Tooth decay

The summer has not been kind to sTony. His crowning glory, his horrific and scary rictus, has become a little discoloured by the weather. 

Wilson has gone into meltdown with concern that his teeth might need to be extracted. I tried to calm him down, suggesting that he brush sTony's teeth with Smokers' Whitening Toothpaste, but W would have none of that. He's phoned the dentist and demanded an emergency appointment. 

School phobia

I've just found Wilson with my SatNav and my 2007 AA Road Atlas of Britain. When I enquired what he was up to, at first he was evasive, but after a little gentle probing he admitted that he was re-programming all my SatNav's Favourite Destinations so the routes would avoid passing any schools; he was afraid that I might suddenly stop the car and bundle him inside!

When I was his age I thought I had "School Phobia", but W's is much worse. I've promised him he will never have to go to school against his will... although honestly I think the trick would be in finding a school that would accept him as a pupil!

School's out...

This morning I sat at the front room window with Wilson and together we watched the local children leaving for school. 

'Look at their happy faces as they set off with their friends to learn stuff!' I enthused.

'That look on their faces is fear,' he replied. 'And the uniforms? This is not going to happen!'

W shuffled off, grabbed the iPad and downloaded Another Brick In The Wall from iTunes.

Now he's hiding in his bed and refusing to come out, in case I try to 'make' him go to school. Like I could 'make' him do anything!

In the words of Alice Cooper, I guess School's Out then.

An unwelcome suggestion from me

I suggested to Wilson that before he thought about going to university he might consider attending school. His face fell. 

'I've seen schools in Byker Grove and Grange Hill on Gold,' he replied, 'And I didn't like the look of them.'

'Science is not in my veins...'

Explaining his decision, Wilson reminded me that the famous myrmecologist William Morton Wheeler had been one of his mother, Mrs Vermilingua's, heroes. 

'He developed the theory that ants aren't individuals but merely part of a superorganism. He gave a famous speech about this at Woods Hole Institute in 1911, and this has been very important to vegetarian anteaters, as it is the basis of our being able to eat ants and be vegetarians at the same time.'

I nodded, encouragingly.

'I thought that I might become the new WM Wheeler and make my mum, Mrs Vermilingua, proud of me… but science is not in my veins. I'm much more interested in cooking and making huge sums of money.'

Wilson decides that university is not for him...

Over coffee this morning I tried to explain to Wilson that Brideshead Revisited and the Lewis stories were just fiction, like the movie Moon which so upset him but which he eventually conceded was not 'real'. 

He held up his paw, interrupting me in mid-flow, to say that he'd re-read the prospectus and the course didn't offer what he'd expected. It was all about studying ants scientifically, sticking microchips on their heads, dyeing their food to study their socialisation and so on, not at all what he wanted to do. 

I asked him what he'd been hoping for from the course, and he replied, 'Obviously ant breeding, ant farming, ant cooking and ant recipe development. Restaurant management and marketing. Stuff like that.'

Wilson has second thoughts

I asked Wilson if he'd like any help filling in his application for the myrmecology course at Imperial College, and he said he was reconsidering going to university altogether. 

He explained that, as part of his research on which university to go to, he'd watched Brideshead Revisited on DVD and was worried that he might not fit in; then he'd watched Lewis and was afraid he'd be murdered by an unhinged tutor.

I suggested he should go straight to the Imperial College website and see what other students said about university life.

Wilson applies to university!

This morning I found Wilson reading a prospectus from Imperial College, London. When we sat down to coffee a little later, he told me that he'd had enough of failed get-rich-quick schemes and he was going to study to become a myrmecologist. 

I told W that I have no idea what that is, and he explained that it is a branch of entomology concerned with the study of ants. 

This sounds like a subject tailor-made for W, although I wonder how good the employment prospects are. Perhaps when he's qualified he could get a job as a CSI - he likes the TV series, and he'd look good in the uniform too.