Pre-Loved Flowers

Once we'd got home I pressed Wilson about what was going on, and he reluctantly agreed to explain. 

His research (hanging around in the foyer at Tesco) had apparently revealed that 17% of shoppers (mostly women, but he didn't have the precise figures to hand. To paw) bought a bunch of flowers.

'They take them home, look at them for a week then throw them away!' he said.

'Yes, because they're dead,' I replied.

'Ah! That is where I come in, with the Wilson Vermilingua OBE on-line Pre-Loved Flower Boutique!'

'You're going to try to sell dead flowers to people?' I asked, incredulously. 'For actual money?'

He raised one claw and touched the side of his nose knowingly.

'Not until I have subjected them to my Top Secret Refurbishment Process which will restore them to their original beauty!' he said, pulling something out from beneath the sofa…

Industrial Injury

Wilson has decided to treat the 'getting stuck in a recycling bin' incident as an Industrial Injury, but since he's self-employed he can't decide who to sue. He says that his solicitors, Messrs. "I Can't Believe It's A Solicitors" will advise him. 

I hope that, in the absence of anyone else, I don't turn out to be the Defendant Of Choice — perhaps I should seek legal advice myself.

Anyway, I've finally managed to persuade W to explain what he was doing in the recycling bin in the first place: looking for dead flowers. 

He added that to say any more would endanger his Intellectual Property Rights, the USP of his new business, so I'm really still none the wiser.

Yet… 

Stock acquisition

I've just had an odd telephone call from one of our neighbours. She said she'd heard a noise coming from one of her recycling bins, and when she went to investigate there appeared to be an anteater stuck in it. She said she was just calling to see whether I knew anything about it.

I ran round to her house and, sure enough, found Wilson struggling to get out of her Green Waste bin. 

Once I'd pulled him out I told him that he couldn't just go round rooting through other people's dustbins, and asked him what he thought he was doing.

Having been stuck upside-down in the bin for quite a long time he wasn't in the best of moods. He dusted himself down and replied with as much dignity he could muster that, at this point, he did not wish to discuss the matter.

Research

This morning Wilson popped into the village, first to Tesco to 'Do some research' then on to the Estate Agents to 'Scope out some business premises.'

He still won't tell me what his new enterprise is, but he confessed that the shops available at rent he could afford didn't quite fit in with the sophisticated business image he was hoping to create, so he might open an eBay shop just until he gets established. 

All he would tell me was that his business would have impeccable 'Green Credentials' and would involve recycling, so that sounds pretty good. He also said that following his research at Tesco, he was more confident than ever of success with his unique new venture, and would be seeking to float it on the Stock Exchange.

I'm sure I've heard all this somewhere before…

Homecoming

I collected Wilson from the Digital Detox Clinic last night, and we had a very emotional reunion! 

Once he was home I cooked his favourite meal (from his Mum, Mrs Vermilingua's secret recipe) Ant Lasagne with Extra Ants, and we discussed what he'd learned during his Detox.

Apparently the Head Nurse, a Miss Mildred Ratched RCN, was very upfront with all the residents, telling them that in a week there was no hope of de-addicting any them from The Internet, so instead there would be a series of lectures on Safe Internet Usage. 

These covered such topics as, How Not To Be Groomed, How Not To Be Phished, How Not To Get Into Trouble With Your Parents' VISA Card While Online, How Not To Find You've Bought A Mail-Order Bride etc. All very useful stuff for a 21st Century Anteater. 

Apart from that, it seems they all sat around playing 'Name That Ant!' for cash (as a result of which Wilson now has a very tidy bank balance) and watching a Swedish supernatural/police procedural tv series called 'Jordscott.' 

I don't know whether or not that was appropriate viewing, but having to read the subtitles was good practice for some of the slower animals.

W also had time enough to have an idea for a 'Totes Brill Cannot Fail' new moneymaking business venture, which will apparently involve him renting an empty shop in the village…

POSTCARD!

I've had a postcard from Wilson at the Digital Detox Camp, and he seems to be doing alright!

I shall be so glad when he's safely home again…

It's quiet here…

It is SO QUIET without Wilson running about, getting into mischief and inventing things. His little tumble-dryer bedroom looks so empty.

I'm really missing the little guy.

I hope he's alright…

Tearful farewell

I suffered a brief moment of panic when I couldn't find Wilson this morning, but he was in the garden saying goodbye to the sTone Brothers — he hasn't run away from home and he has accepted his fate. 

He's got a lot less packing with him than when he goes on holiday — in fact it's all fitted inside his "Hi Wilson!"™ Gym Bag. He's taking his Tiny Clanger knitting pattern and some wool, in case there's anyone at the Camp who can help him with his casting-on. 

He'd also packed his iPad 'just in case!' but I confiscated that.

After a tearful farewell to everyone we set off for the Digital Detox Camp.

Once I'd settled him in and helped him unpack I kissed him goodbye and promised him that if he got a good report we'd go on holiday together somewhere nice as soon as he returned home. 

