HARD TIMES

'So what are you doing here?' Wilson enquired, 'It must be 200 miles from Weston-Super-Market, and Uckfield's more than 20 miles from the sea!'

'Ah, well there's the thing,' Andrew replied, 'Times are hard for a Professional Fish & Chip* Thief in lockdown – there just aren't any holidaymakers – so I've travelled up here for the Uckfield Sewage Farm. I hear there's rich pickings on sewage farms – that the Settling Tanks are paved with gold…'

 

Wilson and Byron were both appalled at the thought of eating sewage, although Nërp said he thought sewage might be full of protein – as long as you didn't mind the taste… or the look… or the smell…

 

Wilson told Andrew he was very sorry to find him in such straitened circumstances, but that all he could offer him was a packet of Arnold's Park Termites and all the crab apples he could eat – living in a vegetarian household he just didn't have much to interest a seagull.

 

Andrew thanked him for at least trying to help and flew away.

 

Wilson called after him, 'There are a couple of Chip* Shops in the High Street – you could check out their bins!'

—

* French Fries

AN OLD FRIEND

Wilson, Byron and Nërp have gone out to have a heart-to-heart talk – or in Nërp's case, CPU-to-heart talk – because they're all worried about what people are calling 'The New Normal'.

Wilson is concerned that all the hotels will go out of business and he will never have another proper holiday.

 

Byron is worried about art galleries having to close so his exposure to contemporary art will be limited to looking at it on Sky Arts HD, which apparently just isn't the same.

 

Nërp's principal anxiety revolves around the continued availability of spare parts if he starts to wear out.

 

Wilson had just raised the vexing question of whether Xmas would have to be cancelled if Father Xmas [Santa Claus] caught Covid-19 when a seagull suddenly and unexpectedly landed on Nërp's head.

 

'Wilson!' the gull squawked, 'it IS you, isn't it?'

 

Wilson replied warily, 'Um, do I know you?'

 

'It's me, Andrew, your best friend from Weston Super Mare – don't you recognise your old mate? Your old chum? Your Best Buddy? Your BFF? People used to call us The Two Musketeers!'

 

—

To be continued…

 

 

MEMORIES OF CORNWALL

The disagreements about how the beach hut should be painted must have been settled, because I saw it this morning and it looks fabulous – really seasidey!

While I was admiring it, Wilson strode past carrying his 'stick' – the surfboard he'd bought when we had a holiday in Cornwall a few years ago.

 

I called out to him, 'Going to catch some tubes, Dude?'

 

He turned to me with a very serious expression and asked me, 'Do you remember that holiday we had in Nookey, New Dad? It was wonderful. I loved it. I'm going to try to recapture some of the happiness of that carefree time.'

 

I said I thought that was an excellent idea.

 

Then he asked me a very difficult question, which I didn't really know how to answer: 'We WILL be able to go on holiday again, won't we? Once Lockdown is over?'

 

'Of course we will!' I replied confidently.

 

I hope I was telling the truth, as I too am really missing those lovely holidays, which now seem like impossibly distant memories…

 

 

PAINT JOB

The weather has improved a little, the 'tide' has gone out, the beach hut has dried and the boys are going to make it look a bit more seaside-y by painting it.

They're both agreed that blue-and-white stripes are the seasidy-est colour scheme, but they disagree about how best to achieve it – Byron wants to paint the stripes free-hand (free-paw) while Wilson favours careful measurement, guide-lines and the liberal use of masking tape.

 

At least if they make a lot of mess with the paint we can just rake some sand over the spill.

 

I'm sure they'll reach some kind of agreement without coming to blows, so I'll just let them get on with it.

 

If all else fails, they can decide the matter with a quick ant-eating contest… like they usually do.

 

 

PICK YOUR OWN FRUIT

Our Crab Apple tree has dropped its fruit all over the front garden – it looks very untidy, and the scattered tiny apples keep getting squashed.

I asked Wilson whether he'd mind clearing them up for me and, to my surprise, he said, 'Okey-Dokey – no problemo, ND!'

 

Some time later I found that he had set up a Pick Your Own Crab Apples stall and left Dave and Uncle Zoltan in charge of it.

 

More accurately it should have been described as a Pick UP Your Own Crab Apples, as customers were expected to gather their apples from where they'd fallen on the ground.

 

I think W has failed to notice that nearly every other garden round here also has a Crab Apple tree, which might have cut into his sales somewhat.

 

 

THOUGHT FOR THE DAY

… or for those of you old enough to remember Chinese dictator and despot Mao Zedong, 'The Thoughts of Chairman Wilson'.

 

Wilson, reluctant to keep his self-styled Gems of Wisdom to himself, has decided to share them with you, his loyal friends, in a (probably doomed) attempt to lift your spirits at this worrying and wearisome time.

 

I think I can detect Byron's influence here – without it, I'm pretty certain the thought would have read, 'Choose Rich!'…

 

Don't expect these to arrive very frequently, as most of W's thoughts are money-making schemes which he keeps strictly to himself until he can implement them – when they mysteriously transform into money-losing schemes. 

 

Usually my money!

 

 

FINGERPOST

The boys and Nërp have popped out for a walk in the fresh air – at least, that's what they told me.

 

When they returned it transpired that Byron had wanted to be quite certain there wasn't room to add the words '& Byron' to one of the signposts just outside the village.

 

Pterry accompanied them but was apparently 'pterrified' by the traffic and had to be placed briefly inside Wilson's Brown Paper Bag of Serenity®™ until he calmed down…