Play in a Day

Today I found Wilson in the Wilson Vermilingua OBE Museum of Old Stuff and a Robot, searching for my old guitar. He'd already unearthed my first-edition copy of the late Bert Weedon's Play-In-A-Day guitar tutor book, which I'd completely forgotten about. 

Having laboriously worked my way through this book in my youth, I wonder whether I should warn W that it takes way more than a day? I don't want to discourage him, so I think I'll keep quiet about it.

A career in teaching

Wilson has been considering getting a job as a teaching assistant. He says he has 'much wisdom to pass on to young humankind,' although he admits he's not overly fond of children, and he's quite impatient. 

It doesn't take a lot of internet research to discover the wages are far below what he considers fair remuneration for his wisdom and experience. Also, he was surprised to learn that he'd be expected to turn up every weekday! 'That would leave me no time to work on all my stuff!' he exclaimed, 'Next year's Grand Charity Garden Open Day, and the Wilson Vermilingua OBE Museum of Old Stuff and A Robot!'

I think he's now considering a different career path… possibly as a minstrel.

A touching presentation

Wilson has presented me with a card proclaiming me his longest-serving New Dad. By quite a big margin, apparently! 

I am touched.

I visit the Dentist

I had to have a tooth extracted yesterday. To his credit, when I emerged from the surgery mumbling incomprehensibly due to a mouth full of dressings, Wilson made a sterling effort not to giggle.

He insisted that the nurse give me an I've Been Brave at the Dentist sticker. It had a Fairy Princess on it.

The dentist told me to rinse my mouth regularly with warm salt water, but W insists on supplementing this with a mouthwash made from a decoction of ant. Apparently his mother, Mrs Vermilingua, used to give it to all her many children whenever they were suffering from any ailment, real or imagined. 

He's in the kitchen now, sieving a bowl of Ant Broth for my lunch. I expect this to be Nourishing rather than Delicious. Possibly neither.

Leonard Cohen

Wilson has declared that he is willing to give Leonard Cohen a try! 

Jan, a friend of his (of Wilson, not Cohen, as far as I know!) has suggested I start him off in chronological order with Songs Of Leonard Cohen while avoiding Death of a Ladies Man at all costs! 

This sounds like a very good plan, so I've copied Songs of LC onto the iPad and put the CD in the car stereo.

Open Day

For the last few mornings the heating has been coming on; the leaves are turning brown and falling from the trees and the wind and rain have been almost constant. There's no arguing, the Summer, such as it was, is over and it's really Autumn now. 

Wilson and I were chatting idly about the recent poor weather when he suddenly asked me the date. When I told him, his face fell. 'Whatever's the matter?' I asked.

'My Grand Charity Garden Open Day!' he cried, 'Now it's Autumn, almost Winter, the garden is windswept and waterlogged, the flowers are dying and I've forgotten to hold my Grand Charity Garden Open Day! This is a calamity! I shall have to postpone it until next year!'

Soufflé Boy

This morning I was woken from my Sunday lie-in not by the strains of Bob Dylan, but by an aria from Bizet's Carmen. A few minutes later, Wilson bustled in carrying a tray with my breakfast on it: an ant soufflé. W enigmatically told me that I could in future call him Soufflé Boy. I have no idea what's going on.

The soufflé was surprisingly un-horrible, though W did have to help me finish it. I left most of the ants.

Later, W confessed that he'd grown tired of waiting for me to start watching the new series of Dr Who and had watched the first episode last night, having been unable to sleep after reading his Leonard Cohen biography into the early hours.

Have I done the right thing?

Wilson has decided that, before he invests too much love and effort in another singer, he will do some research. To this end, he has downloaded Leonard Cohen: A Remarkable Life onto his Kindle, so he can be sure he won't get any nasty surprises or shocks if he happens to like Cohen's work. 

He says that until he can be certain about this, he will not even listen to a single song.

I hope I did right in suggesting Cohen and not, for example, Billy Joel. Or Bowie. Neil Young or Joni Mitchell. Only time will tell…

Leonard Cohen

Wilson is still very upset about Bob Dylan. 

I tried to explain that all of Dylan's back catalogue is just as good as it ever was. He agreed, but said that listening to Sad Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands will never be the same in view of what he now knows; in his head, it will always have a backbeat of Here Comes Santa Claus. 

Wilson then asked me about other music icons. I thought for a minute, then tentatively suggested... Leonard Cohen.

W immediately asked, 'Has he ever recorded an Xmas album?'

Bad Mood Rising

Still very upset by his purchase of Bob Dylan's Christmas In The Heart album, Wilson told me, 'I'm going to contact iTunes to demand a refund!' 

When I explained that all the royalties went to homeless charities (Crisis in the UK), and that in any case he'd bought the download using my credit card, he agreed not to pursue a refund... but insisted that he would never listen to it again.

Actually, W is in a pretty bad mood all round, having missed International Talk Like A Pirate Day yesterday. 

I suggested we might spend today talking like pirates, but he said it wouldn't be the same -- if there was just the two of us doing it, we'd look like idiots. 

Heaven forfend that we should look like idiots! Yarrr!

Disillusionment is a terrible thing...

Today I found Wilson listening to the iPad in a very gloomy mood. I sat on the floor next to him and asked him what was up. He silently removed one of his ear-buds and passed it to me. A terrible, terrible cacophony emerged from the tiny bud, so I declined W's offer to put it into my ear. 'It is clean,' he said, 'I washed my ears just yesterday,' but I  just didn't want to hear this racket any louder than an annoying, tinny whisper.