Tough Love

I've made up my mind: Wilson is going on a Digital Detox! It's at a lovely house in the country and lasts for round about a week, depending on the progress he makes.

To say he is not happy about this would be an understatement — he's in the garden at the moment eating what he describes as his 'last meal' before running away from home.

All his friends are out with him trying to persuade him not to leave. Even Uncle Zoltan has rocked up to advise that life on the road is not all it's cracked up to be, and to tell W that if he's expecting to get by on Public Free Wi-Fi he can forget it.

We set off for DD Camp tomorrow. 

If he hasn't left home by then…

The Facts Of Life Part Deux

Bees' Guest Blog

Polly: 'I've found a photo of myself dressed as a princess just before the Queen Bee Selection Battle commenced. Billi didn't take part in this, because she was picketing against Bee Beauty Pageants at the time — she turned up in denim and carrying a placard… and I think that was when I first fell for her. She was such a rebel! Still is!'

The two bees smiled fondly at each other before Polly continued.

'Anyway, so after the big Princess Fight the last bee standing, which wasn't me, obviously, was crowned Queen. That evening she went on a date with the most handsomest boy bee of her choice, and some time later she put some eggs in her special "Queen Cups" — it's very romantic!'

Billi: 'So, now you know all about Bees — next month we'll tell you about The Birds!'

Polly: 'Yes, we'll see you next month with more interesting and educational facts from…' 

Both, in unison: 'The Bees!'

Knitting Therapy

Wilson took the knitting pattern from me, and asked where I'd got it.

'One of your friends, who is extremely concerned about you, emailed it to me to give to you, and I printed it out,' I replied.

'Exactly!' he exclaimed, 'Yet you would deprive me of this educational resource! This opportunity to keep in touch with my friends! This 21st Century Boon to All Mankind!'

I tried to explain that I didn't want to deprive him of the internet, but that I thought that his attachment to it was becoming... obsessive.

Once he'd assembled his balls of knitting wool, he called me into the living room and told me he thought I'd downloaded the pattern in the wrong language. 

He read a passage aloud to me: 'Cast on 6 sts. Row 1 (RS): Knit. Row 2: Purl. Repeat last two rows once more. Row 5: K1, m1, k to last st, m1, k1. (8 sts).'

I had to admit that I didn't understand it either, although the odd word here and there was in English.

'Wasn't the pattern for Colin The Knitted Camel like this?' I asked.

'I didn't have a pattern for Colin.' he said, 'I made him up as I went along!'

In retrospect, that does explain a lot about Colin…

If you'd like to knit your own Tiny Clanger, the pattern is here: 

http://www.radiotimes.com/news/2015-06-09/knit-your-own-tiny-clanger

Online again

Yesterday I hid the iPad in my most secret hiding place. It's the place where I hide Wilson's Xmas and birthday presents and all those 'grown-up' magazines I don't want him to see: science journals with articles about Reality, Consciousness etc. Also, just to be on the safe side, I turned off the Wi-Fi router.

This morning I found Wilson sitting in the living room browsing his email on the iPad!

'How did you get that?' I asked him.

'Oh, good morning, New Dad — I found it in that place where you hide all that stuff you don't want me to see!' he replied cheerfully.

'And the Wi-Fi?'

'I know all the neighbours' passwords. Did you know that some of the neighbours are getting much faster connections than we are? You should think about switching suppliers!'

Yesterday I'd told him I had something to distract him from his on-line virtual life, and today I gave it to him: it's a knitting pattern to make Tiny Clanger. 

He loves The Clangers so I hope this will give him something to do with his paws and keep him out of trouble.

Dead-Heading Roses

This morning I asked Wilson to give me a hand with dead-heading the roses He usually enjoys this, due to the number of ants he catches unawares in the rose bushes, but this time I had an ulterior motive: I thought it would be a chance for me to have a man-to-man chat with him. Man-to-anteater.

By the time I'd fetched my secateurs, however, I found him engrossed on his iPad, so I sat down with him straightaway to have a chat.

He reluctantly admitted that he might possibly have a bit of a problem, saying that he had to constantly check Twitter and email, day and night, to make sure he stayed in touch with all his friends and be certain he wasn't missing anything.

I told him I thought I had just the thing to take his mind off that, then we got on with the gardening together — me deadheading, he taking care of the ants. 

But not before I'd taken the iPad and hidden it in the house. 

Wilson's secret vice

The Bees shuffled their feet for a minute, looked around to ensure that we were not being overheard, then reluctantly admitted that they too were concerned about Wilson — to such an extent that they'd considered giving him a bottle of their precious Royal Jelly as a tonic.

I asked them what they thought the root of his problem might be, and Billi replied immediately, 'It's that Interweb thing! He spends all night on it, so he never gets any proper sleep!'

This was a revelation to me — I'd noticed he checked his email a lot, but I'd had no idea it had become a problem. From now on I shall keep a close watch on his night-time activities, and make sure he gets out in the fresh air and sunshine more. 

