Mary Dunwich writes: It snowed yesterday. What was that about? It's not supposed to snow in England in November. It must be global warming. Maybe the Gulf Stream has changed course and is plunging Britain into another ice age.
I was cleaning out the dodo and worrying about the weather when my son shambled out to join me. He looked excited and unusually focussed for a Sunday morning.
"We're going to Oxford next Saturday!" He announced. "Harry is taking part in a research study at the University. Dad's going to drive him there. We're all having a day out in Oxford." "Ah, good!" I answered, emptying my bucket of dodo poo onto the compost heap. It makes a fantastic activator, I'm thinking about selling it on eBay. "I want to go back to that fantastic bookshop that's bigger on the inside than the outside". I'm a big fan of Blackwells' bookshop. They order Tolkien books in German for me without getting flustered or telling me I should get out more.
"Erm....I don't think there'll be room for you as well," answered James, thoughtfully poking at a worm with my compost-poking stick. "Why not? Who's going?" I asked, as I started to spread the straw around the floor of Dodgson's coop. Why is it, when the kids get a pet, it's always Mum who ends up cleaning it out? "Erm....Dad offered to take us to the Oxford Natural History museum with Dodgson," said James. "Dad thinks a real, live dodo is too important to keep to ourselves. He says we should share him with the wider scientific community." Hmm. I suspect the Werewolf's just got tired of buying bales of straw and economy-size packs of pigeon food. Either that or he's got the wind up about the Endangered Species legislation and doesn't want to risk going to gaol for keeping a proverbially endangered wild animal as a pet. Chicken!
"You can't trust that lot at the Natural History museum!" I objected. "They had a dodo once and look what they did with it! The last known stuffed dodo in history, and those philistines chucked it on the fire just because it looked a bit manky. I wouldn't let them near our little Dodgson." (I've cleaned him out seven times now, I consider I have a part share in him). "It's got to be done, Mum!" answered James calmly. I hate it when he gets reasonable at me. "We don't know how to care of Dodgson, if he gets sick the vet's bills could be dreadful. Besides, I want to take a picture of the looks on their faces when they see him!" "Mmmm....." I conceded the point as I refilled Dodgson's food bowl. Still, I wasn't going to give up on a shopping trip without a fight. "So, that's Dad, you, Harry, me and Minnie. We should all fit in the car. Dodgson can go in a dodo box in the boot." "Stanley and Jay want to come too!" replied James. "It's their school project too! We want to go to the science museum and take pictures of ourselves next to Einstein's blackboard. Albert says he wants to see it again. He has a feeling he made a mistake in the equations and he won't rest easy till he's checked them again." Great. I have to forego a much-needed outing just because the greatest scientist since Newton is worried he's got his sums wrong. If he has, no-one's noticed it in the last half a century. I really feel that now Albert is.....retired, he should be putting his feet up and not still worrying about his work. You won't catch me tutoring students and cleaning out family pets once I'm dead.
