Guess who's coming to dinner?

When Polly asked whether she and Billi could have a word with Wilson in private, he was certain that they wanted to pick his brain about the Blog — editorial style and so on — but that was not the case…

Once they were alone, Billi explained that they needed to have a quiet word with him about Uncle Zoltan. 

'What, Mad Uncle Zoltan?' Wilson asked, apprehensively.

'We don't call him that any more,' Polly admonished, 'We call him "Differently Abled" Uncle Zortan. Or just Uncle Zortan.'

'Anyway,' Billi continued, 'we invited him to come to stay with us over Xmas, but he didn't reply. Now we've just had this letter saying he's on his way and he'll be here soon.'

Wilson grew visibly tense and asked, 'How soon?'

'Tomorrow morning!' Polly replied.

Today, Paris is Capital of the World!

Aujourd'hui, Paris est capital du monde!

The Meeting Drags On...

Wilson repeated his question and Polly said they would like to blog about Bee First-Aid, Bee Current Affairs, Bee Cooking, Bee Child-Rearing and Bee Decorating Tips. W nodded at each topic, writing it down in his note-book.

Looking back, I can't put my finger on why the meeting took so long, but each point was fiercely debated at great length, and it wasn't long before everyone except the main protagonists had drifted away, leaving just Polly, Billi and Wilson. The sTone Brothers and Diesel remained too, but only because there was no-one to carry them out. 

In the end I was volunteered to type the blog (as neither of the bees is very good with capital letters or punctuation) on the 1st day of each month, subject to Wilson's caveat: 'Unless there's something important happening.'

So, the Bees have until 1st February to think of something interesting to say…

Je Suis Charlie

Family Meeting

Do you remember before Xmas when Wilson and I came back from our Winter Holiday and the bees didn't want to relinquish control of this blog? One of Wilson's Twitter friends suggested that perhaps once a month the bees could guest-blog. 

W considered this for a minute, then announced that he was calling a Family Meeting to discuss it. Accordingly, everyone assembled in the kitchen.

He put the proposition to the meeting, and both bees agreed that would be very satisfactory to them.

Then he asked what they intended blogging about, and while Polly considered her answer Billi shouted, 'We're going to campaign for Rights for Bees! We want Shorter Flowers! And More Honey!' before dissolving into a fit of uncontrollable giggling.

Wilson raised his eyebrows and regarded Billi reprovingly. 

This meeting could go on for some time…

Je Suis Charlie

Intellectual Property Rights

'Look at this!' Wilson said, tossing the offending pack of socks onto the table, 'They're even better than my ODDSIES! — they've knitted the words "Odd Socks" into every sock! I never thought of that!'

Apparently he has already spoken to a No-Win, No-Fee Intellectual Property Solicitor and been advised that the new manufacturer is not actually doing anything wrong, because he isn't calling his odd socks ODDSIES! It seems that you can't patent an idea.

W is a bit discouraged. Melancholy even.

We really need to cheer him up…

Je Suis Charlie 

Black Wednesday

Early this morning Wilson popped into the village in search of post-Xmas bargains. 

A few minutes ago I found he had returned and was sitting morosely in the kitchen, clutching a pack of socks.

'What's up, matey?' I asked him brightly.

In reply he held up the socks saying, in a dejected tone, 'Do you see these? These are odd socks. But they are not ODDSIES!'

Closer examination proved this to be true. Some other unscrupulous and unprincipled (Wilson's words) manufacturer is making and selling odd socks — which are undoubtedly Wilson's invention.

Therapy session

Wilson — whom I found wearing a wide grin and a distant look while waving his torch in time to Eat, Sleep, Rave, Repeat playing on his iPad — told me that when he first arrived with his torch he'd heard someone shout, 'Quiet! It's the Fuzz!' followed by an uneasy silence and some giggling.

Then Polly had emerged from the tumble dryer and explained to him that what was going on was in fact not a party but a trauma treatment she and Billi had developed called Rave Therapy, and asked whether he would let them use his torch for a light show.

