I eventually coaxed Wilson out of his tumble dryer by holding some of his favourite snacks in front of the glass door – snacks which I had prepared myself, including a bowl of chilled ant soup and a plate of ant lasagna, followed by ant scones with Cornish clotted cream, strawberry jam and extra ants.
By the time he started on the cream scones, I tried to tease some information from him, and it turns out that the 'medical emergency' to which he'd been summoned concerned his Mum, Mrs Vermilingua.
Apparently she was about to give birth to (yet another!!!) litter of pups and her gramophone had broken down. Mrs V can famously not give birth without Birthing Music, and although one of the zoo keepers had lent her an MP3 player, none of the anteaters knew how to work it. Wilson was the obvious choice to save the day by downloading and playing Metallica's Death Magnetic album to her at the critical time.
I asked why that had taken so long, and he replied that when all the birth-giving was over, Andrea had taken him aside and said she had something to tell him – something she thought he was now old enough to understand.
But he didn't want to talk about it.
Wilson is still sitting in the tumble dryer, looking desperately sad.
I asked Polly if she could cheer him up, or find out what's wrong, but neither she nor Billi could gain any insight.
Apparently W told them, 'Please don't waste your time trying to cheer me up – there's nothing you could say that would help.'
I hope I won't have to force open the tumble dryer door and take W to the animal psychiatrist again...
This morning, to my surprise, a taxi drew up outside – the driver rang at the front door and explained that he had a small anteater on board whom he'd just brought from the zoo, and requested me to pay the fare.
While I was paying the cabbie, Wilson walked slowly into the house, head down and wearing a troubled expression.
'Welcome home, Wilson!' I exclaimed, 'I've really missed you! How's your Mum?'
'Do you mean Mrs V?' he asked bleakly. 'She's fine.'
'And Byron? Andrea? Are they all well? Any new brothers or sisters?'
Without replying, Wilson simply made his way slowly to the Utility Room, where he climbed into his tumble dryer, drawing the door closed after him.
Something is very wrong, and I've no idea what it might be – I'll have a word with Polly to see if she can elicit any information from him.
I hate seeing him so upset when I'm powerless to help...
Wilson has been away visiting his Mum, Mrs Vermilingua, for over a week now. I haven't heard from him and I'm getting a bit anxious.
He was summoned to the zoo due to a 'Medical Emergency' with Mrs V – I hope she's alright, or Wilson will be devastated.
This morning I telephoned the zoo, and the Head Keeper told me that Wilson would be home 'very soon' but he's having some difficulties assimilating some 'bad news' he's received.
She wouldn't elaborate on what this bad news might be, due to what she called 'Resident Confidentiality', but she did say she thought W would get over it soon – though he might need some extra TLC.
I await his return with trepidation...
Following yesterday's unpleasantness about keeping anteaters on a lead, this morning Wilson was quoting from 1960s Cult TV Series, The Prisoner.
'I am not a number; I AM A FREE MAN! Oh... ANTEATER!'
I've no idea where he gets this stuff from, but I suspect film buff Antony has a lot to do with it.
Later, while Wilson was sitting quietly in the living room watching tv with the Bees, he received a phone call from Andrea, his big sister, at the Zoo where his family lives.
There is apparently a Medical Emergency, and Wilson must get there as soon as possible.
Naturally, I dropped everything and bundled him into the car to drive him to the zoo straight away.
On the way I asked him exactly what Andrea had said, but he was too agitated to tell me – he just kept repeating, 'Drive Faster, New Dad! Turn on your Blues and Twos! My Mum, Mrs V, needs me!'
This morning Wilson had briefly popped round to Harlands Farm Pond to visit the ducks, when he came across some worrying new signs erected by the Council.
They say that Anteaters are to be 'Kept on a lead if requested' and exhort people to be 'Responsible anteater owners.'
I can't help thinking this is directed at me! Wilson is – as far as I know – the only anteater in the village; ergo, I am the only anteater owner.
Wilson was quite upset by the signs, but as I tried to comfort him it gradually emerged that what was troubling him was not the idea of being put on a lead so much as the concept that anteaters could be OWNED.
'Am I not a Free Anteater?' he asked, 'In the Immortal Words of Lieutenant Commander Data of the USS Enterprise, 'If you tickle me, do I not laugh? If you prick me, do I not... leak?'
In a desperate effort to lighten the moment, I tickled him.
He did, indeed, laugh, but there was a sadness in his eyes...
