Wilson has written a letter to the Flying Spaghetti Monster, explaining about the ‘miracle’ he thinks he witnessed and applying for the job of Pastafarian Saint.
Since the Church of Pastafaria is a satirical ‘religion’ founded to mock the teachings of creationists, I can only guess how his letter will be received.
What puzzles me even more is, how W knows the address of the Flying Spaghetti Monster…
Father Xmas [Santa Claus] perhaps, but an actual deity – albeit a satirical one?
I finally located Wilson round by the Asteroid Shelter, where he and the sTone Brothers were staring, awe-struck, at Mr Juicy’s grave.
(You may remember Wilson’s friend and co-star, Mister Juicy The Talking Orange, who died in tragic circumstances at the end of last year.)
I followed their gaze and saw, picked out by a sunbeam, an orange tree, bearing several oranges, growing out of the tomb.
‘It’s a Miracle, New Dad,’ Wilson whispered to me – ‘It’s a bona fide miracle!’
‘It’s NOT a miracle,’ I started to explain, ‘it’s just that Mr Juicy must have had some seeds in him when you buried…’
But Wilson continued, ‘I shall write to the Flying Spaghetti Monster – He will probably declare Mr J a Pastafarian Saint! He might declare ME a Pastafarian Saint, because I discovered the miracle!’
On hearing this, the sTone Brothers started shuffling about and trying to attract W’s attention…
Wilson was in the garden discussing yesterday’s match with the sTone Brothers.
When the Uckfield Bees play, their usual position is Left and Right Goal Posts, so their knowledge of The Beautiful Game is about as shallow as W’s – but none of them let cluelessness stand between them and a good chat as they discussed such topics as:
• Is Football Really Coming Home?
• What does that even mean?
• Should the Half-Time Break be extended if some of the players need a bit of a nap?
and
• Should the Handball Rule be relaxed if all the players have paws?
Suddenly, though, the air was rent by W screaming, ‘New Dad! New Dad! Come quick – something’s happened!’
I ran out into the garden to see what had occurred, and to determine whether First Aid would be necessary…
The Bees, being Owner-managers of their own football club (Uckfield Bees) have been taking a keen interest in the World Cup.
Consequently, they have prevailed on everyone to spend the afternoon sitting indoors in the stifling heat watching the England v Sweden quarter-final match on tv.
TBH, no-one else has much interest, although it’s hard not to be swept up by the general air of excitement prevailing throughout the country.
Uncle Zoltan is apparently supporting Sweden – but only because he is a natural contrarian!
When Wilson first saw his honey on toast, he said he wasn’t hungry and couldn’t face any food.
However, he took one bite, just to please The Bees, and it seems to have stimulated his appetite – barely an hour later has consumed quite a considerable meal and declared himself to be ‘Still sad… but full up!’
Once we were alone, I asked W why he had been summoned to the zoo in the first place.
‘Well, New Dad,’ he began, ‘my Big Sister Andrea thought she was going to have a pup, and she wanted me to be her Birthing Partner – that’s why I took the spoons and the Kazoo!’
I asked, ‘What did she have – a little boy pup or a girl?’
‘Neither!’ he replied. ’The Keeper called the Vet in, and she said it was a “Phantom Pregnancy” – I got very excited then, because I thought I was going to be the uncle to a baby ghost… but all it means is that you’re not really having a baby at all. Queen Victoria had one, apparently – whoever she is.’
As soon as we got home, Polly and Billi The Bees took Wilson into the dining room, where they sat him down with a plate of buttered toast with honey, famed, apparently, for its restorative powers.
In spite of the heat, Polly insisted on draping a warm blanket round W’s shoulders, ‘For the shock.’
Wilson, surrounded by only his closest confidantes, took a small bite of toast and honey, and smiled bravely.
Even Uncle Zoltan showed up – he toyed awkwardly with his top hat for a minute, before walking up to W and announcing, ‘Terrible business, old chap. Terrible. Sympathise, dont’cha know. Still, stiff upper lip, what?’ before he walked away shaking his head, and leaving a trail of footprints in the butter…
We started the journey in silence.
After a few miles I turned the radio on, but the song playing was The Beatles’ And I love Her – Wilson reached out and tapped the Off button with his claw.
