BACK SOON!

When I got back from driving Wilson to the Zoo, I found he'd left a note for you magnetted to the fridge door...

SWEARING A SOLEMN OATH

Before we left for the Zoo, everyone had to swear on a bowl of spaghetti (it's some sort of Pastafarian oath thing) that they will look after, water and generally protect his Tomato Farm while he's away.

Then Wilson went round to say goodbye to his tomato plants before reluctantly climbing into the back of the car and waving farewell to everyone. 

Even Uncle Z turned out to see him off!

As we drove away, I noticed W putting up a poster in the rear window...

FAMILY VISIT

'Before we think about holidays,' I replied, 'it's that time of year when you visit your family at the zoo. Reconnect with your Mum, Mrs Vermilingua, and meet all your new half-brothers and -sisters!'

'Don't make me go, New Dad!' he groaned. ' My Mum, Mrs V, has only got FOUR tv channels, and they're all black-and-white! And dial-up internet! There's no Wi-Fi!'

'Come on,' I said encouragingly, 'you'll love seeing your Big Sister Andrea again, and little Byron!'

He regarded me doubtfully.

'Honestly,' he said, 'this is a bad time for me to leave; I'm about to apply for an EU Farm Subsidy for my tomato farm!'

'And as soon as you get back,' I continued, 'we'll go on a proper holiday — I promise!'

I think that has tipped the balance — I'll phone the zoo and get them to tell Mrs V to expect him at the weekend...

THE JOY OF FARMING

Wilson is now relaxing in the garden, reflecting on how his tomatoes are doing all the work while he has only to sit back and wait to become rich. 

I think there's a little bit more to farming than that, but he seems confident. 

As he rocks gently back and forth on the swinging seat, he asked me whether I would like a holiday.

'I might do...' I replied cautiously — I've learned not to commit myself when answering that kind of question when Wilson is asking it.

'Because I rather fancy another trip to Liverpool,' he continued, 'as I really need to touch base with The Beatles!'

I cast my mind back to our last trip to Liverpool — enjoyable and fun but freezing cold; even the pigeons on the banks of the Mersey were wearing little scarves and shivering.

TOMATO FARM

As soon as we got home from the Garden Centre, Wilson hurried out into the garden to establish his Tomato Farm next to his Museum.

His 'Farm' consists of two polythene 'greenhouses' that each accommodate a GrowBag of compost and about three plants. 

Supervised by The Bees, he is carefully transplanting the seedlings into the compost and watering them in. As he plants them, he is talking to them — explaining that this is their new home and he hopes they'll be happy here. I suppose if talking to plants is good enough for Celebrity Eccentric Prince Charles, it's good enough for Wilson.

W says that his 'greenhouses' will protect the tomato plants against changes in temperature, but he will worry about garden pests and what he calls 'Tomato Rustlers' until his 'Guard Piglet' is in place.

TOMATOES ARE THE WAY FORWARD

For reasons which I can't even begin to comprehend, Wilson has decided that what he 'needs' to do, 'immediately' is grow some tomato plants.

Consequently I was whisked off the the local Garden Centre to buy some tomato seedlings. 

We bought what seemed to me an excessive number of plants, but W insisted that he knew what he was doing, and this was the optimum number to meet our forthcoming tomato needs.

On the drive home, he mentioned that what would be the perfect addition to his 'tomato farm' would be a pet piglet. This would apparently supply all the tomatoes' compost needs, in addition to keeping down their natural predators...

_________________________
Very sorry there was no post yesterday, due to a major computer crisis. :(

BIT OF A PROBLEM!

Due to a major computer failure, I can't post any 'Ant Wars 2' updates for the moment. ☹️

Don't worry, Wilson is fine (although he blames me for the Computer Crisis. Obviously) and we'll be back on-line as soon as possible.

THE CALMING POWER OF CAKE

We retired to the farm café where I attempted to calm Wilson down with a cup of strong coffee and a Belgian Bun. 

He sat quietly for a while, absently sprinkling ants over his food, before asking me, 'Do you think it was like that when I was born, New Dad?'

I told him it probably was. He thought for a few minutes, then said, 'I thought I knew all about being born, because I helped my Mum, Mrs Vermilingua, with all her babies after me — but it wasn't all yucky like that!'

'How did you help her?' I asked.

'Well, he replied, ' I sat in the kitchen doing some colouring-in and keeping out of the way, while my Big Sister, Andrea, ran about with towels and hot water. And told me not to worry. Or go into the bedroom...' 

He drifted into silence.

'Is that what was happening in the bedroom?' he asked. I nodded.

'Eeeuw!' he exclaimed. 

But then, with the resilience I have come to expect from anteaters, he tucked into his bun and drained his coffee cup.

Smacking his lips and dusting crumbs out of his fur, he asked me one last question: 'So, what do you think about a pet pig? He'd be adorable, and I'd walk him and clean him and feed him and everything!'

I told him I'd think about it.

I think we all know what that means...

