Two tribes go to war...

I'm afraid yesterday's disagreement has led to a bit of a standoff, and no-one is ready to blink first!

When I came downstairs this morning I found two notes magnetted to the fridge, one from each party. 

The bees seem to have enlisted Uncle Zoltan to help with typing their note (he has greater mastery of capital letters and punctuation, and his own typewriter) and they have put together a cogent list of reasons why they should be allowed to Blog on Sunday. Wilson's note, however, is more of a plaintive, anguished cry from the heart…

While I can see both sides' point of view, I'm keeping well out of this dispute — I just hope it doesn't delay the redecorating.

Scheduling clash

You probably recall me passing on the bees' reminder that you should be sure to have some honey ready for the recipe they're going to share with you in their Guest Blog on Sunday.

Wilson hadn't realised that the first Sunday in March — which is National Ant Day — fell on the 1st of the month — which is the day of the bees' guest blog!

National Ant Day is an important occasion in the calendar of all anteaters, since it's the day in which they head out to see who can catch the First Ant of the Year and be crowned 'Ant King' — an honour which Wilson has held for the last several years.

The bees, however, maintain that the 1st of the month is their Blogging Day and they've been planning it for a long time.

Work begins

Today Wilson started on painting the hall. He's making a nice job of the walls, but he's quite a messy worker…

Later I heard him complaining to Antony that decorating is not only much harder than he'd expected, it also takes a lot longer. I told him to keep his eye on the prize — a lovely holiday in Norfolk!

Before I forget, Billi and Polly have asked me to remind you to have some good quality honey ready for their Guest Blog on Sunday, when they're going to show you how to cook a traditional bee recipe!

A question of colour

Wilson thought he'd be allowed to choose the colour for the hall, but I drew the line at Sun Yellow or Sorrento Blue ('It'll be lovely and bright!') and insisted on Double Date. 

'What? That's not even a real colour!' he complained. 

But I was adamant. 

And I do hold all the cards, holiday-wise!

Compromise

Okay, we all know that there'll be a lot of negotiating and bargaining about where we go for the holiday we can't really afford, then I'll eventually give in because it seems churlish to keep refusing. 

So I have decided to take a proactive stance: I've told Wilson that we will go on holiday. To Norfolk (England). As long as he helps me redecorate the hall first.

I'd expected further haggling, but W accepted my offer immediately and insisted that we go directly to the DIY Warehouse to buy the paint! 

Now I'm left wondering whether I should have driven a harder bargain...

Ideal holiday destination

Wilson has been working his way through the booklets he picked up at the Travel Agent yesterday, drawing up a shortlist of places he'd like to go on holiday.

Over coffee he showed me the list: at the top is millionaires' playground Kamalame Cay, a private island in The Bahamas, and at the bottom, Norfolk. 

I'm pretty sure this is just a bargaining position, like when he asked me for a pet pony when what he really wanted was a goldfish.

Oh. Unless he means Norfolk in Virginia!

Shopping in the village

Today being sunny and a little warmer than of late, Wilson popped in to the village to buy more ingredients for his 'warm snow' invention.

When he returned he had just one tub, explaining cheerfully, 'Talcum powder is way more expensive than I expected — its cost might jeopardise my entire invention!'

I was puzzled why he didn't seem at all upset by this realisation, so I enquired whether he'd done anything else while he was out.

'Well, it's funny you should ask,' he replied, 'but I was right by the Travel Agents and they've got some brilliant deals — it would probably be cheaper to go away on holiday than it would be to stay at home…'

Also, Wilson has just told me that today is World Pangolin Day, so he'll be cooking something a bit special for dinner tonight, by way of celebration!

Designing a poster

One of Wilson's friends, Ms Jan, has suggested a name for his 'warm snow' product: 'No Freeze.' 

W was very taken by this and, never one to let the grass grow under his paws, has already designed a promotional poster for it, re-spelling and branding it NOFREEEZ.

'I've got to get this on the market straight away, New Dad!' he explained excitedly, 'This is a product just waiting to happen, and I don't want someone else pinching my idea — like they did with my Odd Socks invention!'

He's made a very nice job of the poster but, although he's excited, I do wish he wouldn't stand on the furniture.

A brisk walk in the fresh air!

Wilson has a lot on his mind at the moment, what with the games he's developing, his Periodic Table of Ants and his new invention, Warm Snow. Then there's his worries about Uncle Zoltan abducting the children. I hope all this isn't getting on top of him.

Recalling the Animal Psychiatrist's advice about Exercise and appropriate Anteaterly Activities, this morning, before he had time to protest, I took him out for a nice brisk walk in the fresh air.

He didn't enjoy it, moaning all the way about how walking was a waste of time when we have cars, and pointing out that, since real snow is so cold, his Warm Snow (still awaiting a marketing name — suggestions welcomed) would assuredly be an unqualified hit!

A surprising invention

Wilson looked very thoughtful as he vacuumed up all the spilt talcum powder in the living room, and shortly after he'd finished I found him in the kitchen.

'Don't speak, New Dad!' he warned me, 'Don't interrupt my chain of thought! I am inventing… Warm Snow!'

_________

Please feel free to Share and re-post Wilson's Adventures — you'd make an ambitious young anteater very happy!

Letter of complaint

Finally, after literally hours of speculation and excitement, Johnson Major and Johnson Minor tore open their parcel. 