I stopped the car in a Lay-By so we could talk; Wilson held out the Polaroid he’d been gazing at since I first saw him – it showed a pretty young sloth, smiling at the camera.
‘This’ he told me, ‘is Cinthya Nazereth – the loveliest sloth in the world...’
After a moment, he continued, ‘I was certain she’d marry me – we’d done some kissing round the back of the Capybara Enclosure and everything – but she said she wasn’t quite ready to settle down yet.’
I shook my head sympathetically.
‘Still,’ he continued, ‘She did say it wasn’t me, it was her – so that’s something!’
‘Yes,’ I agreed, ‘it is – hold on to that thought.’
I started the engine and continued our journey home…
Hello, we are Polly and Billi The Bees, and this is our Guest Blog.
We hadn’t been looking forward to today’s instalment, because we were going to have to bring you the very sad news that the first Bumble Bees have been added to the Endangered Species List – The Rusty Patched Bumble Bee is now Officially Endangered!
But as though that weren’t enough, now there’s this terrible news about Wilson!
As you know, Billi and I have been married for a couple of years now, so we’re very unhappy to hear that Wilson’s Wedding has been cancelled.
Once he gets home we’re going to try to cheer him up by cooking some of our favourite Bee Recipes for him – how can anyone stay sad when they’ve got a nice plate of Honey on Toast in front of them?
Even Uncle Zoltan – having himself been jilted when barely out of his pupahood – feels poor W’s pain…
Halfway to the zoo I received an SMS from Wilson, asking me to collect him as the wedding had been cancelled.
When I arrived, I found him sitting disconsolately outside the entrance staring at a Polaroid photograph.
He was accompanied by Byron, who was pacing awkwardly up and down looking exactly like someone who couldn’t think of the right thing to say.
I put an arm round W’s shoulder and said, ’Come on, mate, let’s get you home.’
Byron punched him gently on the arm and W gave him a halfhearted smile in return.
He climbed into the car with a sigh and slumped in the front seat, and as Byron waved us off we started our journey back to Uckfield…
The postman has just delivered the most extraordinary postcard – from Wilson!
As soon as I’ve calmed down I shall drive out to the zoo to see what on earth is going on.
I can tell you now, I’m not happy – Wilson is still only a baby! MY baby!
Since he was summoned to the zoo by his Mum, Mrs V, I’m wondering if this is an Arranged Marriage – do they have those in Costa Rica?
Preparing to drive to the zoo, Byron climbed into the car straight away (to ensure that we didn’t leave without him) while Wilson strode around the car inspecting the tyres critically.
He advised me, ’These tyres would be a lot more durable if you’d let me fill them with rubber instead of air, New Dad!’
After a moment’s thought, he added, ‘Actually, those Traction Engine tyres were so hard, I think concrete might be an even better option!’
As The Bees and their children waved us off from the front window, we embarked on our journey to the zoo – and whatever awaits us there…
_____________________
There is no Wi-Fi at the zoo, so I don’t know when I’ll hear from Wilson next – probably when he phones to be brought home.
Of course, I’ll tell you if I hear anything, but he’ll probably be incommunicado for several days at least…
Wilson has received a phone call from his big sister Andrea summoning him and Byron urgently back to the Zoo.
Byron is busy packing his things, while Wilson – who for some reason thinks I could at any moment spring a Surprise Holiday on him at short notice – keeps a ‘Go-Bag’ ready at all times.
For once, that might prove useful!
Since the original call, W has received a follow-up SMS asking him to bring with him his Spoons and Kazoo.
As his case is already filled to bursting, he asked Byron whether he could slip them into his case, subject to B not using them in any way. Obviously.
Spoons and Kazoo, eh? This can mean only one thing!
Once we were back home, relaxing after the excitement of the Steam Fair, Wilson and Byron sat chatting quietly in the garden.
Wilson was explaining, in excruciating detail, the manifold advantages of his new invention, ‘Vermilingua’s Totally Unpuncturable Tyres for Cars and Bicycles’ while Byron made valiant efforts to feign interest and not yawn.
Things were complicated by Uncle Zoltan’s constant interruptions claiming that the Pneumatic Tyre had been invented by one of his forefathers, Maksymilian Dunlop Zoltan, but both boys were doing their best to ignore him.
