A trip to the village...

Wilson has popped into the village as he 'needs' another picture frame. 

He has asked me, while he's gone, to welcome all his new readers and followers from far-off and exotic countries:

United States, Russia, France, Ukraine, Canada, Germany, Denmark, India and Italy.

Howdy! Здравствулте! Bonjour, Hallo, Ciao, hej med jer, Namasté, Namo namah!

(Any spelling mistakes or mistranslations are mine, not Wilsons!)

He also asked me, rather unfairly I thought, to point out that while passive-agressive Uncle Zoltan is with us, he's not bothering you!

Finally, please don't forget that you can chat with Wilson on Twitter: @WVermilingua 

Party Time!

All the children went back to the hive to help Uncle Zoltan eat his fresh-baked cookies.

Wilson also went to the hive where, being too big to enter, he observed the tea-party through the window to make sure everything was above-board. He's still sure that Uncle Z is going to kidnap the youngsters and hold them prisoner; I admit that Uncle Z has a LOT of problems, but I think W is being paranoid.

Wilson told me later that nothing untoward occurred, and that the cookies looked and smelled delicious. 

'I kept pointing to the cookies then pointing to my open mouth, New Dad,' he said, 'but either no-one saw me or they didn't understand. Nobody brought me out a cookie…'

Party invitation

The Johnson brothers quickly ran home to see whether Antony and Tiny Toy would like to join them in eating the cookies they'd just baked with Uncle Zortan.

Antony and TT were very keen to go, but Wilson still has the strongest reservations about Uncle Z's motives — he's certain that he intends to kidnap the toys and sell them into slavery, or at least imprison them in the hive and make them do his housework.

However, after much pleading, he eventually conceded that Antony and TT could go, on this one occasion, providing that he, Wilson, could keep an eye on the proceedings…

Forced labour

Once the card game was finished all the youngsters wanted to go over to the bee hive to see what was going on. 

The bees told Johnsons Major and Minor that they could go, but Wilson put his foot down saying that he didn't trust Uncle Zoltan, and therefore Antony and Tiny Toy were forbidden to go… which didn't go down very well.

When the Johnsons arrived Uncle Zoltan greeted them and took them off to the kitchen, where they all made cookie dough (and quite a mess!) together.

Once the cookies were in the oven, Uncle Z sent the Johnsons home to see whether anyone else wanted to come and help eat them.

Diesel's Big Day

This morning the whole family assembled in the living room under Wilson's watchful eye to test and play his prototype (and as yet un-named) game. 

Everyone really enjoyed themselves, although Diesel didn't really understand the rules — he had them explained to him several times, but ten seconds later he'd have forgotten not only the rules but also where he was and what was going on. 

In spite of this, I think he had a nice time. 

As far as you can ever really tell with a goldfish.

A communication is received

When I came down to breakfast this morning I found Wilson staring at a note magnetted to the fridge door.

'Help Wanted.' he read aloud to me, shaking his head in dismay. 'Must be Young and Fit. No Pay. Anteaters need not apply. Report to: The Bee Hive. Signed, Uncle Zoltan'

'Have the bees seen this?' I asked.

'Yes. they said we should "humour him",' he replied. 'Really! This is an outrage! Look!' he continued, 'He's even brought his own fridge magnet, like mine aren't good enough for him!'

I stepped closer, the better to see, and read, 'Always say never — it saves so much time!' 

W walked away, shaking his head in disbelief.

Beta testing

Wilson has printed out a set of his playing cards and is now in what he calls 'Beta SandBox mode' of the game's development — testing it for playability and addictiveness with Polly and Billi.  

There's quite a lot of shouting, so I'm guessing there is some disputing of the rules going on, but  there's also a lot of laughter, which has got to be a good sign.

I wonder whether this is the idea which will finally make Wilson a millionaire?

Uncle Zoltan settles in...

