When Wilson emerged from the toy shop he thrust his purchase — a Junior Doctor Kit — into my hands, grabbed his surfboard and ran towards the beach.
Sticking his board nose-first into the sand he waited nonchalantly by it until a couple of surfers passed him.
He called out to them, 'Caught any gnarly tubes, dudes? I'm looking spend some time in the glasshouse!'
'Point your nose thattaway, dude,' the older one replied, 'See ya out back!'
The other added, 'Hey, nice Thruster, man!'
'Awesome — thanks! Um... Cowabunga!'
With that, W returned to me, beaming from ear to ear, and we resumed our search to find Doc Martin's Surgery...
Leaving the Village School we set off in search of Doc Martin's Surgery, but on the way Wilson noticed a toy and souvenir shop and ducked inside.
He caused a measure of mayhem with his surfboard, sweeping things off the shelves and onto the floor with it every time he turned around.
You know that saying about A Bull in a China Shop? I think its modern equivalent should be An Anteater With a Surfboard in a Toy Shop, such was the pandemonium he wrought.
Fearing a massive bill for breakages, I offered to stand outside the shop with his 'stick' while he made his purchases — I think there is little danger of me being mistaken for a Surfer Dude...
Soon we came across the 'Village School' where 'Louisa Ellingham' (Caroline Katz) teaches older Primary children. While it was once a real school, it has now been converted into a restaurant.
Wilson has avoided any formal education so far (actually I think this is the closest he's ever been to a school in his life) so is pretty unfamiliar with the concept of 'school' except for what he's read about it in The Beano, The Dandy and Tom Brown's Schooldays (Abridged, Illustrated Edition), so he didn't know what to expect as he peered through the windows into the 'classroom'.
What he saw was a roomful of mostly adults eating and not a teacher in sight, so he concluded that it was 'School Dinners' time between morning and afternoon lessons.
Of Caroline Katz, his prospective fiancée, there was no sign.
'She's probably got her feet up in the Staff Room,' he told me, 'having a G&T and a rest from teaching all those surprisingly mature students. We'll come back later...'
With this we headed further into the village in search of Doc Martin's Surgery.
I'm afraid Wilson still has a very tenuous grasp of the difference between Real Life and TV Drama.
When we arrived at Port Isaac (the pretty Cornish village that pretends to be 'Port Wen' in the Doc Martin TV series) we parked on the outskirts and walked the short distance to the village.
Before we set off, Wilson circled the car park looking for any BUFFALO PICTURES vans (that being the name of the Doc Martin Production company) but came up empty.
I'm quite relieved, actually — there would have been a measure of embarrassment involved if the Director and crew had been there and W had started performing impromptu auditions.
Walking down the lane to the village, Wilson suddenly and unexpectedly shouted at the top of his lungs, 'Prepare yourself, Port Wen — I am amongst you!' Several people turned and stared, and I blushed a little.
As we approached the outskirts of the little port, we started to recognise some of the buildings from the show, remarking on them to each other...
Once he and his family were fully protected from marauding lions, Wilson settled down on the bed to check his email.
He hasn't received any response from the Editor of The Daily Telegraph about his job application to be a columnist, but he took this disappointment philosophically.
'I'm not really surprised,' he told me. 'After that Mendacious Brexiteer Boris Johnson, they probably think I'm overqualified!'
Following several minutes of earnest tapping on his (my) iPad he announced that he had just sent a further email to the Editor, asking to be considered for the position of Daily Telegraph Surfing Correspondent.
But tomorrow is another day. We shall visit 'Port Wen' and Wilson will possibly meet his future fiancée Caroline Katz and snag a starring role in an episode of Doc Martin.
I think 'possibly' is the key word here...
Once we had established that TT was still alive, Wilson demanded to be sprayed with Lion Repellent before the escaped killer invaded the hotel, took the lift to our floor, broke into our room and killed us all.
I removed a can of deodorant from the bathroom and showed it to W. He regarded it suspiciously, then announced, 'That's RightGuard — it's a deodorant!'
'Ah!' I replied, 'That's what it LOOKS like — Lion Repellent is packaged like that to avoid panic when a lion escapes. Look closely, and you can see that the last number on the barcode is a 6 — that's the special code so that Mums and Dads know it's the SPECIAL spray without worrying their children!'
I sprayed Wilson lightly all over with the RightGuard (and I must say, he did smell a bit better after that) then gave Antony a light coat before finally treating the prone figure of TT.
Lastly Wilson gave me a good squirt, saying, 'You just can't be too careful where escaped man-eating giant cats are concerned, New Dad — if you got eaten, I'd be an orphan!'
