I let both boys stay up late last night to watch the Big Brother Live Eviction show.
They were both very satisfied to see Georgina leave — Byron said that her 'negative energy' was enough to bring anyone down. Wilson nodded in agreement, adding, 'And her cake was a catastrophe!'
However, at long last it's time for Byron to return to his family in the zoo. I think he'll be pleased to see his Mum, Mrs Vermilingua, again.
The packing having been done days ago, it didn't take long to load the car, then Byron waved goodbye to everyone before we set off.
When we arrived at the zoo he climbed out of the car, said, 'ThankyouverymuchforhavingmeMisterDawes!' and ran inside.
He's a lovely boy, and I shall be happy to see him when he visits again to help Wilson run the PYO Tomato Farm...
Hi, we're The Bees, and this is our Guest Blog!
Some of our blogs in the past have been pretty heavy — about poisons and bees dying out and so on — but today we've got something funny to show you!
It's a film about an anteater trying to steal food from some ducks... and falling in the water! We think it's really funny, and whenever we watch it we can't stop laughing...
http://tinyurl.com/h2hxtjv
Actually, we're just going to watch it again — if Billi can remember how to work out the 'tension loop' on the projector — so why don't you watch it now with us?
However, we don't think Wilson would see the funny side — particularly given how much he hates water — so not a word to him, okay?
Tomorrow Wilson's half-brother Byron will be going back to his family at the zoo. We shall miss him, because he was a nice boy — very polite and well-mannered. Just like our own dear boys, Johnson Major and Johnson Minor!
Anyway, we've been The Bees and we'll see you again next month.
Until then, BEEEEEEEEEE GOOD!
Early this morning Byron pulled out his suitcase and, with Wilson's help, started packing his things ready for his return to the zoo.
W has given Byron a basket of green tomatoes as a gift for his Mum, Mrs Vermilingua. There was a lot of debate about whether they should spray-paint them red, but I think good sense prevailed. Surprisingly.
I shall drive him home on Friday so he's there in time for the weekend, and I expect we'll stay at the zoo with his family for most of the day.
Then as soon as we get home, W says he has 'much planning and preparation' to do for my birthday next week.
If he's baking a cake, I hope it won't have too many ants in it.
And if he's planning the correct number of candles, I'd better warn the village Fire Brigade to be on standby...
Wilson confided to me this morning that Byron is starting to get a bit homesick and is missing his Mum, Mrs Vermilingua.
I've spoken with B and agreed to take him home to the zoo and his family in time for the weekend.
In the meantime, both boys are in the garden preparing direction signs and so on for the P-Y-O Tomato Farm — when it eventually opens, Byron will come back for a few days to help Wilson run it.
And presumably take a share in the profits.
If there are any profits...
Over breakfast, I reassured Wilson that neither he (being half Costa Rican) nor I (half Canadian) would face deportation now that the UK has left the European Union.
Also that the operation of his P-Y-O Tomato Farm was unlikely to be disrupted... though I thought his application for an EU Farm Subsidy was now most unlikely to be successful.
I had promised Wilson that we'd go on holiday when he returned from his stay at the zoo, and once we were alone he asked whether Byron could accompany us. Regrettably I had to refuse, because it's already difficult finding hotels that will allow even one non-human guest, let alone two.
However, I have promised that when the Tomato Farm finally opens for business, Byron can come back to help with its operation — as long as his Mum, Mrs Vermilingua, approves.
Wilson and Byron burst into my room shortly after dawn, in a state of great agitation.
Between them they explained that W's tomatoes were growing 'all wrong' and they feared they were growing the 'wrong kind' of tomatoes.
I pulled on my dressing gown and they took me out to show me the plants, which now have a number of baby green tomatoes on them.
I said they looked like they were coming on well and told them they had both done a good job caring for them.
In unison, two sad voices objected that they are 'Tiny. And green!' 'We wanted big, red ones,' Wilson explained. 'Not ones that look like green peas!'
Following a night of intense electrical storms and torrential rainfall, I'm feeling pretty tired this morning.
It wasn't the storm itself that kept me awake, rather it was the two nervous anteaters who insisted on cowering in my bed 'for safety'!
I've been thinking about the Fathers Day card I got on Sunday, and how Byron signed it as well as Wilson.
Byron's a lovely lad, but I hope I haven't adopted him too — it's all I can do to cope with Wilson!
I expect Byron was just being polite.
Uncle Z has just strolled over to remark, 'The nights are drawing in... it'll soon be Xmas. I hope you all get me something better than last year!'
Towards the end of the day I went up to see how the boys were getting on at the Tomato Stall.
Wilson consulted briefly with his Sales Manager Tiny Toy, then reported that sales had been 'disappointing.'
'So how many tomatoes did you sell?' I enquired. There was a further consultation with TT before Byron admitted they had sold 'Less than one.'
'None!' Wilson confirmed.