Just as W was outlining the concept of filling conventional tyres with rubber instead of air, his phone rang – it was a call from Andrea, his Big Sister at the zoo, saying that both the boys were required at home.
She assured him that everything was okay and his Mum, Mrs Vermilingua, was perfectly well, but requested both boys to return home, if possible by the weekend…
We’ve eaten ice creams, we’ve tested our strength, we’ve ridden on a roundabout, we’ve admired a weird car – now, at long last, we’re looking at a Steam Traction Engine!
The boys were strangely unimpressed.
Byron was obsessed with what was inside the wooden box fixed to the back (W had told him it was the driver’s lunch box, and was probably filled with ants) while Wilson studied the solid tyres and wondered whether he could invent something along those lines and sell them as ‘Vermilingua’s Totally Unpuncturable Tyres for Cars and Bicycles’…
Moving on, the boys were still full of talk about how they would buy a Robin Reliant Halftrack between them when they were a bit older.
Byron blushed when Wilson told him that such a car would be a ‘total chick magnet’ and said they’d be able to go on double dates in it.
Passing a Classic Cars Roundabout ride, they both pleaded for a go. I handed over £4 and they selected the cars they wanted to ride.
There was a lot of arguing about who should drive the frontmost car as they rightly predicted that ‘Overtaking will be extremely difficult, if not impossible – even worse than at Monaco!’
Grid Positioning was eventually settled by means of a lightning-fast ant-hunting contest.
Once seated they pretended they were driving not classic vintage motors or F1 racers but ‘The coolest cars in the World’ – Robin Reliant Halftracks…
As we made our way back to the main arena, we passed a small but unusual car.
Wilson ran over to it, and announced that this was his ‘Dream Car’ – the car he wanted to own when he grew up and was old enough to drive – and Byron agreed.
It had never occurred to me that a Robin Reliant would ever be anyone’s Dream Car – but then, I’d never before seen a Robin Reliant halftrack.
The boys walked round it several times, declaring it to be ‘Way Cool’ and ‘Awesome’.
I could appreciate that it would be good over rough terrain, and that if W were driving he probably wouldn’t be able to exceed any speed limits, but beyond that its appeal rather eluded me.
It must be my age.
Or my love of comfort in a car…
Next on the boys’ list of Things To Do was to win a prize on a Test Your Strength stall.
As it happened, the mallet was too heavy for them even to lift unless they carried it between them, so they appealed to me to demonstrate my virility and win a prize for them.
It will probably come as no surprise to you to learn that this demonstration of muscularity on my part ended ignominiously – the bell did not ring, although I did get seriously out of breath and had to have a bit of a sit down on the grass.
I’m not certain, but I thought I saw a fleeting look of disappointment pass briefly across Wilson’s face.
Anyway, I took the lads off to see some of the traction engines, and promised them something nice in the Refreshments Tent later…
As soon as the boys had consumed their ice-creams, they turned their attention to the Steam Organ by the entrance.
It played wonderful tunes, old and new, and the lads were transfixed.
Wilson went so far as to ask whether we could sell our television and buy a steam organ instead!
I pointed out that he wouldn’t be able to watch any of his favourite TV shows on a steam organ – Spiral… Dr Who… Jeremy Kyle…
W admitted that would be a bit of a problem, and said he might try to build his own steam organ in his ‘Museum’.
I guess I’d better keep a close watch on the kettle in the kitchen…
After we’d parked the car in a field and were making our way towards the entrance, there was a lot of noise, and I hoped the boys wouldn’t be overwhelmed or scared by everything that was going on.
Just inside the showground we were greeted by a mechanical Steam Organ and a Brass Band, each trying to outdo the other, plus a constant background noise of escaping high-pressure steam, and steam whistles and hooters.
Also a wonderful smell of burning coal such as I’d barely experienced since my childhood.
But the boys were completely unfazed by the noise, the crowds and commotion – they ran off to buy themselves ice-creams, saying that they couldn’t possibly enjoy the experience until they’d consumed some sugar and some chilled fat…
I’m sorry about the short notice, but there won’t be any blog today – as the weather is so lovely, I’m taking Wilson and Byron to a local Steam Fair at Tinkers Park!
I’ve never been before, but I’m really looking forward to it, and I think the boys are going to LOVE it!