While Wilson carried on with his inventing, the bees popped round to see Uncle Zoltan. 

When they returned, they reported that he is settling down nicely in the hive — setting out his ornaments and generally making it a bit more homey.

Wilson does some inventing!

Perhaps in order to take his mind off the recent unpleasantness with Uncle Zoltan, Wilson is starting work on his new card-games — under conditions of the utmost secrecy. 

As everyone knows, Xmas is the top season for families to sit round playing games, but due to having had a lot on his mind W forgot to invent them, so he's hoping that Easter is the second-best time for games.

Even I am not trusted with the details, but W has assured me that these games are 'Totes addictive,' and are guaranteed to be 'sure-fire blockbusters' in the competitive Easter Games market.

And it's not like I've ever received such assurances from him in the past…

Uncle Z's sad story...

Neither Wilson nor I can understand how the bees tolerate Uncle Zoltan's rudeness, and W told them so.

Billi replied that Uncle Z has had a very sad life — tragic, even — and he was unused to the company of other bees. Or indeed of anyone, as he lived completely alone in a big old hive which had fallen into grave disrepair, and now he was getting too old and frail to cope.

Polly explained that when Uncle Z was very young, scarcely more than a pupa, he had been engaged to be married to the Queen Bee… but was jilted at the altar; since then he has lived alone, just Uncle Z and his un-cut wedding cake.

'You simply have to make allowances!' both bees finished, in unison.

The Tour of the Hive Ends Badly...

When they reached one of the smaller rooms in the hive, Billi explained to Uncle Zoltan that, as there weren't any external walls, they'd drawn some pictures of windows and stuck them up, 'To make it look nice and cheerful!'

'It's not very light in here, but we thought it would make a nice study for you!' she continued.

'I have stopped listening,' Uncle Z replied, 'Why haven't you stopped talking?'

'We'll just leave you to get settled in then.' Polly said, with an air of resignation…

Life Inside A Bee Hive

Once inside, Polly and Billi gve Uncle Zoltan a conducted tour of the hive's many rooms; he seemed to find something to criticise in each one, but his hosts remained resolutely cheerful.

Perhaps Wilson got off on the wrong foot with Uncle Z by carrying the huge spray-can of Wasp-Eze, but whatever the reason he wasn't invited in to the hive and remained outside in the garden, pacing up and down, frowning and snorting indignantly. 

After a few minutes he turned to me and said, 'I know he's had a tragic life, but really there's no excuse for rudeness!'

Our guest arrives...

Uncle Zoltan was expected early this morning. When he didn't arrive everyone started to get quite nervous, especially Wilson who has always been uneasy around short-tempered stinging insects. 

When he did finally arrive he gave the bee hive a cursory glance and said, 'It's much smaller than you said. You also told me it had been "recently decorated"!'

Polly and Billi exchanged anxious glances while Wilson closed his eyes and appeared to be counting silently to himself.

'How was your journey, Uncle Zoltan?' Polly asked. 'Were you delayed?'

'Three hours late — badger ate a junction box at New Malden!' he snapped. 'But I'm here now. Isn't anybody going to make me a cup of tea?'

Guess who's coming to dinner?

When Polly asked whether she and Billi could have a word with Wilson in private, he was certain that they wanted to pick his brain about the Blog — editorial style and so on — but that was not the case…

Once they were alone, Billi explained that they needed to have a quiet word with him about Uncle Zoltan. 

'What, Mad Uncle Zoltan?' Wilson asked, apprehensively.

'We don't call him that any more,' Polly admonished, 'We call him "Differently Abled" Uncle Zortan. Or just Uncle Zortan.'

'Anyway,' Billi continued, 'we invited him to come to stay with us over Xmas, but he didn't reply. Now we've just had this letter saying he's on his way and he'll be here soon.'

Wilson grew visibly tense and asked, 'How soon?'

'Tomorrow morning!' Polly replied.

Today, Paris is Capital of the World!

