Wilson has settled down in the dining room, his trusty Light Sabre (he hasn't tried it yet — couldn't find enough AA batteries) and a cup of tea at his side, script on his lap, learning his lines for his Star Wars Audition. Antony is helping by reading all the other characters' parts.
Occasionally I will hear raised voices as W declaims in a Shakespearean voice, 'You are a member of the Rebel Alliance and a Traitor!' or 'Try not. Do… or do not. There is no try!' or something equally dramatic.
Meanwhile, messages of encouragement continue to trickle in; here's another typical one from his friend Sheila:
'Whoo hoo Wilson! Knock 'em dead in that audition!'
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