BIRTH TRAUMA

Just after Wilson had finished feeding the baby piglet, we heard a commotion coming from the next shed.

Hurrying out to see what was going on, we arrived in time to see a ewe in the very late stages of labour. There was a lot of frenzied bleating, and then a baby lamb popped out into the straw!

I turned to see what Wilson had made of The Miracle of Birth, but he had collapsed onto the floor in a dead faint.

I made him as comfortable as I could, and the shepherd kindly ran off to the café to bring him some water and see if he could find any ants in the yard.

As W began to come round, he started humming Broken, Beat and Scarred from Metallica's Death Magnetic album. This was the very music his Mum, Mrs Vermilingua, had played as Wilson's Birthing Music. Also, his Conceiving music, as it happens — she only had two records, and Death Magnetic was her favourite.

This makes me think that W is experiencing some sort of Rebirthing Trauma. 

I hope I don't have to take him to see his psychiatrist again — he's quite expensive.

BEES' BLOG

Hello, we are Polly and Billi The Bees, and this is our Guest Blog!

Well, what do you think of our new 'set'? We thought it was time, since we have such important messages, to increase our professionalism, so we bought some Banner Displays to stand in front of, just like Politicians! And Police Chiefs!

This month, our message concerns Dandelions!

Dandelions are one of the first Spring foods for bees! Dandelions are native to all temperate areas of the planet, providing nectar and pollen as early warmer temperatures awaken bees — where else can a hungry bee find an early meal in the Spring, when nothing else is blooming?

Also, dandelions are very pretty and a cheerful colour — don't think of them as 'weeds' but as wildflowers that are easy to grow. If they were difficult to grow, you'd ALL be trying to cultivate them!

We'll see you again next month — until then BEEEEEEEEE GOOD!

PIGLET TIME

Once we got inside the farm, and Wilson had been assured that the sheep wouldn't bite him, he started handing out sheep food to all and sundry. He even tried it himself, but decided it 'needs more ants' — his standard criticism of any food he doesn't like.

There were not only sheep and lambs on the farm but also calves, foals, a baby piglet and his mummy, field mice, chickens and a farm cat. Wilson isn't  quite certain whether cats like him, but he offered this one some sheep food, which it refused.

Later the farmer invited him to bottle-feed some lambs, an opportunity W jumped at. Afterwards he told me they were 'Mighty little suckers!' who had all but pulled the bottles from his paws.

Then he fed the baby piglet, which was adorable.

When we get home, I'm expecting a campaign for W to be allowed a baby pig. Having seen the piglet's mother, who is the size of a small family car, I shall resist these requests with all my might!

Finally, The Bees have asked me to remind you that it will be time for their Guest Blog tomorrow, and they've amped up the experience to a new, more professional level. Whatever that means — they are still tight-lipped about exactly what will happen!

Anyway, find out what transpired in the rest of our trip to the farm the day after tomorrow — see you then!

SHEEP FARM

Today, as I'd promised, I took Wilson to our local Sheep Petting Farm.

He was so excited that by the time I'd parked the car and made my way to the entrance he had already bought our tickets and a bag of Sheep Food, and was standing outside shouting, 'Hurry up, New Dad! Hurry up! The baby lambs are waiting for me to feed them!'

I hope our visit takes his mind off waiting for comedians to reply to his emails asking whether they wanted to buy some of his jokes...

NEW SCHEDULE EXPLAINED

Wilson is busy emailing comedians to see whether they want to buy any of his jokes, while The Bees have banned everyone from entering the dining room because they are preparing for their 'extra special' Guest Blog on Sunday. 

Which leaves me, for once, at a bit of a loose end. So I thought I'd take this opportunity to explain why you've been seeing fewer stories about Wilson lately.

Anyone who has looked after young children knows what hard work it is, and taking care of young Wilson is like trying to keep toddler triplets out of trouble in a working sawmill with no safety guards: it's a 24/7 job!

So recently, I've been posting W's adventures just five days a week instead of seven, which leaves me Tuesdays and Thursdays to get on with my own work. I hope you understand.

This weekend I plan to take W to a local sheep farm to see some lambs being born — I'm sure he'll love it. 

He'll either love it, or he'll be so shocked he will have to see his therapist again...

THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGHT!

Between writing down jokes (while TT was gasping for breath) Wilson confided to me that, just because he didn't understand most of the jokes didn't mean he couldn't monetise them. 

He plans to try selling them to tv comedians; people like Michael Mcintyre and Bradley Walsh, both of whom he really likes. He says it will be a convenient way of getting rich because he can do it from the comfort of his bed.

TT took a deep breath and started up again:

'So, there was a mathematician who had a cattle farm. He had 198 cows, but when he rounded them up he had 200! As a child, I had an obsession with Posh Spice — it cost my mum a fortune in saffron. A man walked into a bar — ouch!'

Wilson raised his paw and observed, I've already heard that one!'

'In that case,' TT replied, 'you've been a wonderful audience, and I've been Tiny Toy. Thank you and goodnight!'