To change the subject to a happier topic, I asked them about their Guest Blog next month, and they're both very excited about their Facts Of Life Part Deux post. Apparently Polly has found an old photo of herself in her Bee Princess frock, taken just before she took part in the Bee Beauty Pageant, which she's looking forward to showing everyone. 

That's worrying news about Wilson, though — I really hope he isn't sexting his friends or joined Tinder…

WE HAVE A WINNER!

Yesterday Ms May Iris correctly worked out that the ant in question was a Honey Pot Ant. There has been so much internet interest in this game that this morning everyone had assembled in the kitchen to see what was occurring — even reclusive Uncle Zoltan!

'Oh, the Gold Sovereign Ant!' he remarked casually as he passed the card in question, 'So-called because of its resemblance to a Gold Sovereign, and frequently passed off as such during Victoria's reign.'

Wilson rolled his eyes and snorted on hearing such codswallop and went off with his crayons to prepare some more cards — he'd only made two, and now they've both been guessed.

However, you're probably anxious to understand the clue Wilson gave for this question, "This mixed-up fellow has false foot phalanges."

Phalanges are the bones in the fingers and toes, so foot phalanges refers to a toe. False is a synonym for phony, so: Phony Toe. Mixed-up suggests an anagram, and an anagram of phony toe is Honeypot, hence the answer. QED.

As Wilson had left the kitchen, I took the Bees aside and asked them whether they'd noticed anything amiss with him. 

They looked awkwardly at each other and shuffled their feet, before Polly took a deep breath and spoke…

A further revelation…

I've been worrying about the clue Wilson gave for this card, so I persuaded him to explain it to me. After swearing me to secrecy, hid did so, and although it's quite involved, I think it is legitimate… as long as you like your clues cryptic.

I told him if he ever wanted a job he might apply to The Times Crossword Department!

Actually, W has been very tired lately, and i little bit withdrawn. I hope he's not sickening for something...

Anyway, here's the next section of the card revealed — there's a close-up view as well, because W says we're just getting to the 'Dead Giveaway bit!'

Game 2

What with all the excitement of yesterday, Johnson Minor has arrived to see what's going on, though I doubt whether he'll be able to join in. 

Wilson has said that today's picture will be easy to guess, but the clue is much more difficult than yesterday's!

While Johnson Major inserted the new card, Antony, in a voice shaking with anticipation and gravitas, read out today's clue: 'This mixed-up fellow has false foot phalanges'

If you think you know the answer, send it in for a mention; if no-one can solve it, another section of the card will be revealed tomorrow!

It's quite exciting isn't it?!

It's Play Time!

Johnson Maj. took out an envelope and held it up; Antony tugged the card a little bit and read the clue from the back: 'This Ant made up half a singing duo in the 70s—80s.'

I then said, 'I'll name that ant in five!' (which is the maximum I could bid).

Wilson countered, 'I'll name that ant in four!' (He was humouring me because, having written the clues and made the cards, he already knew the answer. Not to mention being an acknowledged Ant Expert — never play against him for money!)

Can you Name That Ant? First person with the right answer gets a mention; if no-one works it out, another section will be revealed tomorrow! Remember, we're looking for the variety of the ant, not names like 'George' or Phyllis'...

Name That Ant...

Wilson has told me it's okay to show you his new game, Name That Ant… and to explain the rules to you. So here goes:

First one of the hosts, in this case Johnson Major, takes a small envelope from the box and the other host, in this case Antony, reads aloud a clue printed on the back of the envelope, then pulls the card inside slightly up to expose the number '1' and the top of a picture of an ant.

The two contestants, in this case Wilson and myself, take turns to 'bid' how few sections of the picture need to be exposed in order to correctly identify the ant's breed.

Come back tomorrow to see how the game progresses…

Fathers Day

Wilson burst into my bedroom shortly after dawn this morning to give me a paw-made [it's like hand-made, but harder to do] Fathers Day Card (in which he'd written that I was by quite a stretch the longest-lasting and most tolerant of all his many New Dads — I was very touched!), a Fathers Day fresh-cream cake and a pre-production pack of his new Name That Ant! game.

After opening my card and declining a slice of cake ('It looks delicious, Wilson, I'll have a slice at breakfast time!' 'You don't mind if I have a bit now, do you New Dad? I'll try not to get crumbs in your bed.') he explained the rules of Name That Ant! and we played several rounds. All of which I lost. 

It's a very difficult game, and unlike Top Trumps: Ants! you can't really guess. I'll ask him whether it's alright for me to show you how to play tomorrow…

W told me that he would be cooking Dinner for me tonight (Lasagne, his Mum, Mrs Vermilingua's secret recipe) and he'd bought me a special bottle of beer which we could share this afternoon.

I asked him whether Antony had given him anything for Fathers' Day — he said he didn't know yet because everyone else was still asleep.

Wilson how has his own Appreciation Society here: http://tinyurl.com/oloj6ck