Wilson makes a sacrifice...

Over breakfast Wilson admitted to me that the whole engagement/wedding thing was playing havoc with his Winter Olympics training schedule. 

'The Bees' happiness comes before anything else though,' he said, 'Even my Gold Medal. Anyway, I don't suppose Polly-B will want to do the Double Luge with me once she's married.' 

I asked whether this meant the sTone Brothers could have the handles removed from their heads.

'Hmmmm.' he replied. 'Let's not be hasty…'

12 Bar Blues...

Wilson has written a song for the Bees' Engagement Party. He calls it Wedding Bee Blues, and he's in the garden rehearsing it on his guitar. 

'Woke up this morning

     Climbed out of my bed,

Well, I woke up this morning

     Climbed out of my soft, warm bed,

Then I suddenly remembered:

     My Bees are gettin' wed!'

His claws keep getting stuck in the strings during the chord changes, but he's really coming on well. He's almost mastered the Bob Dylan voice. The Late Years 'helium' version…

Wilson writes some new songs of celebration...

Wilson is out in the Wilson Vermilingua OBE Museum of Old Stuff And A Robot looking for his (my) guitar. He says he's going to write some original songs to sing at Polly-B's and Billi-B's Engagement Party.

Tomorrow he plans to start drawing up the Guest List, researching wedding presents and thinking about the catering.

I predict that ants will feature heavily on the menu.

Planning in the sun...

On another beautiful warm Spring day, everyone gathered in the garden to discuss the wedding. Wilson has done some research on gay bee marriages, and he says he would like the ceremony to be like when Sophie and Sian got married on Coronation Street. But without the pre-wedding row, the tears, the screaming or the jilting parts. Basically just the dresses and the flowers, then.

The bees announced that henceforth Billy-B would like to be known as Billi-B; they thought W should know this in good time in case it was important when the Banns were read. 

Wilson in turn informed them that same-sex bee marriages would be legal in the UK from 13 March 2014 and suggested that this would be a good date for the wedding. 

Both girls thought this was a bit short notice, as there would be loads of planning to do and they hadn't even had the Engagement Party yet.

An Engagement is announced!

Wilson went into the living room to consider his options concerning his now-doomed Honey Farm venture. He was specially upset as he'd seen this as his final chance to become a millionaire before his upcoming 7th birthday and thus fulfil the promise he'd made to his mother, Mrs Vermilingua. 

He was sitting on the sofa deep in thought when the two bees appeared, saying they'd like another word.

W feared more bad news, but they started by saying they were very sorry for any disappointment they may have caused. 

Wilson graciously accepted this, but was caught off-guard when they continued by saying that they would like to get engaged anyway. 

'We've done some research,' they said, 'and we believe some sort of party is customary. We'll leave you to your thoughts now.' 

With which they left. Holding tarsi. 

Wilson receives some bad news...

W nodded and smiled.

'No, you don't understand!' Polly continued. 'If we're both girls, that pretty much means we can't have any baby bees,' she explained, adding 'Only Queens can have babies. It's called haplodiploidism.'

By now Billy-B had arrived, and she nodded in agreement.

'Then I shall buy you a crown!' W responded. 'I shall call you Queen Polly-B, and the doppelgänger, er, Billy, will be called King Billy-B.' He paused for a moment. 'Oh. That won't help, will it?'

Both bees shook their heads. 'Neither of us can be Queens.' said Billy. 'It's just biology.'

The information finally sank in. W closed his laptop in silence.

'Oh,' he said, scratching his head with his claw. 'I shall have to think about this.'

There might be a bit of a problem...

Wilson was busy at the computer designing the label for his Honey Farm business enterprise when Polly-B approached him saying she needed to talk.

W stopped typing and turned to her. She shuffled around a bit, then began. 

'Billy-B and I have been doing some research, just to make certain,' she said, 'but we think there might be a problem with your Honey Farm plan.'

'No, no, everything's going fine!' Wilson assured her. 'Look, I've even designed the label for the jars!'

Polly-B blurted out: 'You might not be able to have a hive of bees. We looked in your Beekeeping for Dummies book and we Googled it too, and we're pretty sure we're both girls.' 

Pancake day!

With so much going on, Shrove Tuesday caught us by surprise this year! Despite that, Wilson bustled around in the kitchen making pancakes before an admiring audience. 

As he cooked he hummed. He sang. He mused about the bees' upcoming happy event… 

And his planned Honey Empire.

A wedding is announced!

Wilson rose early this morning and summoned everyone to the conservatory. In a very serious voice he announced that he had considered the doppelgänger bee situation very carefully overnight, and he had reached a decision. 

'The new bee will be accepted into the family,' he declared. 'I shall call him Billy-B, because that is a good name. He and Polly-B are already good friends, so I hope they will become engaged and later marry.'

Polly-B and the newly-named Billy-B giggled a bit here.

'Then in the fulness of time,' W continued, ' they will do what… erm, well, um…' He blushed deeply, before coughing and continuing,' Well, you know. Birds… Bees… I don't need to… Anyway, they will found a vast colony of bees and make loads of honey which I will market on their behalf. Shortly thereafter I shall become a millionaire!'

Antony and Tiny Toy burst into applause and shouted 'Congratulations! Speech!' The two bees glanced at each other and giggled again. 

Afterwards, Wilson confided to me that arranged marriages are very common in the bee world. 

International Ant Day...

Today, being the first Sunday in March, is International Ant Day, but Wilson's mind wasn't really on the festivities; he was too distracted by his doppelgänger problem.  