It's difficult to say what happened next, as everything in the room disappeared in a cloud of whiteness! There was much coughing and laughing as the boys played in the snowdrift of what turned out to be talcum powder.

A little later, while the boys still threw the dusty white powder at each other and ran around in the mess, Wilson found a note that had accompanied the pot of talc: it was a letter of complaint addressed to Messrs. Johnson & Johnson, grumbling about the 'inadequate packaging' of their product.

W tossed the missive aside, sighing, 'I suppose I'm going to be the one who has to Hoover all this up...'

Johnson & Johnson

There was much excitement this morning when the postman delivered a parcel addressed to Johnson & Johnson. The Johnson Brothers have never received any mail before, let alone a mysterious package, so they and Polly spent a long time just staring at it excitedly and speculating over its possible contents.

Wilson is beside himself with curiosity, and can barely contain himself — I think if the Johnsons or Polly don't unwrap it soon he might explode!

Stain removal

Today the bees agreed to try to clean up the mess Wilson had made when dying his curtains. 

While W looked on anxiously, they got out the cleaning materials (a top-secret product containing Royal Jelly) and set-to with mop and bucket. The stain has not completely vanished, but it does look quite a lot better than before.

W has promised that he'll ask me before he dyes anything else. 

And read the instructions.

And wear rubber gloves.

Déjà Vu

Exactly the same thing happened today as happened last St Valentine's Day. In fact, the same thing that has happened every St Valentine's Day since Wilson first came to live here: he received a Valentine Card signed from 'A Secret Admirer.' 

When the huge envelope fell onto the doormat he sighed wearily. 

He sighed wearily again as he tore it open. 

He sighed wearily as he opened the enormous card and read the message, 'Happy Valentine's Day from your Secret Admirer!'

The sighing is all because he is convinced it is his Mum, Mrs Vermilingua, sending these cards every year, and he finds it a bit… well, embarrassing. 

Polly and Billy, on the other hand, find it very funny and do rather tease him about it...

Uncle Z's Memoirs

Polly has just returned from the hive, where she has been reading Uncle Zoltan's Memoirs, Chapter 1.

She told us all that Uncle Zoltan was hatched in 1961, which makes him about 54.This is exceptionally old for a bee. So old that he thinks he is due several telegrams from the Queen. 

Whether that would be from HRH HM Queen Elizabeth II or the queen of the hive was not made clear.

Billi remarked that it's only being so bitter that keeps him going...

Redecorating

Yesterday Wilson ordered a 'Mystery Box' of fabric dyes on eBay — I think he was a bit hurt by my describing his new curtains as 'the horriblest things I've ever seen' so he had the dyes sent Express.

Not only did they arrive before breakfast, W has already dyed the curtains a livid magenta colour, and re-hung them!

He asked me if I thought they looked better now. To avoid having to give an honest answer, I asked him what all those magenta streaks running down the kitchen wall were. 

He confessed that in his haste he hadn't read the instructions, and it was possible he hadn't rinsed and dried the curtains quite enough before he re-hung them… but he was sure the bees would have a Top Tip for getting stains off wallpaper.

I hope he's right about that; Billi said she 'hadn't got a Scoobie', and Polly is still in the hive with Uncle Zoltan…

Autobiography

Today Polly popped round to the hive to check on Uncle Zoltan, since no one had seen or heard anything of him for several days.

She found him in his study, typing. He told her that he'd started to type a Post-It Note a couple of days ago and it gradually turned into his autobiography!

He's written nearly thirty pages, and he hasn't even reached the bit where he hatched yet! This looks set to be a very detailed autobiography…

Prying eyes...

Over breakfast Polly mentioned that she hadn't heard from Uncle Zoltan for several days, and she would pop over later to check that he was alright.

Wilson has hung some new curtains in the kitchen — not at the window but in front of the notice board. He says that his invention must at all costs be shielded from prying eyes, and he'd seen curtains used like this in a war film on tv.

The curtains are possibly the horriblest things I've ever seen…

Periodic Table

Today Wilson revealed his 'Scientific and Taxonomic Breakthrough' — it is a "Periodic Table of Ants." Allegedly.

W pinned it up on his noticeboard in the kitchen so it was easier to work on, but impressed on me the need for total secrecy. 

'Dr Rosalind Franklin invented DNA, but those rascals Watson and Crick pinched it from her and won half a Nobel Prize each!' he explained. 'I don't want anyone nicking or sharing my Nobel Prize!'

A little later he told me that he was being extra careful not to go outside the lines with his colouring-in, as he was young enough to compete for the Turner Prize too, and was feeling 'Well confident'…

Open University

Yesterday's Snow Day involved a lot less hardship than the term usually implies — everyone sat round in the living room playing pANTS!, watching Daytime TV, eating and drinking. In Wilson's case, specially drinking.

Several of W's friends have pointed out that he is actually too young to buy (and consume) wines and spirits. I mentioned this to him and he told me not to worry about it because he has a fake ID. He also said that his Mum, Mrs Vermilingua, has always been a great gin enthusiast, and he'd been drinking it since he was a tiny pup.

'Anyway,' he added, 'Checkout operators are rubbish at estimating the age of anteaters — I just say grown-up things when I'm near them!'

After dozing off in front of an Open University broadcast, W told me that he's had a BRILLIANT idea. I'm afraid my heart always sinks a little when I hear this, because I know it will cause trouble. 

Anyway, it's keeping him quiet today: he's cut off a length of my Colorama background paper and he's ruling it up into squares, to what end I know not…