First thing this morning Wilson received a special Express Delivery from Amazon.
It contained some balloons, a big drum of red ribbon and a pair of giant 'ceremonial scissors.'
After coffee we loaded them into the car and drove into the village, where the High Street was due to be re-opened after months of roadworks. It took us a little while to park, as today is also Uckfield Carnival Day so the village was extra busy.
We arrived a few minutes before noon, and Wilson carried all his stuff over to the corner at the bottom of the High Street. When he looked around, his face fell.
'The road's already open!' he exclaimed, 'And I haven't DECLARED it open yet!'
Cars were speeding up and down the High Street, so there was little chance of stretching his red ribbon across it, let alone standing in the middle to cut it!
I asked him, 'Who invited you to open the road?'
'Well, no-one actually INVITED me,' he replied. 'it's just that I am Uckfield's most famous resident, I'm a friend of the ex-mayor, I have the Freedom of Uckfield and I'm a Road Safety Campaigner — I just, well, I just assumed...'
I asked him if he'd like to go on to see the Carnival or visit the Fun Fair, but he said he wasn't really in the mood any more.
We loaded the stuff back into the car and drove home...
I don't know why, but since we returned home The Bees have been quite evasive. I think it's something to do with Wilson.
He hasn't noticed the change in their behaviour yet, however, as first thing this morning he told me he was going into the village to 'stake out the High Street'.
I've only ever heard the expression 'Stakeout' in TV crime dramas, where it means something like 'case the joint for a burglary' so I was concerned W might be considering a life of crime. He allayed my fears, however, by explaining that it is a term used by Surveyors when they're measuring a building site.
When he got to the High Street he started crossing the road in a big, exaggerated stride — almost goose-stepping — and counting his paces aloud.
When he reached the far side he'd record the number of paces on his clip-board, turn round and repeat the process.
As usual, I've no idea what's going on — but I do know I probably won't approve...
Hello, we are The Bees, Polly and Billi, and this is our Guest Blog!
Today we had hoped to show you all the many photos we took at our Party In The Lavender last month (to be fair, they were mostly Selfies) but instead we are the bearers of Bad News.
Very Bad News.
News so bad that we don't know how to break it to Wilson.
It's alright at the moment since he's preoccupied trying to manoeuvre his 'Obelisk' thing in through the gate, but as soon as that's done, he will notice something dear to his heart is not quite as it should be.
On the plus side, once he DOES notice, we won't have to break the news to him... but it's hard not feeling a TINY bit guilty, what with it being slightly* our fault.
Anyway, we've been the bees and we'll see you next month. Until then, BEEEEEEE GOOD!
_____________
*entirely our fault
As soon as we drove into our road I realised that there had been a delivery left on the front drive, meaning I wouldn't be able to park the car there.
I glanced across at Wilson and asked him, 'Any idea what that is? I'm guessing it's yours!'
Climbing out of the car we all inspected it curiously from a safe distance — all except little Antony, who declared in a wavering voice:
'Good News, everyone, I know what this is!'
He approached the box slowly, extended one forepaw and cautiously touched it... then jumped as though he'd received an electric shock.
He stood motionless with his eyes closed for a full minute while everyone waited expectantly, before finally announcing:
'It is as I suspected. It is the Obelisk from 2001 A Space Odyssey. I have now absorbed all the knowledge of the universe, and small plush toys will shortly develop a mission into Deep Space! Deep, Deep Space...'
Wilson snorted and shook his head despairingly, but Antony continued, 'In future, you may address me as Bowman. Dr Bowman.'
This morning we went down to what Wilson is calling, rather dolorously, The Last Breakfast (he was raised a Catholic in Costa Rica, which I suppose explains quite a lot).
While we were all waiting for out breakfasts to be served, W explained some of the difficulties in having a piglet called 'Piglet' — he's principally worried that he might be sued by The Estate of AA Milne and Christopher Robin, and possibly even the Walt Disney Corporation, if he doesn't think of an alternative name soon.
I replied that some of his friends have been sending in suggestions, one of which was Percy.
'Percy Pig?' Wilson raised his eyebrows. 'Bit of a cliché, isn't it?'
I've decided to keep the mooted name of Porky to myself, for everyone's sake, so I continued, 'Another suggestion was Peregrine!'
At this, W puffed out his cheeks and made a sort of 'Poof' sound, while the pig rolled his eyes.
Wilson closed down further discussion by saying, 'Well, I'm sure something suitable and appropriate will occur to me soon...'
Indeed, by the time we'd all finished our breakfasts and we were preparing to leave the table, Wilson called out, 'Come on Antony. Tiny Toy. Dave. It's time to go...'
Not long afterwards we were back in the car, bound for Uckfield once more...
We spent our final evening in Newquay (or Nookey as Wilson still insists on calling it) sitting on a bench on the cliffs opposite our hotel, gazing out thoughtfully towards the horizon as the sun set.
'It's been a good holiday, New Dad,' W observed wistfully, 'and I've had a lovely time. I'm sorry I didn't get to propose to my fiancée — or even meet her, come to that — but I've enjoyed making new surfing friends, and I've got Piglet to guard my tomatoes...'
Traditionally this is the time when W pleads to stay a few more days, but this time, to my surprise, that didn't happen. Instead, he continued:
'I'd love to spend a bit longer in Nookey, but sadly I must return to Uckfield — I have many responsibilities there, and duties to perform.'
Before heading back for a pre-bedtime drink in the bar he asked me to take a photograph of both our shadows on the cliff top park, to help him remember this poignant moment.
As I pressed the shutter he waved his paw in the air and shouted, 'Good Night Nookey — thank you for a lovely holiday!' before we walked slowly, paw-in-hand, back to the bar...
