the Mammal Society.”

“Thank you, Cathy Watts, from Portsmouth University.”

“Phew,” I sighed, “I hate doing that sort of interview.”

“You did really well, now we’re going to link up with Southampton in a few minutes for their local news programme. Would you like a drink?”

“Water, please.” Megan brought me a bottle of spring water and I sipped at it, hoping not to spill it all down the front of me before the next interview.

“We’ve got Radio Solent, patching through, can they ask you a few questions about the dormice film?”

“I suppose so, how long have we got before Southampton?”

“Ten or fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, fire away.”

“Hi, Cathy we’re going live now.” He paused and then said, “Hi, it’s Mark Westerbrook on Radio Solent, and in the Bristol Studio I’m talking to Dr Cathy Watts, who made that wonderful film on dormeeces, we all drooled over the other night. Magical film, Cathy.”

“Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Oh come on now, those things are so cute, who could fail to be entranced by them? And as a narrator to the film, you were pretty good too. Is that the first one you’ve done?”

“Yes, and it was absolutely nerve-racking. The two camera men I worked with Des, who sadly died in a car accident before we finished the filming, and Alan who replaced him, were totally brilliant.”

“They certainly were with the photography, but you equally brilliant with the commentary and at times made the film, it was like Snow White and the seven dormice.”

“There were more than seven,” I corrected him, pleased he couldn’t see me blushing, “and they were the stars of the film, not me.”

“Ooh, so modest, I believe you wrote and directed the film as well?”

“Um–I did most of it, but Des and I collaborated on setting up the initial theme.”

“But you were the wildlife expert on the film?”

“I was the dormouse expert, Des and Alan are both experienced and skilful wildlife photographers.”

“But they’re not as beautiful as you, are they?”

“In the eyes of our mothers, we’re all beautiful.” I felt myself sweating.

“Oh very tactful and modest. Tell me, are you planning on making any other films, a little birdie tells me harvest mice could be on the agenda?”

“I don’t know, I have no immediate plans except to look after my two children and organise my marriage.”

“And the lucky man is Simon Cameron, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“A lucky man indeed. Thanks, Cathy, good luck with the wedding.”

“Thank you, Mark.”

I gulped down some water. I could feel the sweat and oil on my face and patted it with a tissue. I didn’t want to go near ‘makeup’ again.

A minute or two later, I spoke with the Southern News programme and three minutes later, it was done, except Radio Two got in on the act, then Radio Four, then finally Five Live.

I left there an hour later with Erin, who was fuming. “Five interviews, and they’re paying for three–I’ll write some snotty letters in the morning.”

“Thanks for coming Erin.”

“Well they kept off the personal stuff, mostly anyway.”

“Yeah, thanks to you setting the boundaries. I was psyched up to say, ‘that’s personal’ but I didn’t need to.”

“Yeah, sometimes they abide by the agreement, but how many times have you heard them pillory a politician over an issue they didn’t agree to talk about. Journalists are opportunists and they’re all bar…”

“Stewards?” I finished.

“I was going to say, bar flies, but I like your idea better.”

“Right thanks again, I’m dashing home to sort out my kids. Talk to you soon.”

“Indeed we will, when I’ve sorted the arrangements for Midweek.”

“Oh shit, I’d forgotten about that.” I got in my car and set off for Portsmouth. It was six in the evening and by the time I got there, they’d be in bed. I felt like shouting my anguish, I’d let them down again.