I try to cheer Wilson up by suggesting he incorporate 'Doctor Vermilingua's Healing Ant Soup' into his portfolio of medical specialities, perhaps even naming it after his mother, but he is not enthusiastic. He shuffles off disconsolately, telling me he's going to read a magazine. 

Later I took him a cup of tea and a biscuit and discovered he was reading New Scientist: The Existential Issue. It's full of questions like 'How Do I Know that Everyone Else Isn't a Zombie?', 'Am I a Hologram?' and 'How Do I Know I Even Exist?' with answers like 'You Don't', 'You Probably Are', and 'You Can't' respectively.

This is not a good sign.

Existential doubt...

Business is slow at Wilson Vermilingua Industries (medical division) - Bringing Succour to a Suffering Public… and I thought this might be why Wilson was a little reserved and quiet today. However, that proved not to be the case.

He took me to one side and told me that, after watching 'Moon' yesterday he was afraid he might not be 'real' and that his family, even his mum, Mrs Verlilingua, and all his step-brothers and -sisters might be 'implanted memories'. 

I told him he was as real as anyone I know, but it's hard to allay existential doubt…

Last-minute nerves

The posters are up, the magazine with his advert in it has come out, Wilson is now just waiting for the orders to arrive. In the picture you can see him at his office awaiting the postman.
In the evening, after what W calls 'close of business', to help us relax we watched the wonderful British SciFi movie, 'Moon'. I really enjoyed it, and I thought W did too, but he seemed a little withdrawn and thoughtful afterwards, and settled down in bed much earlier than usual. 
Probably he's just nervous about his business launch… he has a lot resting on it!

Hygiene concerns...

I've been feeling much better today… until I went upstairs and found the bath full of dark brown lumpy goop. I went to let it down the drain but Wilson went apoplectic, telling me it's his mother's secret recipe soup, containing some of his best ants. 

I asked him whether he cleaned the bath before he put the soup in it, but he changed the subject and bustled off to do some work on his e-commerce website.

New Dad insults my mum, Mrs Vermilingua!

< Well really! I'm beginning to think New Dad doesn't want to get better. Half way through his fourth bowl of ant soup he stopped and refused to eat any more. Even after he'd thrown up, he wouldn't touch another drop. 

Some of my best ants went into that soup. Also, there's almost a bath-full of it upstairs, and I can't eat all of it myself. I shall have to remind him how my mum, Mrs Vermilingua, calls it "Ant Penicillin". By not eating it he's insulting her recipe and her medical knowledge, so I'm sure he'll change his mind about it eventually.

Anyway. I've booked a full-page advert in next month's SkateBoard magazine - the entire back page. This is the absolute prime spot for an advert. I shall shoulder the burden of promoting my medical empire myself; I have broad shoulders. 

Actually, I don't have any visible shoulders at all, but you know what I mean. >

Wilson surveys his Empire...

Using the refund from his gym membership Wilson has rented office space for what he describes as his Medical Supplies Empire. Here he plans to manufacture, pack, store and generally mastermind sales and advertising of his sticking plasters. 

It's a lovely office… I just wish he'd chosen somewhere a little less premium, a little less… expensive. 

However, W assures me that appearance counts for everything in the Big Pharma industry, and his office is in the 'absolute prime spot'!

Prime Spot

Never having been a person to waste time, Wilson has already bought the poster space outside Boots the Chemist - he points out that this is the absolute prime spot in Uckfield for a medical product. 

I'm a little worried that his strap-line "You never know when you might need one" would be more appropriate for condoms than sticking-plasters… but I'm not mentioning this, lest he bring out a range of novelty condoms. I daren't think what the adverts for them might look like  :-/

Wilson plans 'a big push'

Twelfth Night has been and gone and all the decorations are down. Wilson asked me when it would be Xmas again. 'What?', he gasped, 'I'm expected to wait a whole year until next Xmas? Okay, what's up next?'. He cheered up when I told him about the choc-fest we know as Easter.

W has already designed his promotional material for the Hi Wilson! plasters, and is now planning what he calls "a big marketing push".

Rich and Famous?

Wilson has just finished the pack design for his plasters and is now working on the magazine adverts and posters. 

