Preparing for a Big Day...

Wilson has written a very stiff letter to the Editor at the Uckfield Examiner, outlining the facts, demanding that a full retraction and an apology be printed in the paper, and threatening him with the PCC and the Leveson Inquiry on Media Ethics.

He then asked me what I was planning for tomorrow. I said that I'd thought about a relaxed day drinking coffee and watching old movies. 'No, no, no!' he replied, 'tomorrow is National Ant Day - we must celebrate it in the traditional way with an Ant Search!' 

W had assumed that I'd known about Ant Day - in Costa Rica it's apparently like Easter but with ants instead of eggs, and celebrated on the first Sunday in March. All the young anteaters go out into the countryside looking for the First Ant of Spring. The first anteater to find an ant is crowned Ant King or Queen and the ant is paraded round the town in a jam jar… before being eaten by the Ant King. Or Queen. 'Everyone knows that!' W said, scathingly.  

Unfair Accusations in the Press...

In today's Uckfield Examiner Wilson has now been accused of stealing sheep! This is blatantly untrue, as he has returned it anyway, telling me that they were 'emotionally incompatible', 'Which makes me only a Sheep Borrower' he explained.
W seems disappointed but otherwise unconcerned about the accusations levelled against him in the paper. 'Most of my ancestors were sheep-rustlers anyway', he says. 'How do you think Great Great […] Grandfather, Alberto Victor Gutiérrez-López got to be a millionaire?' 
When I reminded him of the saying All Publicity is Good Publicity, and a couple of Oscar Wilde quotes he perked up quite a bit. Notwithstanding, he vowed to extract a printed apology from the Uckfield Examiner!


I must say I'm quite curious as to how Wilson and the sheep could be 'emotionally incompatible'. W is tight-lipped… but I'll get it out of him sooner or later.

Bad Press...

Driving his sheep home from Hempstead Meadow, Wilson saw this newspaper hoarding outside the newsagents. He immediately tied his sheep up outside the shop and went in to buy a copy. (He was a little surprised to be charged for the paper, what with having the Freedom of Uckfield etc, but paid up (almost) without argument.)

The paper carried a leader revealing that some of its readers are disappointed ('outraged' is the word they used) by the Mayor honouring Wilson. They have written angry letters pointing out that they contracted food poisoning after W's Haunted Mystery Tour, or had unfulfilled contracts for gardening work and landscaping projects.

W is a little bit brought down, and says he probably won't send cuttings of this to his mum, Mrs Vermilingua.

Possible new vocation?

Wilson, as is his right, has been grazing his sheep on Uckfield's Hempstead Meadow alongside the railway line. I was quite relieved to find it was just a single sheep, but when I questioned him about where he had got it from, he told me not to worry as he had 'just borrowed it from a sheep farmer'. I wonder whether the farmer knows that he's lent Wilson a sheep.

I tried explaining to Wilson that just because he could do a thing didn't mean he had to do it, but he riposted that sheep herding and grazing might be his new vocation. 'It just depends how I get on with the sheep.'

Wilson exercises his citizenship rights...

The police have just phoned me to let me know they've received a report that Wilson is driving sheep across Uckfield Bridge. They are concerned that his sheep might constitute a traffic hazard, while I am more worried about where on earth he has got hold of the sheep!

Sheep may safely graze...

Wilson finally finally got round to asking me, 'What does having the "freedom of the town" actually mean?' I confessed that I didn't really know, so we Googled the term and found out. 

Basically, Wilson can come and go in Uckfield 'without let or hinderance'. Also, he can drive his sheep across Uckfield Bridge and let them graze in the meadow opposite. 'So I don't get any free stuff?' he asked, despondently. 

He sniffed and reflected that a cash prize really would have been more useful, but I cheered him up by pointing out what a unique honour it is, and how proud his family will be.

Lentus in Totus Res

Wilson finally emerged from his nest and triumphantly showed me this daguerrotype of his Great Great […] Grandfather, Alberto Victor Gutiérrez-López, a famous anteater, citizen and millionaire in his home country of Costa Rica. In the photograph he is wearing a very fine top hat and carrying a silver-handled cane which, W explained proudly, is engraved with his family's motto, "lentus in totus res".

Not having had a classical education, I asked W what this means, and he told me it translates as something like, "Take it easy, you're part of the mighty Sloth dynasty". 

The purpose of showing me this, it emerged, is that Wilson thinks he is now an anteater of some substance and standing and would like a daguerrotype of himself wearing a topper and carrying a cane so his mum, Mrs Vermilingua, could have it framed and stand it on the mantlepiece in her parlour. 

(Since our visit the the Mayor's Parlour, W refers to our living room now as The Parlour.)