With Hallowe'en and Guy Fawkes Night safely over, Wilson has finally found time in his busy schedule to evaluate the hole in the ceiling for me.
He insisted that this inspection had to be carried out from inside the loft and, while I'm not saying he enlarged the hole by sticking his head through it, there is quite a lot of plaster on the floor beneath it… and it does look a lot bigger than I remember.
The appraisal got off to a bad start when Uncle Zoltan announced that not only was he an expert on bonfire building, he also has unmatched knowledge of holes in ceilings. Which he insisted on imparting.
He had been holding forth pompously on the existential nature of ceiling holes for several minutes (while Wilson made Herculean efforts not to yawn) when suddenly his hat fell off.
W tried very hard not to laugh… but totally failed. He fell about giggling hysterically and Uncle Z flew off muttering to himself about 'children today' and their 'lack of respect for their elders. And betters.'
As it happens, though, when Wilson came down he told me he had 'the very perfect thing' to effect a repair — but it was in his Museum and he didn't have time to get it right now as he was extremely busy.
Well, the hole's been there for quite a while; I don't suppose a few more days will hurt…
Last night's Bonfire Night Celebrations passed off safely and without incident.
Unless you count a small scorch to Wilson's mouth when he didn't let a toasted marshmallow cool sufficiently before eating it.
'OW!' he exclaimed, 'Toasted Marshmallows are like Napalm if you don't let them cool down enough! I think these must have been made by DOW Chemical…'
There was no visible damage, and following emergency first-aid treatment (application of chilled Ant Gin and making a fuss of him) he soon forgot all about it.
When I was a boy, Bonfire Night was one of the BIG nights of the year — right up there with Xmas and your own Birthday — but of course, Hallmark hadn't yet invented Hallowe'en. Nowadays Guy Fawkes is celebrated much less, which is probably a good thing.
When Wilson first came to live with me we'd have fireworks in the back garden; last year we went to an organised display; this year he says he'd like just a big bonfire so the whole family can attend. With loads of Marshmallows.
I suspect he'll want loads of Ant Gin too, but fire and gin seems to me like a dangerous combination.
He's in the garden now, discussing Bonfire Construction and making certain that no hedgehogs are hiding under the wood. This is turning out to be quite a heated debate because Uncle Zoltan has declared himself to be a world authority on the art and craft of Bonfire Building, whereas Wilson just wants to pile the wood up and set fire to it…
Diesel the Goldfish is out there too, not because he likes bonfires (he doesn't — he worries that his water will overheat) but because he's hoping for a drop of rain. He loves a drop of rain.
As Wilson's re-telling of our voyage round the lighthouse continued, it got more and more exciting!
Actually it got SO thrilling that there were parts I didn't remember at all — our boat sinking, for a start. Perhaps I'm suffering from 'selective amnesia' or PTSD.
Come to that, I don't even recall the bit where our boat was attacked by a giant sea-horse (though it looks more like a swimming donkey in W's diorama — but he's never seen a real sea-horse) or being rescued by the life-boat, or even the incident where armed paramedics were lowered from a helicopter!
Still, it's Wilson telling the story, and if that's how he remembers it…
Everyone is really enjoying this tale of nautical bravery, with the possible exception of the sTone Brothers. They keep interrupting with muffled questions, eg, 'Is something happening?' 'Is there anybody there?' and, 'Can someone take these bandages off? Hello?'
I'm very excited to announce that Wilson now has 2000 Twitter Followers, and they're all real (which is to say, he hasn't bought any of them)!
Why not head over to Twitter and follow the lovely Wilson yourself? You might love it!
@WVermilingua
Wilson has made a model of The Needles Lighthouse out of a toilet-roll tube and a Dairylea cheese spread box, and constructed a diorama of The Needles on the dining room table.
He had hoped to use one of the sTone brothers as The Rocks, but neither of them was keen on the idea so he's brought in a big (and quite muddy) stone from the garden.
All the family is now gathered round while W describes his boat trip to the lighthouse round the treacherous Needles Rocks, listening spellbound as he relates his intrepid adventures on the voyage.
Actually I think he's embellishing the truth a tiny bit, but he WAS very brave to venture onto the boat at all, and naturally wants to emphasise his fearless audacity on the water.
Hello everyone, we are The Bees, Polly and Billi, and this is our Guest Blog!
Wilson showed us something in the New Scientist magazine that said flowers were now producing caffeine so that bees get addicted to it — that way the bees take less honey, but still pollinate the flowers because they're after their hit of Java!*
But we think that is a lot of nonsense — we get all the caffeine we need from the 17 or so cups we drink every day!
Anyway, what with Hallowe'en and the fact that we've been waggle-dancing non-stop we haven't had any sleep for about four days, so we're off now.