'What on earth is this?' I asked.

'It's Bob Dylan's 2009 Christmas album, Christmas In The Heart!' he replied, miserably. I downloaded it this morning to get me in the Xmas mood.'

'Didn't you read any reviews?' I asked.

'Only from the Music Critics,' he replied. 'They just said it was "unusual" or "iconoclastic", but they just didn't want to offend him. Now I've looked at the User reviews, and they all say it's rubbish… and it is. Mr Bob Dylan, my former hero, has Feet of Clay. The Scales have fallen from my Eyes. I am no longer a BobCat.'

We sat quietly for a few moments… in silence but for a tinny, phlegmy rendition of The Little Drummer Boy emerging from the ear-bud resting on the floor...

Christmas is Coming!

After watching the Dr Who Christmas Special last night (well, we've both been very busy!) Wilson started to feel quite Christmassy! 

He asked how long it was until Christmas, and when I told him it was only about 12 weeks, he became very excited and went to bed to begin drawing up his Christmas Presents List for Father Xmas. 

I'm even feeling a little bit Christmassy myself.

WILSON HAS WRITTEN A BOOK!

Look, everyone: Wilson has written a book! He's VERY excited and he'd like you all to take a look, and to send it to your friends! 

It's only got eight pages, so it won't take long to read... in fact it's nearly all pictures, so what have you got to lose?

http://issuu.com/friendlydragon/docs/anteaters_in_space_book

Hey Little Hen

This morning I was woken by Wilson's singing… this time not a Dylan song, but the WW2 classic Hey Little Hen. 

When he'd finished, I asked him if he'd tired of Dylan's songs, and he frowned, saying, 'Of course not. Hey Little Hen is one of Dylan's early classics! It dates, I think, from the transitional period between his protest songs and going electric.'

I tried to put him right, but he refused to believe me. He stomped out of the room, returning a few minutes later holding his (actually, my) iPad, which was playing a video. It really did appear to be a video of Bob Dylan singing Hey Little Hen, but closer inspection revealed it to be Burt Kwouk on the Harry Hill Show. 

It's an easy mistake to have made, and we continued to sing Hey Little Hen together for the rest of the morning… in our Dylan voices.

Is that Mr Harry dressed as Allen Ginsberg in the background? And isn't that Stoufa the Cat's head peeking out of the wheelie bin?

See the video for yourself here, at around the 9m50s mark:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z4h6-gDWqe8

The Future has slipped from my grasp...

I was watching Wilson while he cooked lunch today. He was humming and singing to himself, and I caught the words, 'Come mothers and New Dads dum-de-dum-de-dum/Don't criticise what you can't understand/Your dum-dum-te-dum are beyond your command/Your old road is rapidly changing/Please get out of the new one if you can't lend a paw' etc, and I thought, Hang on, that's MY generation's battle-cry. 

But now I'm a part of the older generation, and the future has slipped from my grasp… It's now up to youngsters like Wilson to try to make a better world than the one we've left them with. Good luck with that!

THIS IS AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT

AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT

(And for once, it does not involve mis-sold Payment Protection Insurance)

Wilson suspects that a scurrilous paparazzo may have used a long lens to shoot some topless photos of him. 

If you come across them, perhaps in some French or Italian Celebrity Scandal-Mag, or on the Internet, he begs you not to look at them as it would cause him extreme embarrassment.

A world of mystery...

This morning I brought my coffee in to the living room, and I found Wilson shouting the word 'NOW'. 

I asked, 'For what reason?'

And he said, 'How?'

And I said, 'What does this mean?' 

And he screams back, 'You're a cow. Give me some milk or else go home.'

I just don't know what to think; I feel like a prisoner in a world of mystery…

It must be vinyl...

Aha! As soon as Wilson heard me discussing the vet, he almost immediately returned to talking normally. He said that before, he had been trying to perfect his 'Bob Dylan' voice, a sort of husky, laryngitic croak such as a heavy smoker might make first thing in the morning. 

Even now his normal voice has miraculously returned, W has started speaking only in Dylan lyrics. I recall he did the same thing with John Lennon lyrics last year… and that was no less annoying than this. 

In the picture, you can see Wilson sorting through his recently-acquired Dylan albums. I already own all this stuff; I sold the vinyl years ago and bought it on iTunes. But W says the only way to listen to this is on vinyl, which he has bought quite expensively on eBay. Together with a record player. All sent Express Delivery.

Something is happening...

Wilson's voice is down to a croak now, and I can hardly understand what he's saying. 

He's been trying to tell me something all morning and I think I've just made out what it is:

     'You say you lost your faith but that's not where it's at,

      You have no faith to lose and you know it'

Also, he keeps calling me "Mr Jones".

Something is happening, but I don't know what it is.

I think I'll have to make an appointment for W to see the vet. I hope he doesn't get referred to see the Pet Psychiatrist again, he was really expensive… but if that's what it takes, I'll bite the bullet and pay.

Model Village

Wilson is considering building a Model Village in the garden. He says it would be a great draw for people visiting his Grand Charity Garden Open Day. 

I remember he was very impressed by a model village we visited on holiday. In the one he's now planning, however, he says that there could be a model Industrial Estate or Factory Farm, where he could breed his ants. 

W's voice is going a bit croaky -- I hope he's not coming down with something.