Unfair Accusations in the Press...

In today's Uckfield Examiner Wilson has now been accused of stealing sheep! This is blatantly untrue, as he has returned it anyway, telling me that they were 'emotionally incompatible', 'Which makes me only a Sheep Borrower' he explained.
W seems disappointed but otherwise unconcerned about the accusations levelled against him in the paper. 'Most of my ancestors were sheep-rustlers anyway', he says. 'How do you think Great Great […] Grandfather, Alberto Victor Gutiérrez-López got to be a millionaire?' 
When I reminded him of the saying All Publicity is Good Publicity, and a couple of Oscar Wilde quotes he perked up quite a bit. Notwithstanding, he vowed to extract a printed apology from the Uckfield Examiner!


I must say I'm quite curious as to how Wilson and the sheep could be 'emotionally incompatible'. W is tight-lipped… but I'll get it out of him sooner or later.

Bad Press...

Driving his sheep home from Hempstead Meadow, Wilson saw this newspaper hoarding outside the newsagents. He immediately tied his sheep up outside the shop and went in to buy a copy. (He was a little surprised to be charged for the paper, what with having the Freedom of Uckfield etc, but paid up (almost) without argument.)

The paper carried a leader revealing that some of its readers are disappointed ('outraged' is the word they used) by the Mayor honouring Wilson. They have written angry letters pointing out that they contracted food poisoning after W's Haunted Mystery Tour, or had unfulfilled contracts for gardening work and landscaping projects.

W is a little bit brought down, and says he probably won't send cuttings of this to his mum, Mrs Vermilingua.

Possible new vocation?

Wilson, as is his right, has been grazing his sheep on Uckfield's Hempstead Meadow alongside the railway line. I was quite relieved to find it was just a single sheep, but when I questioned him about where he had got it from, he told me not to worry as he had 'just borrowed it from a sheep farmer'. I wonder whether the farmer knows that he's lent Wilson a sheep.

I tried explaining to Wilson that just because he could do a thing didn't mean he had to do it, but he riposted that sheep herding and grazing might be his new vocation. 'It just depends how I get on with the sheep.'

Wilson exercises his citizenship rights...

The police have just phoned me to let me know they've received a report that Wilson is driving sheep across Uckfield Bridge. They are concerned that his sheep might constitute a traffic hazard, while I am more worried about where on earth he has got hold of the sheep!

Sheep may safely graze...

Wilson finally finally got round to asking me, 'What does having the "freedom of the town" actually mean?' I confessed that I didn't really know, so we Googled the term and found out. 

Basically, Wilson can come and go in Uckfield 'without let or hinderance'. Also, he can drive his sheep across Uckfield Bridge and let them graze in the meadow opposite. 'So I don't get any free stuff?' he asked, despondently. 

He sniffed and reflected that a cash prize really would have been more useful, but I cheered him up by pointing out what a unique honour it is, and how proud his family will be.

Lentus in Totus Res

Wilson finally emerged from his nest and triumphantly showed me this daguerrotype of his Great Great […] Grandfather, Alberto Victor Gutiérrez-López, a famous anteater, citizen and millionaire in his home country of Costa Rica. In the photograph he is wearing a very fine top hat and carrying a silver-handled cane which, W explained proudly, is engraved with his family's motto, "lentus in totus res".

Not having had a classical education, I asked W what this means, and he told me it translates as something like, "Take it easy, you're part of the mighty Sloth dynasty". 

The purpose of showing me this, it emerged, is that Wilson thinks he is now an anteater of some substance and standing and would like a daguerrotype of himself wearing a topper and carrying a cane so his mum, Mrs Vermilingua, could have it framed and stand it on the mantlepiece in her parlour. 

(Since our visit the the Mayor's Parlour, W refers to our living room now as The Parlour.)

Wilson is searching in his room...

What with having the Freedom of Uckfield and being in the paper, Wilson says his mother, Mrs Vermilingua, will be very proud of him, and he really will write to her 'some time soon' and tell her all about it. 

After reading and re-reading the paper about thirty times, he spent the rest of the afternoon rummaging around in his bedroom looking for something.

Wilson is in the paper! Again!

I heard the Uckfield Examiner being delivered this morning, then Wilson picking it up from the doormat. A moment later he came running in to me with it, shouting, 'New Dad! New Dad! I'm front page news!' 

And indeed, he was… this time, thank goodness, not due to being apprehended by a security guard.

Something blue...

After a few minutes in the mayormobile we found ourselves approaching home. As we turned the corner, we noticed some workmen standing around outside the house, then Wilson saw that something had been fixed to the front wall...

What happens next...

We were whisked off in the mayoral limo to the outskirts of Uckfield and stopped in the middle of nowhere. The chauffeur got out and opened the rear door so the Mayor and we could get out. Wilson whispered to me nervously, 'Is this a gangland hit? Will I ever see my mum, Mrs Vermilingua, again?'

The Mayor led us a little way along the country lane in which we'd parked, then turned Wilson round so he could see the sign at the side of the road. 

I took a photo of W standing proudly in front of the sign, as you can see. Then we all got back into the limo (which W has started calling the Mayormobile) and were driven off again. 

While I'm emailing this, W is telling the Mayor all about his goldfish, Diesel, and the Mayor is nodding and smiling. 

We meet the Mayor! In his parlour!

We've just met the mayor in his parlour! Brilliant! He shook hands with Wilson and congratulated him on his Cultural Mystery Tour of Uckfield and the work he has done to promote Uckfield on the world stage in the fields of catering, philosophy and medicine. 

Wilson thanked him gravely, then told him the anteater joke he'd told me -- but happily without the embarrassing after-effects. The Mayor laughed appreciatively and put his arm round W's shoulders. Then Wilson asked whether there was a cash prize at all? 

