MEA CULPA

Wilson related his disappointing experience when he'd failed to officially open the High Street. Everyone was very solicitous, especially the Bees.

Once he had been sufficiently reassured and cheered up he took Dave, his guard-piglet, out into the garden to show him the Tomato Farm and explain his guarding duties to him. A moment later I heard an anguished cry: 'Aaaaaaagh!'
 
Both Bees looked nervously at each other. 

Wilson staggered into the room, supporting himself with the door frame, and proclaimed, 'My Tomato Farm is no more. It is... dead! Expired! Departed! It is an EX Tomato Farm!'

The Bees looked guilty and nudged each other for a moment, and eventually Billi said, 'We're very sorry — VERY sorry, actually — but that is our fault. We forgot to water it.'

Polly explained, 'We were so busy with our Party in the Lavender that we completely forgot!'

Billy added, 'I'm not going to lie, we were drunk. WELL blootered. We'd had a LOT of mead. But we ARE sorry. Contrite. Remorseful. Compunctious. Asham...'

Wilson cut her off. 'Well, accidents will happen — and alcohol was involved, which explains much.'

The Bees hung their heads.

Wilson continued, 'Of course, I shall have to change my plans for the Pick-Your-Own-Tomatoes event. But on the other hand... is there any mead left?'

The Bees ran off to the kitchen and I heard liquid being poured.

W flopped into an armchair, sighed and held out his paw as the Bees returned with a pint glass filled to the brim with honey-coloured hooch.

Dave entered the room and asked plaintively whether, now that his job had effectively disappeared, this meant he'd have to go back to the shop...