TV interference

Wilson's Light Sabre seems to cause a lot of interference on our TV — you'd think the Jedi Scientists would have sorted that out by now!

I pointed this out to W, who replied, 'But how could they be jamming us if they don’t know… that we’re… coming?'  As usual, I don't know what he's talking about, but he agreed to keep his weapon turned off at least while Boardwalk Empire is on tonight. 

We didn't watch much of Children in Need last night, but W was very affected by what we did see, and was moved to make a donation. 

If you'd like to do the same, you can go to: http://tinyurl.com/9ej37v2 

Make it so

Today, Wilson is communicating only in quotations from Star Wars. He says that it's part of 'The Method.' 

I asked him if he fancied coming into the village with me for a coffee, and he said, 'Awwwww! But I was going into Tosche Station to pick up some power converters!'

I have no idea what that means, but I took it as a No and asked him if he'd like me to bring him a cup of tea and a cookie? 

He deepened his voice and replied, 'Make it so, Mr Riker!'

I'm not an expert, but even I know that's Star Trek, not Star Wars!

The Method

Amazon has just delivered a load of book about Method Acting, all addressed to Wilson. He's in the conservatory with them now, reading about Lee Strasbourg and Stanislavsky and 'The Method.' 

Also, he appears to be speaking to me only in quotes from Star Wars. 

The sooner this audition comes and goes, the better!

An unusual insurance claim...

I've just found a Light Sabre burn on the sofa. I don't know exactly how I'm going to explain that to the insurance company.

Wilson has received yet another message of encouragement, this one from his friend Joe:

"The Force, young Wilson, strong with you may be."

Although this is clearly from Joe, W insists that it's really from Yoda, and won't be persuaded otherwise. He's taking it as a very Good Omen.

I am your father!

Wilson is now in rehearsal, with Polly-B playing the part of Darth Vader: 

W: 'I'll never give in. You killed my New Dad!'

P-B: 'Bzzzzz No, Luke, I AM your bzzz father!'

W: 'Noooooooooooo!'

P-B: 'Yessssszzzzz!'

W: 'Why did you cut my arm off?'

And so on.

WIlson's friend Rhonda has sent him a message: 

"Break a leg, Wilson!!"

At first he thought this was a curse from a rival auditionee, but I explained that it was in fact a traditional good-luck message to actors of the highest calibre. 

Star Wars script

Wilson has settled down in the dining room, his trusty Light Sabre (he hasn't tried it yet — couldn't find enough AA batteries) and a cup of tea at his side, script on his lap, learning his lines for his Star Wars Audition. Antony is helping by reading all the other characters' parts. 

Occasionally I will hear raised voices as W declaims in a Shakespearean voice, 'You are a member of the Rebel Alliance and a Traitor!' or 'Try not. Do… or do not. There is no try!' or something equally dramatic.

Meanwhile, messages of encouragement continue to trickle in; here's another typical one from his friend Sheila:

'Whoo hoo Wilson! Knock 'em dead in that audition!'

Light Sabre

Wilson has received several letters of support, encouraging him in his bid to land a starring role in the next Star Wars movie! 

Here is a typical message, from his friend Bob:

"I really would love to see Wilson in Star Wars; just imagine an X-wing fighter piloted by an ant eater, it would be a box office smash. Good luck, W, in the auditions."

He's just popped in to the village to buy a Light Sabre so he can start rehearsing tomorrow. 

Just a TOY Light Sabre, I hope!

Star Wars

All thoughts of his novel have been temporarily thrown aside as Wilson has read that the Producers of 'Star Wars' are holding Open Auditions today in Bristol, with London to follow on November 23 and 24. The Producers are looking for a handsome, smart and athletic male to cast as the lead character called William. 

'I am a handsome, smart and athletic male!' he declared. 'My name is Wilson — that's LIKE "William"! Also, "Star Wars" is my favourite film — I shall be a shoe-in! I hope my Leading Lady is pretty!'

Following the aftermath of him watching 'Moon' Wilson has been banned from seeing any Science Fiction movies, including 'Star Wars,' but he's pleaded to be allowed to download them onto the iPad, and I've agreed.

He's asked me to call him William from now until the audition date, to help him get into character. 

Wilson tries to promote his new book

This morning Wilson, hung-over and dehydrated, looks a lot less Noël Coward and a lot more Hunter S Thompson as he sips his triple espresso with paracetamol. 

'I've still got Writers' Block, New Dad,' he complained. 'Also my Literary Agent couldn't get me onto The Alan Titchmarsh Show, nor Loose Women. Not even The One Show.'

'Really?' I asked, trying to sound surprised.

'She said the best she could do was get me an appearance on Dickinson's Real Deal, as long as I had something old to sell.'

He buried his face in his paws and sighed.

Writers' Block

Wilson, after starting work yesterday on his novel 'Postcards From The Zoo,' is now suffering from Writers' Block. He's spent all day in the tumble dryer with his Editor (Antony), Researcher (Tiny Toy) and a bottle of Ant Gin. Occasionally he will stick his head out to shout, 'The Pressure! It's Intolerable, Dear Boy!'