PURE GOLD

Suddenly Wilson clapped his paw to his forehead and exclaimed, 'D'oh! What am I thinking?'

He rushed back and opened the brown paper bag, tipping TT unceremoniously out onto the table.

As soon as he was out of the bag, TT took several deep breaths, coughed and continued:

'Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen! Anyway, the first time I got a universal remote control, I thought to myself "This changes everything." I asked my North Korean friend how it was there — he said he couldn't complain...'

I thought Wilson had suddenly realised that using the Bag of Serenity* had been an overreaction, but that was not the case — he snatched up his pencil and started writing all TT's jokes into his Joke Book, muttering, 'This is gold! Pure Gold!'

*Patent pending

JOKEATHON

Wilson can still barely contain his curiosity about what is in The Bees' Parcel.

Between them, Polly and Billi carried it off to their room, saying only that it was a surprise and everyone would have to wait for their Guest Blog on 1st May to see what it is.

This uncertainty has made W pretty tense, and Tiny Toy's constant litany of jokes isn't helping settle his nerves:

'Anyway, what happens to a frog's car when it breaks down? It gets toad away! I went to Waterstones and asked the woman for a book about turtles. She asked: "Hardback?" and I was like: "Yeah, and little heads." Just read that 4,153,237 people got married last year — not to cause any trouble but shouldn't that be an even number? I think my neighbour is stalking me as she's been Googling my name on her computer. I saw it through my telescope last night. I went to a zoo last week...'

It was at this point that Wilson finally snapped, and he picked TT up by his tail.

'There was only one animal there,' TT continued, undaunted, 'and that was a dog.'

Dropping him into a brown paper bag, he closed the top.

From within the bag a tiny, muffled voice was just audible, shouting, 'It was a shih-tzu!'

A MYSTERIOUS PARCEL

This morning a parcel arrived, addressed to The Bees!

This is unprecedented, and Wilson had to read the label several times before finally conceding that it wasn't for him.

He is consumed with curiosity, not helped by Polly and Billi being very secretive and refusing to open the package until they are alone...

Tiny Toy, meanwhile, has hit his joke-telling stride, and is reeling off a stream of non-stop one-liners:

'Okay, What's the difference between a Hippo and a Zippo? One is really heavy, the other is a little lighter! Surely every car is a people carrier? Red sky at night: Shepherd's delight. Blue sky at night: Day.'

As TT paused for breath, the Johnson Brothers and Anthony applauded him and whooped enthusiastically.

'So,' he resumed, 'Today a man knocked on my door and asked for a small donation towards the local swimming pool — I gave him a glass of water. I changed my password to "incorrect" — so whenever I forget what it is the computer will say "Your password is incorrect".'

TT TELLS A JOKE

After a period of intense anticipation, during which everyone stared at TT, he took a deep breath and said, in a dead-pan voice, 'A man walked into a bar. Ouch!'

Wilson frowned, then asked, 'Did the barman say, "Why the long face?"'

TT replied, 'No, it was an iron bar.' 

After an embarrassing pause, he continued, 'Okay, what's orange and sounds like a parrot?'

W scratched his head  for a moment, before TT supplied, 'A carrot!'

Antony thought for a moment before bursting into laughter. 'An IRON bar!' he giggled, but Wilson climbed off the swinging seat and wandered away, shaking his head.

NAME CHANGE

Following his in-depth research into the social and family life of ants, Wilson has changed the name of his proposed novel.

It will now be called Ants Are Pretty Much All The Same — Until You Eat Them and will be less of a novel, more of a recipe book.

Wearing a glum expression as he sat on the garden swing with his literary collaborators, he told me he'd had no idea what an authoritarian, fascistic race ants were, all driven by unquestioning obedience to the whims and wishes of the Ant Queen. 

Warming to his theme, he explained that ants have no social life, nor any understanding of individuality, and instead of names they have only ranks and numbers.

I wondered aloud whether this information itself might not make an interesting book, but Wilson dismissed my idea out of hand.

'D'you know what, New Dad?' he replied, 'I can't be arsed! It's a novel or nothing — you can't get rich writing textbooks!'

On a more positive note, however, TT suddenly shocked everyone by announcing that he'd thought of a joke for Wilson's Joke Book.

NINETEEN EIGHTY-FOUR

Wilson, still stuck for plot ideas for his novel All Ants Are Not The Same, has decided to go straight to the horse's mouth, so to speak — he's interviewing the residents (AKA inmates) of his Luxury Ant Farm (AKA The Pantry) to see if they have any interesting family secrets etc.

So far all they have told him is, 'We Are Ant! Resistance Is Futile! You Will Be Assimilated!' which doesn't sound very hopeful to me, although it does tend to confirm Wilson's Mum, Mrs Vermilingua's thesis that ants are not individuals so may be safely eaten by a vegetarian.

At this rate, though, Wilson's novel will be a lot less Poldark and a lot more 1984...