23/03/2013

Progress is made...


With the overnight news of a major Asteroid strike (ie very near miss) in the US, Wilson has been driven into a frenzy of activity constructing his asteroid shelter. 
I would have thought the most important part of a shelter was the underground, protective part, but W is starting with the Folly which is to adorn the entrance. 
I have to admit, he's making good progress.


22/03/2013

Some Assembly Required...


Wilson has confided in me that the task he has taken on is a lot more challenging than he had anticipated: 
'The advert said "some assembly required" — I thought that meant I'd need to borrow a screwdriver…' 
We both regarded the massive pile of stone blocks stacked before us… and the completely incomprehensible assembly instructions.


21/03/2013

Wilson's delivery arrives!


Never being one to waste time, Wilson ordered his Garden Folly on-line last night, and took delivery of it this morning. He declined to tell me how much extra overnight delivery cost. 
W intends that the Folly will attractively conceal the entrance to his underground bunker.
Here you see him trying to persuade the driver to unload the folly for him. 


20/03/2013

Wilson's disturbing discovery


Google has a lot to answer for: while researching our Jersey holiday, Wilson has come across some disturbing news — another asteroid is due to strike (ie miss) Earth on Friday April 13th 2029. It's called 99942 Apophis
W has calculated that he will be 21 years old by then, so he doesn't intend to rush into digging a bunker in the garden like last time. Instead, he envisions a large underground structure consisting of several rooms, topped by a stone folly. 
Unlike his previous shelter, he assures me that the new underground asteroid refuge will be large enough to accommodate himself plus Antony and Antony's small toy anteater. 
'And you, New Dad!' he added as an afterthought. Well, that's nice to know.
Right now he's in the garden, surveying. 


19/03/2013

Wilson can swear in Spanish!


Over coffee this morning, Wilson casually asked, 'New Dad, what made you think I could speak French?'
'Well, it probably because you told me you could. When you first came to live here, you were constantly reminding me that, unlike you, I could read Beaudelaire only in English translation.'
'Did I actually say I could speak French?'
I considered for a few moments, and had to concede that he had probably not said so in as many words.
'When I first arrived here, your life seemed impossibly sophisticated,' he said. 'You had a water cooler and a computer, while I was a simple anteater from the country. You made me nervous. I may have inflated my abilities a little. I can't even speak Spanish, the language of my home country, since I was in fact born at the zoo in Sussex, and my mum, Mrs Vermilingua, preferred all her children to speak English.'
I nodded, and he continued, 'I can swear in Spanish, a little. One of my stepfathers taught me!'
'If it ever proves necessary to swear in Spanish, I shall know where to come!' I told him.


18/03/2013

An unexpected reaction


Leafing through the Jersey holiday brochures, I noticed how very near The Channel Islands are to France, so I asked Wilson whether he fancied a day trip to Granville or St Malo. Since, as he has repeatedly pointed out, I don't speak French, I thought he might like to be my official translator.  
W's face fell, and his eyes darted around shiftily. 'I, er, don't think we'll be in Jersey long enough to visit France!' he blurted out. 'There's so much to do in English-speaking Jersey that I don't think we'll need to go further afield…'

17/03/2013

Wilson is injured


Having hurt his nose by wearing an ill-fitting (or 'dangerously ill-designed', as he describes it) Red Nose during Red Nose Day, Wilson has spent the morning soaking his poorly sniffer in a pot of Clarke's Miraculous Salve, a foul-smelling unguent which his mother, Mrs Vermilingua, used to use on all her children's nasal injuries. 
I have my own theory, which is that the cream smells so bad that one's mind will be distracted from the original injury, but I'll be keeping that opinion to myself. 
W looks very sorry for himself, but keeps saying, 'It was all for a worthwhile charity!'