Once I'd pried Wilson away from the steering wheel (I expect it's got a nautical name, but neither of us know it) we went underneath the ship to examine the propeller, then below decks to have a look at the engines.
While we gazed, mesmerised, at the stately steel wheels slowly turning I asked W whether he'd written his Xmas List yet, and he said it was written and safely posted to Father Xmas.
I subtly questioned him about what he'd asked for, but he said that was a private matter between him and Father Xmas.
That will make buying Xmas presents for him tough — it's never easy buying gifts for an anteater who already has access to your VISA card…
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