What could have been an awkward moment was defused when the Mayor laughed again and told him what he had for Wilson was something money couldn't buy.

We were then ushered by the Mayor into the Mayoral Limousine. The three of us sat together in the back (where I'm emailing this from now) and were driven off…

I'll let you know what happens next as soon as I can.

Wilson plans a book

Wilson has just told me that he's going to write a book of anteater jokes for after-dinner speakers; this is, apparently, a completely untapped market and will make him rich. I asked him if he knows a lot of anteater jokes, he confessed that he only knows two -- and one of them is very rude. Hmmm -- this has the makings of a extremely slim volume.

Still, we're off to the Mayor's Parlour tomorrow, that should give W something else to think about. I think I'll warn W not to tell the Mayor his rude anteater joke. Or his clean one, if he's going to roll around on the floor laughing at it himself, as he did yesterday. 

Wilson tells me a joke

Wow, what a beautiful sunny morning today! In response to the psychiatrist's advice, we've been for a walk in the country. Wilson agreed as soon as I suggested it, which is a bit of a surprise; whenever I suggest doing something he doesn't want to do, like stacking the dish washer, he turns slowly to face me, raises his eyebrows and says, 'Hmmm, that doesn't sound like very anteaterly behaviour!' Today, though, we both put on our wooly hats and our scarves and set off to the woods.

It was lovely out, but very cold, and we were both glad to get back. We sat in front of the fire drinking hot chocolate with whipped cream and toasted ants sprinkles. 

While we were sitting there, Wilson announced that he was going to tell me a joke. After a number of false starts and forgetting of the punchline (it seems that he's not a natural joke-teller, or maybe it was just performance anxiety) he finally asked me: 

"Why don't anteaters get ill?"

Me: "I don't know; why don't anteaters get ill?"

W: "Because they're full of... antybodies!" He could hardly tell me the punchline for laughing - a bit of hot chocolate actually came out of his nose, and he slid out of his chair on to the floor, helpless with laughter. 

He thinks this is the funniest joke in the world, ever. Hours later and he is still giggling quietly to himself, his shoulders shaking as he tries to suppress his mirth.

An invitation for Wilson

Wilson is still brooding over his Valentine's Day card. He hadn't noticed until re-examining it this morning that the envelope was addressed to Boo Vermilingua, his real, birth name. 'This person must be the daughter of someone who knows my mother, Mrs Vermilingua' he mused, 'Or perhaps a childhood friend.'

This puzzle paled into insignificance, however, when he opened today's mail and found a letter from the Mayor of Uckfield inviting him to the Mayor's Parlour in a few days time. Reading through the invitation, he told me, 'It says I can bring a guest or a Significant Other -- I suppose you'd better come with me, New Dad.'

I wouldn't want to miss this for the world…

Care plan

The goldfish care books have arrived and Wilson is working his way through them, taking copious notes and drawing up Shortlists and Action Plans with his coloured pens. 

When he read that goldfish can be fed on ants' eggs he became very excited and pointed out that they could share meals together. I can't see the goldfish getting fat that way!

I noticed that one of W's lists is of films the goldfish is not allowed to watch; so far, just Jaws, The Little Mermaid and Finding Nemo!

Settling in

Wilson hasn't moved away from his fish all day - he watches its every move and frets about whether he's too warm/cold/hungry/bored etc. The poor fish must think he's got a stalker! 

I've ordered him some books about looking after goldfish, which I hope will help.

A new friend for Wilson

Putting the irritation(!) of yesterday's events behind him, Wilson and I headed off to the aquarium shop. W has had time to think about the various fish he saw on his last visit, and it didn't take him long to make up his mind today. 

I think he's very pleased with the purchase of his new friend -- during the drive home he held the bag up to the window so his fish could see where he was going, and I found him talking to it later!

Love hurts ♥

This morning Wilson received a Valentine's Day card. Inside, the message read, "I love you more than ants…" signed from a Secret Admirer and followed by five kisses. To my surprise, he seemed a bit annoyed! 

I think his irritation partly stems from the fact that the image on the front is based on his drawing, and partly because I hadn't told him anything about Valentine's Day. 'This is a massive money-making opportunity, and you didn't tell me about it!' he complained. 

I tried to distract him by quizzing him about who his secret admirer might be. 'Someone with the hacking skills to get into my iPad and steal my copyrighted drawing, I would imagine' he replied testily. 

I explained that if she had used the image only once, to send to him, it would probably fall under the heading of Fair Dealing, but he was not to be mollified. Then I suggested that someone with such hacking skills and disregard for the law must be a little like the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. This gave him something to think about: a girl anteater admirer resembling the heroine of his favourite novel...

All this has put him in a bit of a preoccupied mood, which has quite disrupted our planned visit to the aquarium shop to select his goldfish...

Something fishy...

After the excitement of our trip to the film studios, Wilson is feeling a sense of anticlimax, so we've just been to the aquarium shop to choose his goldfish. 

W had a lot of trouble making up his mind, so we've arranged to go back again tomorrow to make his final decision. 

As well as a big selection of goldfish they had a lot of more exotic fish… but I've put my foot down about an octopus. 

'That's a wrap!'

The last thing we did at the studios was to be taken out to a huge warehouse on the 'back lot' where they keep some of their old scenery. There they showed Wilson a background from MOON with one of the lunar rovers. Then a continuity girl came in and took Wilson's photo standing in front of it and holding a clapper board, and they let him bring the clapper board home as a souvenir of his visit. 

Ever since the trip, Wilson has been running round the house with his clapper board and an old Sony Hi8 camcorder shouting things like, 'Mark it!', 'Silence on the Set!' and 'That's a wrap - well done everybody!'.