He's  pretty determined that this idea will be the one to fulfil Resolution #2 and make him Rich and Famous. Maybe this time he'll be right - after all, kids are always grazing their knees, falling out of trees, suffering minor nail-gun injuries, having chain-saw mishaps etc, so there's bound to be a huge market for novelty hand-made sticking plasters… isn't there?

Design stage complete!

Here is Wilson's design for his 'Hi Wilson!' range of sticking plasters. What do you think?

Once he's 'in production' he plans to put a pannier on his micro-scooter and personally deliver supplies of the plasters to local pharmacies, supermarkets etc. This boy is a born entrepreneur!

W gets his own transport!

Wilson has been out riding on his Xmas micro-scooter. 

He's had a couple of scraped knees, and now he's busy designing a 'Hi Wilson!' BandAid - he's always got an eye on Resolution #2!

No guns :-(

After breakfast this morning I came upon Wilson standing morosely in front of the mirror flexing his arms. "Look - my guns are no bigger" he said, "even after all that weight-lifting. I'm going back to the gym. Will you give me a lift?" 

I told him I didn't think he should over-do his exercising, but he said he wasn't going there to exercise - he was going to ask for a refund.

Resolution #1 fulfilled!

Wilson, having slept almost all day yesterday, woke me at the crack of dawn this morning asking for a lift to the gym. 

I drove him there and he bought himself a year's membership; he generously offered to buy a membership for me too, but I declined. He was, after all, using my VISA card.

I waited while he exercised, then we drove home again with W slumped in the passenger seat, exhausted.

As soon as we arrived home, W ate a massive meal of what he described as "energy food" (but looked very much like ants with deep-fried Xmas pudding) then went to sleep, leaving instructions that he should be woken in time for dinner. 

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Wilson insisted on staying up until past midnight to see in the new year, so he is now still sound asleep!

However, all the New Year's Eve proprieties and traditions were properly observed last night - first-footing included a coin, bread, salt, coal and a bottle of ant gin. Auld Lang Syne was sung, tin trays were loudly banged, fireworks were lit etc. 

W's New Year's Resolutions are still posted on the fridge door, waiting to be kept, or broken… we shall have to wait and see.

Resolutions

Wilson has spent a long time this morning scrutinising the New Year's Honours List, to see whether his OBE had been formalised. It hadn't. 

Undismayed, W has drawn up his list of New Year's Resolutions and stuck them to the fridge door. It looks like being a busy year ahead!

Preparing for 2012

Getting ready for New Year's Eve tomorrow, Wilson has baked some delicious-looking gingerbread men. Well, they're more gingerbread-anteaters, really! 

W tells me that as a special concession to me, he has reluctantly prepared them without ants - but that I shouldn't get used to it as in Mexican Astrology 2012 is the Year of the Ant. Allegedly. 

I Googled this, and can't find anything about it other than a YouTube video explaining that, if the world was a fairer place, this would be the Chinese year of the Ant. But it isn't. 

http://tinyurl.com/c2gsga4

Mmmm... they look delicious!

Wilson's inseparable companions

Whatever he does, wherever he goes Wilson refuses to be parted from his plush toy anteater and his dressing gown. Looking at this picture, I wish now that I'd bought him some slippers too.

His toy anteater he has named, ironically, Antony! I don't think the dressing gown has a name… but of course, that could change!

Click image to see larger version!

Aftermath

We spend the days following Xmas watching tv - mostly re-runs of Frasier and the dreadful Jeremy Kyle Show - while eating and drinking too much. 

Wilson has made some special 'Xmas Chocolate-covered Ants' with extra-thick chocolate, and also some Mince-and-Ant Pies. They're not as bad as they sound. Not quite.

Boxing Day and beyond...

Wilson is very snug in his Xmas Dressing Gown  :o) 

He also received a micro-scooter, a cuddly anteater and a Dymo labelling machine, and seemed very pleased with everything.

Click on the photo to see a larger version!

Xmas morning at last :oD

Wilson opening his presents on Xmas morning… more pictures to follow when I'm properly awake  (bit of an ant-wine-hangover problem)