Bowling Tournament

We hired a lane and I showed Wilson the rudiments of how to bowl and how the game was scored. He practiced a bit, then we started on our Best-of-Three-Games challenge.

In the first game W Guttered most of his balls, and he lost dismally, but in the second he suddenly found his stride and narrowly beat me. In the third, and deciding, game I got the feeling that he was letting me win… until the last minute, when he vanquished me again.

He immediately suggested we play Best-of-Five, so I could get my own back — which I failed to do — and by the time he'd beaten me in Best-of-Seven we were both too exhausted and hungry to play on.

As we left, Wilson shook my hand and said, 'Thank you for the game, New Dad! You've been a tolerably worthy opponent... for your age.'

The important thing, though, was that we'd both enjoyed the final evening of our holiday.

10 Pin Bowling

My ace card suggestion for our last night on holiday was: Ten Pin Bowling! 

Wilson was gratifyingly enthusiastic about this idea and immediately challenged me to a Best-of-Three tournament, which I accepted. 

W said that he was hot and his sugar levels were low and before embarking on this important contest he needed a boost. 

He ran off to a Slushy stand and asked for an Ant Slushy. He was very surprised to learn from the lady who worked there that they didn't have any Ant flavour Slushies, and indeed that she thought they sounded 'Horrid!'

In compensation for this egregious omission he blagged a lot of extra drinks decorations, and as he walked away tipped some dried ants into the lurid mixture, stirring them in with a plastic flamingo swizzle stick.

Amusement Arcade

Once we were back on the pier, Wilson had me hold all his souvenir purchases while he played on the Penny Pushers and other amusement machines.

Being a very canny player, it took him a surprisingly long time to lose all his money. 

Which, by the way, is quite boring to watch.

However, when his loose change had finally all disappeared, I played my ace card…

Trade Secret

Once we arrived back in Great Yarmouth Wilson stocked up on sweets and souvenir sticks of Rock with 'Great Yarmouth' written all through them. 

At the back of the shop you could see the rock being made by a team of women and a dangerous-looking machine, and W whispered to me that he could actually see how the writing was being put in! 

'We mustn't tell anyone about this, New Dad!' he told me earnestly, 'This is obviously a Trade Secret to which we have inadvertently become privy — if it becomes generally known in the confectionary industry it could spell the end of the Seaside Rock business altogether!'

Exit through the Gift Shop…

As I anticipated, Wilson had a great time at the Radar Museum, helping out the WAAFs at the WW2 Plotting Tables, then taking a turn at one of the terminals in the main Operations Room. 

Although the entire place has been decommissioned all the radar screens are still working, so I did make him promise not to touch any of the buttons, just in case...

When we finally left the Museum, through the Gift Shop, Wilson chose a model Stealth Fighter which I bought for him, because he hasn't had any other birthday presents yet — they're all waiting for him back in Uckfield.

Right now, though, we're heading back to Great Yarmouth for a final visit to the Pier...

Happy Birthday!

Wilson's Birthday Surprise is a visit to the East Anglia Radar Museum — a radar station established at the start of World War Two but still active during the so-called 'Cold War' of the 1950s onwards until it was decommissioned in 1993 and then converted into a museum.

I've been here before, and I know W will love it!

It's much larger than it looks, and we could probably spend most of the day here, but I want to take W back to Great Yarmouth this afternoon.

Meanwhile, please remember that Wilson's Mum, Mrs Vermilingua, mustn't know anything about W's birthday — so, not a word to Mrs V!

Mr Bob

After dinner we retired to the Bar, and who should we meet there but Wilson's friend Mr Bob! Over a few drinks (a few too many, in W's case!), Wilson finally let slip what he's been up to while locked away in his Museum… although he swore us both to secrecy. All I can tell you is that it sounds very exciting… if a tad unlikely!

Tomorrow is Wilson's Birthday — although that has to remain our secret, so please don't mention it to anyone. It's vital that his Mum, Mrs Vermilingua, doesn't find out, or she may calculate his true age, and that, as he explained to me, 'Would be calamitous! All would be undone!'