Wilson was so concerned about the escaped lion that we skipped our usual drink in the bar and sprinted straight up to our room, where I'd told him I had a can of Lion Repellent which I'd packed for this very eventuality.
As we entered the room, however, we beheld a scene of devastation! It looked as though it had been occupied by a Rock Band from the 60s. It had been trashed... though in quite a modest way, since on closer examination it became clear that only the bed was affected.
In the middle of the mattress lay Tiny Toy, flat on his back, snoring loudly and drooling, surrounded by the entire contents of the Mini Bar. Mostly empty.
Wilson had left him in the Mini Bar fridge to keep him cool during the heatwave, but it appeared that he'd not only escaped but drunk the fridge dry!
TT has proven himself very resourceful in the past — he must NEVER learn about Room Service...
Over dinner at a country pub, I asked Wilson what he'd like to do tomorrow — he said he'd like to visit 'Port Wen.'
'Port Wen' is actually the fictional village where the tv series Doc Martin is set, but there is a real village, Port Isaac, where the programmes are filmed.
It is Wilson's dream to turn up during filming, be spotted by the Director and offered a starring role, possibly as Doc Martin's Locum but failing that as a holiday maker with an exotic disease. Or food poisoning.
However his real aim is to meet the co-star of the show, Caroline Katz — he hopes to take a couple of selfies with her before proposing marriage.
A major flaw with this plan is that Ms Katz is already happily married. Also she is quite a lot older than Wilson, but he won't hear a word spoken against his scheme, although I fear it will end in tears...
Driving back to the hotel we heard a News Bulletin reporting that there is an escaped lion at large in Cornwall. Wilson immediately activated the car's Central Locking and began staring nervously out the windows.
I shall have to think of something good and reassuring before we get back!
Hello, we are The Bees, Polly and Billi, and this is our Guest Blog!
Recently the shambolic British Government finally got something right when they voted to reject a plan for the 'emergency use' of some banned pesticides that kill bees! It would certainly have been an 'emergency' for us bees, we can tell you!
To celebrate, we're throwing a party — it's by the lavender patch round the side of the house, and all bees are welcome! We've provided some Nibbles — honey and Royal Jelly — and there's a dripping tap nearby full of clean, fresh water!
If you know any bees, please tell them to get round to Wilson's New Dad's house straight away!
So, we've been the bees and we'll see you next month. Until then, BEEEEEEE GOOD!
Oh look, here comes the first of our guests!
#savethebees
Wilson wanted to take a closer look at the surf pounding on the beach so, removing his Wellington Boots from his ManBag (which I had been carrying, obviously — that's why it's not called an AnteaterBag) he pulled them on and carefully picked his way over the rocks.
A few moments later he returned to get his crabbing net as he'd seen some 'well weird creatures' in the rock pools and wanted to investigate without having to actually touch them or get his paws wet.
Before setting off with his net, he rested his Board on the rocks and sat Antony on it so he could pretend to surf.
This was almost too much for the little guy, and I shall definitely have to pop him into the Brown Paper Bag of Serenity soon, to calm him down!
_____
The Bees have asked me to remind you that it will be their turn to blog tomorrow, and to celebrate some recent bee-related legislation they're holding a party in the garden, next to the lavender.
They say that if you know any bees, please tell them they'll all be welcome at the party — drinks and nibbles will bee provided!
Once the decision had been made, we headed off to the charming little fishing port of Mousehole.
As we passed several direction signs, and our SatNav kept referring to (although mispronouncing) our destination, Wilson eventually conceded that perhaps it WAS a real place after all.
We parked on the outskirts of the village and walked in along a coastal path, pausing for W to admire the view. And the Atlantic Rollers.
'I can't wait to catch some Tubes, New Dad!' he remarked. 'Just look at those choka barrels — Bitchin!'
As we strolled on down to the beach, he confidently explained to me the meaning of Carpet Diem, which he has been shouting a lot lately. It is apparently a Latin or Greek saying which roughly translates as: Let's see what we find on the carpet today!
Having retired to a nearby café for some 'grindage' (I have no idea what that even means) Wilson ordered a burrito but settled for a vegetarian Cornish Pasty, which he declared to be 'Primo!'
Over coffee we discussed where to go next, and W said he'd really like to visit Mousehole.
I think this is because
(a) he doesn't believe there's really a town called Mousehole, and
(b) if there is, he thinks it will be populated by giant mice.
I'm pretty sure he'll be disappointed on both counts, but it is a really lovely little village, so I'm certain he'll enjoy his visit.
Given Wilson's legendary dislike of water, I was most surprised when he handed me his bucket and spade, shrimping net etc to hold while he disappeared with Antony into a surfing supplies shop.