Aujourd'hui, Paris est capital du monde!

The Meeting Drags On...

Wilson repeated his question and Polly said they would like to blog about Bee First-Aid, Bee Current Affairs, Bee Cooking, Bee Child-Rearing and Bee Decorating Tips. W nodded at each topic, writing it down in his note-book.

Looking back, I can't put my finger on why the meeting took so long, but each point was fiercely debated at great length, and it wasn't long before everyone except the main protagonists had drifted away, leaving just Polly, Billi and Wilson. The sTone Brothers and Diesel remained too, but only because there was no-one to carry them out. 

In the end I was volunteered to type the blog (as neither of the bees is very good with capital letters or punctuation) on the 1st day of each month, subject to Wilson's caveat: 'Unless there's something important happening.'

So, the Bees have until 1st February to think of something interesting to say…

Je Suis Charlie

Family Meeting

Do you remember before Xmas when Wilson and I came back from our Winter Holiday and the bees didn't want to relinquish control of this blog? One of Wilson's Twitter friends suggested that perhaps once a month the bees could guest-blog. 

W considered this for a minute, then announced that he was calling a Family Meeting to discuss it. Accordingly, everyone assembled in the kitchen.

He put the proposition to the meeting, and both bees agreed that would be very satisfactory to them.

Then he asked what they intended blogging about, and while Polly considered her answer Billi shouted, 'We're going to campaign for Rights for Bees! We want Shorter Flowers! And More Honey!' before dissolving into a fit of uncontrollable giggling.

Wilson raised his eyebrows and regarded Billi reprovingly. 

This meeting could go on for some time…

Je Suis Charlie

Intellectual Property Rights

'Look at this!' Wilson said, tossing the offending pack of socks onto the table, 'They're even better than my ODDSIES! — they've knitted the words "Odd Socks" into every sock! I never thought of that!'

Apparently he has already spoken to a No-Win, No-Fee Intellectual Property Solicitor and been advised that the new manufacturer is not actually doing anything wrong, because he isn't calling his odd socks ODDSIES! It seems that you can't patent an idea.

W is a bit discouraged. Melancholy even.

We really need to cheer him up…

Je Suis Charlie 

Black Wednesday

Early this morning Wilson popped into the village in search of post-Xmas bargains. 

A few minutes ago I found he had returned and was sitting morosely in the kitchen, clutching a pack of socks.

'What's up, matey?' I asked him brightly.

In reply he held up the socks saying, in a dejected tone, 'Do you see these? These are odd socks. But they are not ODDSIES!'

Closer examination proved this to be true. Some other unscrupulous and unprincipled (Wilson's words) manufacturer is making and selling odd socks — which are undoubtedly Wilson's invention.

Therapy session

Wilson — whom I found wearing a wide grin and a distant look while waving his torch in time to Eat, Sleep, Rave, Repeat playing on his iPad — told me that when he first arrived with his torch he'd heard someone shout, 'Quiet! It's the Fuzz!' followed by an uneasy silence and some giggling.

Then Polly had emerged from the tumble dryer and explained to him that what was going on was in fact not a party but a trauma treatment she and Billi had developed called Rave Therapy, and asked whether he would let them use his torch for a light show.

'Now' he continued 'I'm helping. And joining in, because… well, it would be rude not to. And I can always catch up on my sleep during the day!'

Rave on

Neither Wilson nor I got much sleep last night due to the party going on in the tumble dryer.

About 2am it got too much for Wilson, who stumbled out of bed half asleep, grabbed his Hippo torch and staggered downstairs mumbling that he was going to 'Sort this out once and for all!' 

When he arrived, everything fell silent. I heard a low conversation that I couldn't quite make out, then the music and partying suddenly got louder than ever!

After 30 minutes W still hadn't returned so I went down to see for myself what was happening. 

The first thing I noticed was a flashing light showing under the kitchen door...