I thought it best, for the time being at least, not to prick him!
Uckfield Bees have played their first match!
They challenged a bunch of woodlice they found living in Wilson's Asteroid Shelter — and WON! Wilson refereed, but insists that was not the reason for the Bees' victory.
This is probably true, because (a) he doesn't understand any of the rules of football, and (b) he spent the entire match constantly blowing his Referee's Whistle — and after a few minutes everyone just ignored him.
Moreover, the woodlice had even less understanding of the game and its rules than Wilson, and couldn't kick very well*.
Immediately following the Final Whistle a celebration Victory Party ensued, in which much Waggle Dance Beer was consumed.
They're all sleeping it off now, but I predict a lot of headaches tomorrow.
Even while sleeping, Wilson won't relinquish his Referee's Whistle — it's still in his mouth, making a gentle wheezing sound as he breathes in and out...
___________
* they couldn't kick at all, actually, due to their very tiny legs
The Bees have somehow obtained a tiny little White Lining Machine to mark out their football pitch.
They're busy putting down lines in what they hope are the right places, while Mole calls out the measurements they're working to.
Against all my expectations, they're making a pretty good job of it.
I had no idea such minute implements were even a thing, but I guess it just goes to show that you can get almost anything you want from eBay – if you look hard enough!
When I tried to mow the lawn so the bees could mark out their footy field, I found that the lawn mower wouldn't start.
Closer examination revealed Antony sitting in the battery compartment, pretending he was driving a Formula 1 racing car, while Dave the Pig attempted to carry out a wheel change...
Wilson asked me to save some of the grass cuttings, telling me that I was overlooking a 'valuable cash crop.' He's going to try making Grass Jam and Grass Marmalade.
I hope he puts enough ants in it to take away the taste of grass.
And weedkiller.
In spite of Wilson's recent exhortations against football, today he is mowing the lawn at the request of The Bees.
This is because they have a 'Big Match' soon, and they need to mark out their football pitch in good time.
W is making quite heavy weather of the mowing — and I can sort of see his point of view: he's not tall enough to reach the handle of the mower.
I expect that means I shall be doing it myself, as soon as I've had my morning coffee...
Hello, we are Polly and Billi the Bees, and this is our Guest Blog!
Today we've brought our children, Johnson Major and Johnson Minor, with us to our little allotment to help us improve the environment by planting some lovely seeds and tend our seedlings. It's great fun – you might enjoy it too, if you give it a try!
What with so many terrible things going on in the world, we thought we'd try to cheer you up today with some jokes! Here goes:
Q: What do you call a Bee that lives in America?
A: A USB
Q: What buzzes, is black and yellow and goes along the bottom of the sea?
A: A bee in a submarine.
Q: What do you do with a sick Wasp?
A: Take it to a Waspital.
We should point out that these jokes were supplied by Wilson's Tiny Toy. We don't understand any of them, so if they're rude, please accept our apologies.
However, TT assured us that they were 'Comedy Gold!'
Speaking of terrible things, and not wanting to bring you down after that comedic interlude, it is now four months since dear Uncle Zoltan disappeared. Please be on the lookout for him while you're out and about.
If you come across Uncle Z, DO NOT APPROACH HIM, but just call us on Wilson's New Dad's telephone number straight away!
Anyway, we've been The Bees, and we'll see you all next month – until then, BEEEEEEE GOOD! 🐝🐝🐞🐞
Wilson popped out of the room for a moment, and I could hear him rummaging around in the tumble dryer.
When he returned, he had a small photograph in his paw, which he held up so everyone could see. We all squinted at it.
'On the last day of the holiday, I persuaded Dennis to come out sight-seeing with me, and we went to see the Lighthouse at the Needles,' he explained.
'Dennis didn't really want to come on the boat with me, but I convinced him he'd enjoy it, so eventually he agreed to come.'
'Is that how he always looks when he's enjoying himself?' Billi asked drily.
'No, he didn't really enjoy it at all.' Wilson replied. 'He was sea-sick over the side!'
Wilson passed the photo to me, explaining that it had been taken with Dennis' vintage camera, which is apparently his pride and joy. However, not only is a trip to the Chemist's involved before one can see the pictures, it's output seems to leave something to be desired...
After staying up well past his bedtime last night, Wilson has just finished the next instalment of your free 2017 calendar: JULY 2017.
The picture shows him being very brave on the Isle of Wight – not on the holiday with his friend Dennis (which by all accounts was a bit of a disaster) but when he went there with me a year or so ago.