'Now' he continued 'I'm helping. And joining in, because… well, it would be rude not to. And I can always catch up on my sleep during the day!'

Rave on

Neither Wilson nor I got much sleep last night due to the party going on in the tumble dryer.

About 2am it got too much for Wilson, who stumbled out of bed half asleep, grabbed his Hippo torch and staggered downstairs mumbling that he was going to 'Sort this out once and for all!' 

When he arrived, everything fell silent. I heard a low conversation that I couldn't quite make out, then the music and partying suddenly got louder than ever!

After 30 minutes W still hadn't returned so I went down to see for myself what was happening. 

The first thing I noticed was a flashing light showing under the kitchen door...

Trauma ward

Wilson had to sleep in my room last night, because his bedroom has been (temporarily, I hope) converted into a Trauma Ward for everyone affected by watching Snow White. 

I have to say, they don't look very traumatised — they're all giggling and playing, and for some reason the sTone Brothers are in there too, and they didn't even see the film!

Polly and Billi are administering big doses of TLC and small doses of Royal Jelly.

I fear that is making everyone even more excitable!

Snow White

By the time Snow White ended the living room looked like a battlefield, with soft toys passed out all over the floor!

Polly and Billi administered small doses of Royal Jelly to everyone for the shock, and Wilson enquired whether anyone would like an ant poultice.

Even W himself was taken by surprise at how scary the film had been, and he's looking for a no-win no-fee lawyer willing to take on the Disney Corporation in a Class Action for "emotional injury". 

If that fails, he says he's willing to sue the British Board of Film Classification for mis-categorising it as suitable for children. 

The youngsters, however, are gradually recovering from the trauma… and I think they're quite enjoying the attention!

Royal Jelly

Wilson suffered an inevitable disappointment yesterday when, once again, his OBE was not ratified in the New Year's Honours List. He's threatening to take the matter up with Watchdog. I do hope he doesn't — scrutiny of this 'honour' could cause no end of problems…

Anyway, everyone finally got to watch Snow White and the Seven Dwarves on tv. 

Everyone except Polly and Billi who preferred to play with their Xmas present, a jar of Royal Jelly Wilson brought back for them from Bath. They dabbed a little behind their ears, rubbed some into their cheeks and complimented each other, interspersed with quite a lot of giggling, on how it made them look weeks younger!

Then they ate a little before putting it away, coming over to the tv and asking Wilson to explain what they'd missed.

Happy New Year!

I took Wilson to celebrate New Year's Eve at one of his favourite venues, The Slug And Lettuce. 

Over our meal I asked him if he'd made any New Year Resolutions for 2015, and he told me that he hadn't quite finished with last year's resolutions yet, and he didn't want to waste them.

We also discussed his goldfish, Diesel, and how he didn't really have any idea what was going on with Xmas or the New Year. As soon as we got home Wilson wrote a backwards New Year message to Diesel on a Post-It, and stuck it to his bowl.

I have no idea whether goldfish can read, but I thought that was a very kind gesture. 

A Walk in the Country...

I know that Wilson had planned to spend New Year's Eve watching Snow White and the Seven Dwarves on tv, eating chocolate and drinking more than is good for him. But having been indoors for several days he's probably getting Cabin Fever, and I recalled his psychiatrist's advice that he should get plenty of fresh air and do more anteater-y activities.

When I suggested a nice walk in the countryside, however, W protested that watching tv in the warm was the most anteater-y activity he could think of!

Promising that he could watch tv later, I insisted on a short, brisk walk. 

He wasn't happy, but I'm sure it did him good. Probably.

Preparing for New Year...

I'm not much of a fan of the lacuna between Xmas and New Year — a melancholy ennui descends which everyone seems powerless fill other than with an excess of eating, drinking and listless tv-watching.

I must ask Wilson to organise some jolly diversions for New Year's Eve to fill the time while we wait for Clive James to smirkingly remind us what a shoddy year we've just lived through. 