Meanwhile his Literary Agent (Polly-B) is on the phone trying to arrange an appearance for him on The Alan Titchmarsh Show to promote his book. 

Hopefully after he's finished writing it. 

Noel Coward

Unable to sleep after the excitement of last night's bonfire, Wilson started reading Carrie 'Princess Leia' Fisher's book 'Postcards From The Edge.' This morning he has decided to write a book based on the postcards he sent me while on holiday with his Mum, Mrs Vermilingua.

He's working on it now, and tells me it will be a 'funny, brash and biting novel called "Postcards From The Zoo" and will apparently be quite like "Postcards From The Edge," but with more pictures.' He is confident that it will be 'a sure-fire best seller, as long as it gets the right promotion.'

He's writing it in his dressing-gown because he thinks it makes him look, as he puts it, 'well Noël Coward.' I just hope he doesn't start smoking a pipe and calling me 'Dear Boy!'

At least this should keep him out of mischief for a couple of weeks, maybe longer!

Bonfire Night!

Wilson is in the kitchen finishing up his Pumpkin Soup With Ants and home-made Ant Croutons after what he is calling 'The Best Bonfire Night Ever!'

Wilson builds his bonfire

Wilson came home yesterday with a lot of wood for his Firework Night Bonfire — more than I expected. 

Much, MUCH more than I expected. 

Still, he's stacked it neatly in the garden, so I suppose it's alright. 

I just hope he doesn't make his bonfire too big, what with the FBU strikes…

Bonfire Night preparations

The house seems very quiet now that Byron has gone home. I enjoyed having him here, and I think it was good for Wilson… but I can begin to see why their mother, Mrs Vermilingua, gets through so much Gin!

Anyway, the house is quieter still at present as Wilson has gone out to gather wood for his Fireworks Night bonfire. 

Byron goes home

This morning I drove Byron and his suitcase full of Trick-or-Treat goodies back to the zoo. 

As he climbed into the car he said, 'Thank you very much for having me, Wilson's New Dad.' Oh, he's so polite!

I'm sure he enjoyed his time here, but I think he was beginning to miss his mum, Mrs Vermilingua, and all his brothers and sisters. 

After we'd left Byron at the zoo with his family, Wilson was very quiet on the journey home. Now that we're back, though, his thoughts have turned to: Bonfire Night!

Wilson and Byron divide up their booty...

Now that Hallowe'en finally over, Wilson and Byron divided up their booty. 

They gave a few sweets each to Polly-B, Antony and Tiny Toy and put some aside for the sTone Brothers. Then Wilson said that, apart from a few of his favourites, Byron could have the rest to take home and share with his many siblings.

I thought that was a kind gesture. Moreover, it will avoid last year's embarrassing incident when Wilson tried to sell his Hallowe'en plunder back to the neighbours from whom he'd got them!

I wonder whether I should give the zoo dentist a call to warn him of what's on its way?

Photographs of the lovely WILSON are by Tamanduagirl at 

http://www.livingwithanteaters.com/ and are used by kind permission.

Trick or Treat!

Wilson spent yesterday evening telling Halloween ghost stories to Byron. When bedtime came, they were both so scared that they had to sleep in my bed. You can probably guess how much sleep any of us got.

Anyway, here they both are ready to go Trick-or-Treating in the neighbourhood. I shall accompany them just to see that they don't get up to mischief or into trouble, but Wilson has given me strict instructions to keep out of sight, saying 'We're not babies, New Dad! Well, Byron is, obviously, but I'm six years old!' 

Waiting for Halloween...

Now that Wilson's Hallowe'en preparations are complete, he spent today sorting through his socks while Byron amused himself playing with Antony and Tiny Toy. 

I think they're both just trying to pass the time until tomorrow.

W has promised to tell Byron some ghost stories later, to get him in the Hallowe'en mood. 

I hope they're not too scary — I don't want to have nightmares.

Pumpkin Soup - the secret recipe

The boys have been in the kitchen for most of the day making pumpkin soup from the carved-out insides of their prize-winning pumpkins. 

Wilson says that it's his Secret Recipe, but as far as I can see it's just all the old favourites boiled up together: Ant Gin, Ants, Onion, Chillies and Stock all stirred into a Pumpkin base. Not forgetting an Ant Garnish, of course!

They're planning to eat it when they return from Trick-or-Treating on Thursday, to warm them up.

I think Wilson is expecting Byron to do the washing-up. 

Sibling Rivalry

This morning the time came for me to judge the Best Carved Pumpkin competition. Both boys carried their entries into the garden, set them down on the lawn and looked at me expectantly.

I had been dreading this moment, as someone was certain to be disappointed. However, as the two entries had been carved in such contrasting styles I decided to award two prizes — one for the Cutest Pumpkin, one for the Scariest. 

Everyone seemed satisfied, although Wilson complained that there should have been an additional prize for the Largest Pumpkin, while Byron argued for a Smallest Pumpkin prize, and another prize for the pumpkin carved by the youngest competitor. 

Sibling rivalry is a terrible thing.