The whole family had so many questions about Wilson's holiday with Dennis that he assembled everyone in the living room to tell them about it.
First he said that he just missed the IoW Festival – he should have taken his tent – so no, sadly he did not see Rod Stewart. Or The Undertones. Nor Barry Gibb. (Unsurprising, as Barry Gibb was at Glastonbury, not IoW!)
Polly asked whether he'd happened to see any sign of Uncle Zoltan on Wight Island, and W said he had not.
There followed a barrage of questions from his excited family.
W held up his paw for silence and admitted that he'd spent the entire holiday indoors with Dennis watching old VHS tapes of County Cricket Matches on a black-and-white tv, while drinking Earl Grey tea with no milk... but with plenty of tea-leaves floating around in the cup.
A shocked Antony asked, 'What – so you didn't go out at all? In the hottest week in living memory?'
'We went out just once,' W replied, adding, 'I've got a photo here somewhere...'
While Wilson was away I hired a Skip [Dumpster] so I could sort out some of my rubbish. It's on the front drive, so it's pretty difficult to miss. Wilson did not miss it.
As soon as the car had stopped he jumped out and dashed over, fished out an old amplifier to stand on and began rooting through the contents looking for 'exhibits' for his 'museum'.
I knew I should have had it collected before W returned – I know from past experience that everything except the used tea bags and coffee capsules will be retrieved, cleaned and exhibited in the 'Wilson Vermilingua Museum of Old Stuff and a Robot'.
'Why don't you come inside to say hello to everyone?' I asked, 'Have a nice chocolate milkshake and some cookies? The skip will still be there tomorrow.'
Reluctantly he climbed down and we went indoors...
On the drive home, Wilson explained that, contrary to the title of the article he'd been reading in New Scientist, Reality is not so much Real as surreal.
Grasping the existential nettle which I knew lay at the root of this discussion, I asked him, 'So, do you believe you're real or not?'
'Oh, I'm Real!' he replied, confidently.
I relaxed, hoping that another Crisis had been averted... but he continued, 'So long as I'm being observed, anyway – we mustn't forget that the Copenhagen Interpretation is still the Standard Model. You must look at me constantly to ensure I don't wink out of existence.'
I glanced across at him, but he shrieked, 'Watch the road, New Dad – I'm too young to die!'
Trying desperately to change the subject, I asked, 'So how was your holiday?'
Wilson held up a massive and ancient book entitled Modern Etiquette for Modern Anteaters, saying, 'Dennis gave me this. He said my manners were "not incapable of improvement" in some departments.'
My hackles rose a little at this, as I believe his manners to be impeccable (for an anteater) but I continued to ask about what he'd been up to.
He seemed uncharacteristically reticent in his answers...
I arrived at the station a few minutes late, and I found Wilson sitting on the platform waiting for me with his cases, engrossed in a copy of New Scientist Magazine.
Glancing at the cover, I saw that the featured article was, REALITY IS REAL – we've just been looking for it in the wrong place and my spirits sank a little at the thought of Wilson suffering another Crisis Of Reality.
Anyway, he seemed as pleased to see me as I was to see him, and gathering up his cases we headed back to the car.
I've just received a call from Wilson (he borrowed one of the zoo keepers' phones) saying that he'll be coming home tomorrow, and asking me to meet him at London Road Station!
I'll be glad when he's safely home again – with just me, Diesel the Goldfish and all W's stuffed toys, the house is just too quiet without him...
_____
If you were listening to BBC Radio 5 Live's 5 Live Breakfast at around 8:20 this morning, you probably heard Wilson's name mentioned!
I hope he heard it too... although Dennis is probably more of a BBC Radio Four listener...
☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️
As the temperature soars to an almost-unprecedented 32ºC (90ºF) I hope Wilson is wearing his sun hat and putting some Factor 50 on the end of his sniffer.
I expect the zoo keepers will take care of that, won't they?
The house is very quiet with just me, Diesel the goldfish and dozens of stuffed toys — I'll be glad when Wilson returns home...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sTJ7AzBIJoI
Yesterday the postman brought me a letter addressed to:
New Dad
New Dad's House
Uckfield
England
Europe (for the time being)
The World
The Milky Way Galaxy
DO NOT BEND! DO NOT OPEN UNTIL SUNDAY!
The use of the title 'New Dad' was a bit of a clue, and as expected it turned out to be a Father's Day communication from Wilson.