This will be his first birthday away from home, so I've got a surprise planned for him which I hope he'll enjoy…

Wax Museum

Making our way back to the car, Wilson was disappointed to see that the House Of Wax in 'Tat Street' had closed down — indeed there appeared to be workmen inside stripping it out. 

I have to say I'm not much surprised. Great Yarmouth used to boast two Wax Museums, but now they're both gone. I'd visited each of them, and neither was up to much. They looked more like motley collections of badly-stored 1950s shop window mannequins in unlikely outfits, and the only way of telling who the waxworks were supposed to be was by reading their labels. The answer was often a huge surprise!

He soon cheered up when I told him we'd be going to another museum the following day, which I thought he'd like as much as the Transport Museum, and we drove back to the hotel for dinner.

Portrait Photography

After what Wilson thought was hours (but was in fact no more than a couple of minutes) his portrait popped out of the Photo-Me machine delivery chute. 

He snatched it up and regarded it critically for a moment, before announcing that it was the best photo ever taken of him, and asked me why I couldn't take lovely pictures like that?

'If you ask me, New Dad,' he said, 'people like Annie Liebovitz, Richard Avedon, Irving Penn, even Norman Parkinson and Cecil Beaton — they could all learn something from this machine!'

I hope he doesn't write to the British Journal of Photography…

Photo-Me

My photograph of Wilson actually riding on his donkey will apparently not suffice as a souvenir and he wants another picture to commemorate this remarkable day. 

Soon he spotted a Photo-Me booth, dashed inside and drew the curtain while he practiced his smile, smoothed down his fur and so on. Then his paw emerged and he asked for £5 to operate the machine.

Moments later we waited excitedly outside the booth for Wilson's Souvenir Portrait to emerge…

How to Ride a Donkey

Once Wilson's donkey ride was over we retired to a sea-front café where, over an ice-cream sundae, he told me all about his ride and explained in some detail the finer points of donkey riding.

To cut a long story short, this seems to boil down pretty much to holding on very tight and not falling off, but far be it from me to belittle his experience — he's still really pumped from his adventure. 

After he'd finished his elucidation (and his sundae) we set off for a stroll along the prom in search of further thrills. 

Wilson frowned for a moment then asked me why they're called 'sundaes' — I had to confess that I had not the faintest idea…

Donkey Ride!

I am very proud of the way Wilson waited for his donkey ride, but now the big moment has finally arrived!

He spoke quietly to all the donkeys before deciding on one called Micky. The donkey-ride lady helped him into the saddle and he set off in a little group with other children.

When he returned he was helped down and thanked Micky before running back to tell me all about his adventure. It appears that donkey riding is much more difficult than it looks because the donkeys sway about a lot, but the little girl on the next donkey advised W to hold on to the handle on the front of the saddle, and not falling off was a bit easier then.

He also said he was pretty sure the girl on the next donkey fancied him, and I have to admit that in the photo she is giving him quite an admiring look.

Who knows -- perhaps a Holiday Romance is in the offing… although W's Fortune Teller didn't mention anything of the sort.

To the beach!

Wilson had me up early this morning, full of excitement about his upcoming Donkey Ride on the beach.

When I say 'early' I mean that we had to wait for the the hotel kitchens to open before we could even have breakfast!

Once we had arrived in Great Yarmouth and parked the car we took what has become known between us as 'Tat Street'* almost at a run until we reached the Promenade… when we hit a bit of a problem.

Clearly painted on the pavement were the words 'NO DOGS ON BEACH'. Although Wilson is unquestionably not even remotely related to Canis lupus familiaris, witless jobsworths have occasionally sought to eject him from premises where he is fully entitled to be. For this reason I have Registered W as an official Companion Animal. 

I confirmed to him that I had the certificate with me, and thus reassured we made our way down to the sand for his donkey ride…

________

* "Tat Street" because all the shops in the street sell cheap 'Tat' or tawdry souvenirs. Which is not to say that Wilson doesn't enjoy a tawdry souvenir — he spends hours trawling through that stuff!

Hotel life

Wilson is still a bit miffed that, due to the Bees' Guest Blog yesterday, he was unable to tell you about the v. tasty dinner he had in the Hotel Restaurant. 