Both Polly-B and her interloper companion accompanied him on his ant-hunting expedition, mostly so he could keep an eye on them. They both sat together watching the proceedings with interest, occasionally giggling and nudging each other.

As soon as he'd caught the first ant of 2014 and crowned himself once again Ant King of Uckfield he went inside to consider his options concerning his Extra Insect. 

His Bonus Bee. 

His Additional Apoidea.

His Holocryptic Hyalopterum. 

Doppelganger

Wilson carried the two bees into the kitchen, where they sat on the table like identical twins. 

'One of these,' Wilson announced gravely, 'is a Doppelgänger! That is a very bad omen. I shall telephone Mr Derek Acorah, if I can find his number, and ask him for advice. Then I shall test both bees with my ectoplasm detector to see which is the real Polly-B.'

'You've got an ectoplasm detector?' I asked, incredulously.

In answer he raised a long kebab skewer and made a jabbing motion. Both bees gulped nervously.

I made a suggestion: 'Why don't you just ask both of them which is the real Polly-B, then ask her where the other one came from?'

'That could work too, I suppose,' W replied doubtfully, and raised his eyebrows questioningly towards the two plush insects.

'Well, I'm Polly-B,' answered one, 'and this is my new friend. We met while we were out practicing at the Luge Track!'

A psychic materialisation...

Wilson towed his Luge home from the Luge Track, still despondent about the lack of snow. But when he parked it in the dining room he was astonished to notice two Polly-Bs sitting on it. 

He ran in to me saying that he had concussion following a Luge-related accident and was seeing double, but when I followed him to the dining room I was able to confirm that there were in fact two Polly-Bs. 

I have no explanation for this incomprehensible and frankly baffling manifestation! 

Of all the possible interpretations of this event, Wilson suspects it is a psychic materialisation. Why does this not surprise me?

Awaiting snow...

Today is beautiful: sunny, warm and springlike! 

Wilson has chosen today, the warmest day of the year so far, to go to what he calls 'the Luge track' — a grassy slope at the end of the road — to await snowfall so he can start practicing.

He spent a long time gazing anxiously at the sky waiting for snow, but was disappointed.

When he got home he told me the weather was 'Rubbish!' 

Worryingly, though, he says he has a foolproof backup plan. I so hope it doesn't involve hiring a snow machine on my VISA card.

A miscalculation with the calendar...

I was roused from my bed before dawn this morning by Wilson calling up from the garden: 'Hurry up, New Dad! Quick, or we'll be late!'

Due to some miscalculation, he thought today was International Ant Day, and he was waiting ready with all his equipment to celebrate its rites in the traditional way. 

It's not like him at all — he's usually so organised and efficient — but I expect he was just overexcited. 

International Ant Day is celebrated on the first Sunday in March, as everyone knows!

Doubles Luge

Today Wilson is practicing for the Doubles Luge with Polly-B. If you look carefully, you will see that everyone else is keeping well out of the way!

I can't see any way this doesn't turn out badly...

Bronze Medal for GB!

Wilson was very excited for the Women's Curling Team when they won Bronze following their earlier disappointment! 

However he has more pressing matters on his mind today: writing to Britain's Minister for Space Safety about the danger anteaters face from falling space debris. 

The problem he's having, however, is that there doesn't appear to be a Minister for Space Safety. 

Does anyone have any suggestions to whom he should address this vital missive?

Minister for Space Safety

When he came indoors after his time in the Shelter, Wilson was cold, damp and to be honest he smelled a bit dank and musty. I tried to get him to take a shower but he refused and this morning stood in the kitchen while Polly-B sprayed him all over with Febreze. 

He told me that the Shelter was a lot wetter than last time he used it in mid-summer, and he was thinking of installing a heater. And a pump. 

Also, he said, he'd had enough of these endless near-misses with stuff from space and was going to write a very stiff email to Britain's Minister for Space Safety demanding better defences. It was, he said, 'outrageous that innocent young anteaters should be forced to sit in cold, damp holes in the ground just because the Government can't get its act together space-debris-wise.'

European Space Agency statement

Late yesterday evening Wilson emerged from his Shelter after I assured him that Kosmos 1220 had burned up in the atmosphere. 

Over a cup of hot chocolate, seeking to reassure him, I read him a quote from Heiner Klinkrad, head of the ESA’s Space Debris Office, who said: “In the 56 years of spaceflight, some 15,000 tonnes of man-made space objects have re-entered the atmosphere without causing a single human injury to date.”

'Exactly!' W replied, 'HUMAN injury — no-one cares about we anteaters! It's an outrage!'

Kosmos-1220

When I came down to breakfast yesterday there was no sign of Wilson. Then I noticed a magazine cutting magnetted to the fridge door, together with a Post-It explaining that he was in the Asteroid Shelter. 

He is still there now. 

Meanwhile, plucky Polly-B is trying to calm a very nervous Antony and Tiny Toy, while the sTone Brothers say they don't want to die with door-handles glued on their heads. 

Which is understandable, I suppose. 

Wilson adjusts his runners...

Wishing to make the most of the sunshine, Wilson has decamped to the conservatory to fine-tune his sledge, assisted by his Olympic acolytes Polly-B and the sTone Brothers. Antony and Tiny Toy do not number among them due to their excessive nervousness and general timidity. 

I'm enjoying watching it on TV, but honestly I shall be relieved when the Winter Olympics is over and W can concentrate on less dangerous hare-brained schemes…