As soon as we've had another quad espresso each.
We'll see you next month — until then, Beeeeeeeeeeeee good!
*Current Biology, DOI: 10.1016/jcub2015.08.052
Margaret Couvillon, University of Sussex
New Scientist, 24 October 2015, p16
At long last dusk began to fall, and Wilson assembled his Warriors of Darkness ready to Trick-or-Treat the neighbourhood into submission.
The event was not without it's problems however, and a full dress rehearsal might have been wise…
• Tiny Toy's hat was WAY too big and completely enveloped him; Antony cut a couple of eye-holes in it and gave him a little torch, and TT was mollified. Somewhat…
• The sTone Brothers couldn't see where they were going… and in any case couldn't actually go anywhere as they were COMPLETELY cocooned in bandages…
• Uncle Zoltan was initially upset that he didn't have a costume but, bizarrely, was quite pleased when everyone said he was quite scary enough without one…
• Diesel's little witches' hat kept falling off and floating to the top of his bowl…
• And everyone (except the Bees) was terrified of Wilson's Vampire Fangs!
They're just heading off now — I shall follow them (inconspicuously) to make sure they don't get into any trouble.
Happy Hallowe'en, everyone!
With only one day left until Hallowe'en, Wilson is in the living room with the boys making final adjustments to his little Hallowe'en Wagon.
Antony and TT are testing the trolley seating for comfort while the Johnson Brothers are in charge of 'Sellotape Dispensating' (J.Maj) and trying to get an old torch from the Museum going again (J.Min).
Wilson has stuck a diorama scene to the side of the wagon, and he thinks if J.Min. can mend the torch to illuminate it, that would increase the 'Terrifyingness Quotient' no end.
Earlier today W asked me whether I thought he should alert the village Hospital A&E Department, in case his visits to the locals caused an epidemic of fainting. Or worse.
I told him I thought it might be best if he didn't…
To support Wilson's stated aim of making this The Best Hallowe'en Uckfield's Ever Seen, Polly and Billi have agreed to participate as well as the children.
They're in the kitchen ordering Hallowe'en Costumes for themselves and their little family — W is helping because the bees have never used PayPal before, and he wants to be certain they don't get scammed.
The costumes being considered are Top Secret… although I have heard the phrase 'Sexy Nurses' whispered once or twice. Also a lot of giggling…
Wilson has been out to his Museum [ie the Garden Shed] and pulled out his little cart.
He says he might need TWO carts this year — one to transport the Hallowe'en Revellers and another to carry all his booty home! He says that he will call this second cart his PlunderWagon!
He's out there now, sticking tiny skulls to the sides...
Wilson arrived at Tesco only to find the pumpkins sealed off behind what he later described as Zombie HazMat Tape, marked 'Caution: Zombie Zone' and 'Haunted: Keep Out.'
Ever circumspect, he found a member of staff and asked her to remove his chosen pumpkins for him. Actually, he asked her to carry them to the checkout for him as well, but she assured him that once the pumpkins were in his shopping trolley they were fully de-zombified and no longer dangerous.
When he arrived home, I had some bad news for him: the insurance company, in spite of my having Fully Comprehensive Cover on the house and its contents, had refused to pay me for the damage caused by the wasps!
I thought this was an outrage, but a little research on Google revealed that it is the standard practice of that Nest of Weasels we call the Insurance Industry — they will pay to have vermin removed, but will not pay for the damage they have caused.
Looks as though I shall be reliant of Wilson to fix the hole in the ceiling after all…
When Wilson rose this morning (a little later than usual because the clocks went back to Winter Time last night) as soon as he'd had his breakfast he ran upstairs to examine the hole in the ceiling. I was a bit unnerved to see that he'd taken his Club Hammer with him.
'Don't worry about this, New Dad!' he told me cheerfully, poking the hole with the hurty end of his hammer, 'I can have this fixed in a jiffy!'
I replied that I'd REALLY rather go down the House Insurance route first, before 'putting him to the trouble' [ie risking the whole ceiling coming down] of effecting a repair himself.
'If you're sure then,' he replied. 'I haven't got time to do it now, anyway — I must go into the village to buy some pumpkins.'
He climbed down the ladder and I helped him off the chest of drawers on which it was balanced precariously.
Once he was safely back on the floor he confided to me, 'This is going to be the BEST Hallowe'en Uckfield's EVER seen!'
While he went down to Tesco, I telephoned the Insurance Company to make a claim for the damage.
It was late by the time we arrived home and everyone had gone to bed except for Polly and Billi. Oh, and Diesel the Goldfish, but he was at least half asleep.
Wilson immediately examined the newly-equipped and -decorated kitchen and announced that it was broadly to his satisfaction, although he'd have to make a few adjustments. Obviously.