About half an hour later he emerged carrying an enormous surfboard, calling to me, 'Check out my primo Stick, Dude!'
Leaning this against the shop window he ducked back inside, reappearing after a few moments with a stack of Surfaris and Jan & Dean CDs.
Passing the CDs to me he tucked the surfboard under his arm, remarking loudly, 'Man, I'm Totes Noodled! Let's jet to the food hut and grab a burrito and some sweet nectar. Latronic, dude — Cowabunga!'
Next it was time to choose and buy what Wilson calls his 'holiday essentials' — bucket and spade, bats and balls, shrimping nets and several gaudily-coloured plastic items whose purpose I could not even begin guess at.
When he emerged from the shop, he hailed me, 'Hey Dude! Look at my Primo Stuff! Now let's Safari!'
As we set off, he remarked, 'Man, is this totally tubular, or what?! Carpet Diem!'
I'll tell you what was 'tubular' — if tubular means wholly and utterly unexpected: the next shop Wilson went into...
Looking down from the promenade, we could see a lot of little black things that look a bit like seals, but are too distant to really make out.
Within seconds I have parted with a coin and Wilson is checking these creatures out through a telescope. A moment later, he declares that they're either humanoid aliens, or people wearing shiny black suits — and they're balancing on tiny boats!
Taking a look through the telescope myself I determined, unsurprisingly, that rather than aliens the figures were in fact Surfers.
I explained to W what Surfing is and mention that Newquay is a major centre of Surfing and Surf Culture, due to it's fine and reliable... well, surf.
To my surprise, Wilson raised one arm and shouted, 'Carpet Diem!' before grabbing his sun hat and Antony, and we all headed off into Newquay town centre.
Following a remarkably large and multi-coursed breakfast, we set off to see what the day held for us.
The first thing we did was to cross the road to take in the view over the bay and out to sea.
As we gazed at the vista before us, Wilson remarked that he should have sent a copy of his job application to Ms Caroline Katz — just to demonstrate to her that he's an anteater with ambition and who's going places.
Once Wilson had sent off his email job application to the Editor of the Daily Telegraph (BCC'd to the entire newsroom, the owner, all the shareholders, Teresa May, Jeremy Corbyn and Nick Clegg) he spent a restless night worrying.
Every few minutes he'd boot up his iPad and re-read his application to make sure he'd spelled all the difficult words properly.
Finally he fell into a deep sleep and awoke refreshed and hungry.
In the dining room he ordered a Full English Vegetarian Breakfast for himself — and for me, saying that he'd happily finish up anything I left.
You may be aware that the UK is now in the grip of a heatwave — Wilson is certain that's due to him, since it started immediately after he posted a weather forecast chart predicting exactly that!
On the drive down to Newquay W dozen a lot of the time, but he was awake for a news bulletin announcing that since Boris Johnson has been appointed Foreign Secretary [no, I don't believe it either!] he has given up his column in the Daily Telegraph from which had previously trousered £275,000 per year.
As soon as we had booked into the hotel Wilson ran up to our room and logged-on to the the hotel's Free Wi-Fi with his iPad and started composing a letter to the Telegraph's Editor applying for Boris' recently-vacated job.
Since Wilson didn't go to Eton (or, indeed, any school at all) I don't suppose he'll get the job — but I honestly think he could do it!
Still, if he doesn't get the Telegraph gig, there might be a career waiting for him at the Met Office...
The sTone Brothers have been given strict instructions about guarding the Tomato Farm while we're away... the Bees have assured Wilson that they will text him if anything bad happens... and we're off!
It takes W fifty or so miles to stop worrying about whether he's locked the doors, turned off the lights in his 'Museum' and so on, but I've reassured him that the Bees will be able to take care of any minor mishaps during our absence.
So, apart from (numerous) comfort breaks: Next Stop Newquay!
The weather this year has been very disappointing, but today the sun is shining weakly so the Bees have taken their two boys, Johnson and Johnson, out for a picnic in the country before the rain returns.
The lads — being adopted ladybirds — aren't really interested in pollen or nectar, but the Bees are insisting on bringing them up as bees.
I can't see this ending well but, despite being adopted myself, I'm not an expert in these matters. I just predict that in a few years time the Johnson Brothers will be writing to Nicky Campbell at 'Long Lost Family' trying to locate their Birth Parents...
Anyway, Wilson has put up a Weather Forecast Chart showing sunny weather ahead — he told me he expects it will make people feel happier if they think sunshine is around the corner, and it might encourage the Jet Stream to sort itself out and bring us brief period of summery weather for our holiday before winter sets in.
I'm not certain this is how weather works, but what do I know?