I think he's beginning to regret his generous offer to let them Blog once a month — although now they're building up a regular readership I'm sure they won't relinquish their Blogging Rights without a fight!

We've retired to the bar now, and W is catching up on his email. He's particularly chuffed that one of his Twitter friends has Tweeted: "You're the 'Number One' anteater on Twitter, for sure!"

Also, I've promised him that we'll go back to the pier tomorrow so he can have his Donkey Ride on the sand.

The Facts of Life

Bees' Guest Blog: The Facts of Life

We know that many of you are very curious about what is sometimes called 'The Facts of Life' and today we were going to tell you all about those facts. 

However, bearing in mind what happened when we told Wilson about them a few months ago, we've asked Uncle Zoltan to draw up a Waiver or a Disclaimer or something for you to sign and send back to us if you accept the risks of learning about the Birds and the Bees. 

Once we've received all your Waivers or whatever they are we will tell you all the Facts Of Life next month when we Guest Blog again. If we don't get enough of them back we'll tell you about some more Bee Recipes and Housekeeping Tips instead.

See you next month,

Polly- and Billi-B

XX

The Last Tram

The day is drawing to a close and I'm ready for dinner, but Wilson has pleaded for one last tram ride. 

This tram has comfy upholstered seats, and W is intrigued by the way the backs of them flip so passengers can face forward whichever way the tram is driving. He told me he might try adapting the front passenger seat in our car for when I'm reversing.

As we disembarked he had a final go at pretending to drive, even though he could barely see out of the front window. 'I expect if I'd been a real tram driver they'd have provided a box for me to stand on,' he explained, 'with my name printed on it in a nice font!'

Tomorrow is the day the Bees do their Guest Blog. Wilson has had a text from them saying to tell you all to have a pen ready when you read it, as you will have to sign a disclaimer or something because they will be saying something very controversial.

I wouldn't take any notice, but at least I've told you now…

Railway signal box

The museum wasn't just about buses and trams — there was also a tiny caravan with little bunks and a kitchen where the railway track repair men used to live, and a real signal box we were allowed to go into! 

Wilson particularly liked all the dials and the old-fashioned telegraphs, but complained that the room smelled of oil.

'I couldn't have worked in this oily smell, New Dad!' he confided. I said nothing, but reflected that if he had worked in a signal box it would soon have smelled not of oil but of anteater.

The big levers for changing the points were very stiff and he wore himself out trying to pull them — so much so that we had to retire to the tea-rooms for refreshments.

Time is getting on, though, and we'll have to see about returning to the hotel once we've finished our coffees…

Riding upstairs

Like most kids, Wilson enjoys riding upstairs on a bus… although he didn't know that until today, as I think this is the first time he's ever ridden on a bus at all, let alone upstairs on a vintage tram!

Compared to a modern bus, tram rides are immensely jerky and lurchy-about, and in the picture you can see W holding on tightly to our souvenir tram tickets with one paw and his ice-cream cone with the other, being very careful not to get ice-cream on the seats. Or on the tickets. Or himself.

He loved it so much that he asked me whether we could sell the car and buy a tram instead — I think there are one or two drawbacks to that plan that he hasn't properly considered…

Hold very tight please — ding-ding!

The driver of this vintage Tram let Wilson call out, 'Hold very tight, please! Ding Ding!' before he drove off.

W had to shout the 'Ding Ding' part, as unfortunately there wasn't a bell-push within his reach. 

However, he was allowed to go round all the passengers with a ticket machine clipping their tickets!

Transport Museum

Wilson claims to be bored by museums, alleging that they are all far inferior to his own 'Wilson Vermilingua (OBE) Museum of Old Stuff and a Robot' but I think he'll enjoy the one we're going to today — the East Anglia Transport Museum.

Here there loads of old buses and trams and things, and you can actually have free rides on many of them. Even the roads look like you've stepped out of a time machine back into the 1950s.

It's very nostalgic for me, but even though W is seeing them for the first time I'm certain that he'll love it here. 

Wilson sends special love and good wishes to Colin's New Mum, Ms Jenny, who is running the London Marathon today for the 11th time!