He handed the bees what remained of his seaside rock, telling them not to share it with the others because of the risk of diabetes.
Then he gave an immense and protracted yawn before asking for an update on what had happened while we were away. While he was being filled in his eyelids began to droop… and he fell asleep… standing up. I've never seen anyone do that before!
I carried him gently to the tumble dryer and popped him in for the night — there'll be plenty of time for him to catch up on what he's missed in the coming days…
On our last day on the Isle of Wight we drove round the island looking briefly at all the beauty spots we hadn't had time to visit previously, then headed on to Cowes ('Cowes you cannot milk!' as Wilson reminded me) and boarded the ferry back to the mainland.
As we were leaving, another ferry passed us going the other way, and W remarked sadly that he wished we were just arriving instead of departing.
I tried to cheer him up by reminding him of all the exciting things he could do back in Uckfield:
• The new Card Game he's invented,
• The new Kitchen to see,
• Telling everyone else about his holiday,
• Halloween,
• Fireworks Night,
• Xmas…
'Okay, New Dad,' he interrupted me — fortunately, as by then I'd suggested everything I could think of — 'Let's get going!'
We dined once more at a waterfront eatery.
Antony and TT were well overexcited, as it was some time since they'd eaten out at a restaurant, but Wilson had only to threaten them with the 'Brown Paper Bag Of Tranquility' for them to settle down.
W ordered for them — he wanted to be certain they had something he would enjoy finishing up for them, as they have quite small appetites (or, to put it another way, they are slow eaters…)
Tomorrow we shall attempt a lightning tour of the island's beauty spots before catching the ferry back to the mainland. I need to get home to sort out the hole in the ceiling, and everyone else wants to start preparing for Halloween.
Before we left the Mill, since Antony and Tiny Toy don't often get out Wilson thought it would be good to have a souvenir group photograph of everyone.
'Everyone' not including me, obviously — somebody has to press the shutter, after all!
He'd thought it would be funny if everyone leaned to one side, so it looked as though they were in a strong wind — but nobody could agree on which way to lean…
One of the exhibits in the museum was a collection of old-fashioned gas-stoves, and Wilson became dewy-eyed standing by one of them.
'This,' he said, 'is exactly like the stove my Mum, Mrs Vermilingua, had when I was a little cub!' He twiddled the Gas Regulo knob as he gazed into his past…
'In an oven just like this, she'd produce enormous Ant Lasagnes and Rock Buns for the whole family,' he reflected dreamily.
'No-one,' he continued, 'no-one in the whole world could burn the bottom out of a saucepan like Mrs V…'
Part of the Museum was devoted to WW2, and the entrance was mocked up with sandbags and a sign announcing: 'Keep Clear: Unexploded Bomb!'
It took me a few minutes, and the help of one of the Museum Guides, to convince Wilson that this was just pretend — there wasn't really an unexploded bomb.
Once he was convinced of this, he donned a Tin Helmet and entered into the spirit of things, examining all the exhibits with interest.
I'm pretty sure, though, that WW2 is confused in his mind with the Great Ant Wars of 1921 in which his ancestor 'The Blue Baron' was a distinguished fighter pilot…
After leaving the Mill buildings we were heading to the Museum when Wilson darted off down a little passageway.
He was initially attracted by the telescope which, as it was pointing at the ground, he'd assumed was for observing ants, but as he drew closer he noticed the massive structure on the right — the thing that looks like a rusty, disused furnace.
Turns out it is one of the original casings from the Black Knight Rockets, built and tested on the Isle of Wight in the 1950s when Britain was still part of the 'Space Race'.
W had a good look inside, in case there were any old space-suits left lying around, or perhaps some 'Space Food.'
He told me later that it was very dark in there, but as far as he could tell, it was 'Empty. As dark and empty as Deep, Deep Space…'
Wilson seemed lost in thought as we proceeded into the next room of the mill.
'Actually,' he announced, 'a hundred years ago I might have been a Rich (but beneficent) Mill Owner instead of a Poor Worker. My credentials would have been perfect!'
'Credentials?' I asked, 'You know a lot about milling? Or cotton? Or flour?'
'I am ambitious!' he replied, 'I am VERY ambitious!'
He broke off the conversation while he attempted to stop Antony and TT climbing on the machinery — it felt a lot like watching myself trying to stop HIM climbing over the exhibits at the Rochester Naval Dockyards Museum a year or so ago…
Once the children had been apprehended and given a warning, we headed outside to the Museum area, and Wilson told me a joke.
'Okay, New Dad, the Past, the Present and the Future all walked into a bar.' He paused. 'It was… tense!'
His shoulders shook in silent laughter.