Still, there's always Andy Williams and his White Heather Club Hogmanay Party to look forward to…

Severe Weather Warning

The Met Office has apparently issued a Severe Weather Warning for high winds which may cause falling trees. 

At breakfast Wilson informed me that he had inspected the damage we had sustained and has declared a State Of Emergency, confining everyone to the house.

I suspect this is a ruse to stay indoors all day drinking hot chocolate with a shot, eating Xmas cake and watching movies. I know that W is desperate to see Inception, but having seen the mental anguish the Xmas Dr Who caused him I am putting my foot down, even though I'd like to watch it again.

Parents sometimes have to make sacrifices…

Xmas is fading into memory...

Wilson has spent most of his time since Xmas eating, drinking, dozing and playing with everyone's toys. 

I, for my part, have spent most of my time eating, drinking, dozing and not having to settle arguments!

Today has been no different, and things are very peaceful here. Tranquil, even.

I hope it lasts…

Happy Xmas Everyone!

Well at last it's Xmas Eve! We're as ready for Xmas as we're ever going to be, although I've just got a little bit more wrapping to do.

Wilson is wandering round listlessly, waiting for the time to pass until Father Xmas calls with his presents. I don't imagine he'll get much sleep tonight, for which reason I surmise I shan't get much either!

Over Xmas I'll be taking a couple of days off from the Blog, so don't expect to hear from me for a little while — although W might stay in touch on Twitter*. 

In the meantime, Wilson, Polly and Billi, Johnson & Johnson, Antony and Tiny Toy, the sTone Brothers, Diesel the Goldfish and I all wish you 

A VERY HAPPY XMAS!

* @WVermilingua 

Wassail Wassail!

When we arrived home from Bath there was a lot of mail waiting for us — a dozen or so identical Xmas cards from Wilson's Mum Mrs Vermilingua and her still-growing family (including one from Kenneth Byron Eustace Vermilingua, W's young stepbrother who came to stay with us last year) and a specially welcome card from Colin the Knitted Camel and his new family!

W opened and read them all and stood them on the mantel-shelf before running out to the 'Museum' for his little pull-along wagon. He loaded everyone (everyone except Diesel the Goldfish, who was left behind for reasons of 'Health & Safety') onto the cart and towed them off to go Carol Singing.

This year's Carol Singing Innovation is that his choir is accompanied by kazoo and spoons — Wilson is confident that this will boost his earnings no end.

I'm reserving my judgement on that…

Glühwein overdose...

This evening, determined to wring every last drop of hedonistic pleasure from this brief holiday, Wilson suffered a Glühwein overdose and had to have a brief rest on the pavement while I plied him with black coffee. 

Whatever happens we must leave for home first thing tomorrow morning, or he won't have time to fit in one of his 'essential' Xmas traditions…

The Many Faces of Bath

Wilson said that the Roman Baths were very interesting, but refused to venture out of the indoor areas, saying he could see very nicely from where he was, thank you. I think he was nervous that he might be jostled by the crowds and fall into the dreaded water. 'That water is thousands of years old, New Dad!' he observed with a shudder.

On our way to the Xmas Markets he saw a busker with a didgeridoo, and for some unaccountable reason he thought this would be the ideal instrument for Carol Singing. He insisted on trying one out at one of the stalls. It was more difficult than he expected. 

After a general look round the market he stopped at a Gin and Whisky Stall where they let him sample drinks with names like "Sheep Dip" and "Pig's Nose."

After quite a lot of sampling he said he'd just settle for 'A litre bottle of Xmas Ant Gin, please!' but was met with blank stares. 

He explained that it was a traditional Xmas delicacy where he came from, but the stall-holders just shook their heads impassively…

Bristol Christmas Market

After the SS Great Britain Wilson was anxious to see IKB's famous Clifton Suspension Bridge then, as night began to fall, Bristol Xmas Markets. 

Here he bought some souvenir German Xmas Market Gingerbread for everyone back at home.