After all their hard work I felt really sorry for them, so I said I would buy all their stock.
'So, three tomatoes at 75p each, that's £2.25,' I said, handing over a £5 note.
Wilson sighed and shook his head, before explaining to me, in the manner of one addressing a simpleton, that I didn't understand the laws of Supply and Demand: The first tomato was 75p, but once that was sold it increased the scarcity of tomatoes so the remaining two would cost £1 each... except that once there was only one tomato left there would be an even greater scarcity surcharge meaning that one would cost £2.
I raised my eyebrows in disbelief, but said only, 'So three tomatoes are going to cost me £3.75?'
Everyone nodded in agreement, but Wilson added that since he didn't have any change he was willing to round the price up to £5!
If this boy isn't a millionaire soon, I shall be astonished...
Today may be the Summer Solstice, but the weather is still miserable with heavy cloud cover and a steady drizzle of rain.
Undaunted by this, Wilson and Byron set up their Roadside Tomato Emporium early this morning, laid out their tomatoes and waited for the customers to pour in.
They haven't had any actual customers yet — a few of our neighbours have called by to say hello and generally encourage them — but nobody has actually bought anything.
Wilson blames the inclement weather for his lack of sales, but I'm more inclined to think it's his prices: 75p (~US$1) for a single tomato seems pretty steep to me, but Wilson explained that overheads are notoriously high in what he calls 'The Tomato Game'...
Today being Fathers' Day, Wilson has given me a home-made Fathers' Day Card, signed by both him and Byron, and a shop-bought tomato.
He said that I shouldn't eat the tomato until Tuesday, as he'd need to borrow it back tomorrow for 'display purposes' — whatever that means.
Both boys have been rooting round in Wilson's "Museum" (garden shed) looking for an old fold-up Gazebo that Wilson is certain was once one of his exhibits.
Byron is very impressed by the Museum, although understandably anxious about The Robot — which is now described as the "Killer Robot [decommissioned] [probably]."
The Gazebo is apparently an essential constituent of the Tomato Farm Shop which they plan to open on Monday.
I'm not looking forward to that — please drop by tomorrow to give me some moral support in case I have to put my foot down.
Or if you want to buy some tomatoes, I suppose...
Wilson is afraid that by the time his tomatoes are ripe and ready to pick, and his PYO Tomato Farm can finally open for business, Byron will have gone back to the zoo.
Consequently, he has decided to outsource his tomato supplies until his own crop is ready.
Both the boys have popped in to Tesco in the village, together with their Retail Buying Manager Antony, to choose some tomatoes.
I don't mind saying, I have reservations about this.
Grave reservations...
The weather has been very disappointing for June — we're all getting a dose of 'cabin fever' — so I took the boys out for a drive in the countryside today.
Suddenly Wilson shouted, 'Stop! New Dad, stop the car!'
He had spotted a roadside stall selling fresh fruit, so I asked whether he or Byron would like a mango or a pineapple or something.
'Yes, yes, okay...' W muttered, so I parked in the lay-by opposite the stall, hopped out and bought them some apples and nectarines and a mango each.
When I returned they were both whispering conspiratorially to each other...
Early this morning a van pulled up outside the house to deliver Wilson's eBay purchases — several second-hand A-boards.
The boys are in the garden now, repainting them so they can be used for Wilson's Pick-Your-Own Tomato Farm, when he finally gets some tomatoes.
Actually, Wilson is doing most of the painting, while Byron is drawing anteaters on the blank ones and generally trying not to get in W's way (ie not get covered in white paint!)...
Both boys got a totally blootered on Ant Gin at Saturday's Street Party for the Queen's 90th Birthday.
Byron, being a bit of a stranger to overindulgence and the hangover, is still sleeping it off, but Wilson is gradually recovering his equilibrium and right now he's in the living room buying something on eBay.
I wouldn't have thought a hangover was the ideal companion to eBay — I hope he doesn't make any rash purchases... on my VISA card.
Following the Street Party yesterday, Wilson and Byron are both still sound asleep.
Last night they were both so tired [drunk] that they didn't even make it as far as the tumble dryer, falling fast asleep on the living room floor.
I covered them up with a duvet and left them to sleep it off, but I bet they've both got hangovers when they wake up.
As will the Bees, who got VERY overexcited yesterday! They blamed Wilson's gin, saying they were only used to drinking mead...
Today is HM The Queen's Official 90th Birthday, and the day of Street Parties up and down the country. Probably.
Wilson was up much of the night making more fairy cakes as he and Byron had eaten all those he baked yesterday.
However, by a happy coincidence today is also National Gin Day, and he has plentiful supplies of that.
I understand the Queen is partial to a gin or two (certainly her late sister and mother both were) so it's an entirely appropriate tipple for the party.
W told me that after a couple of Gin Cocktails no one would notice the lack of food, but I popped into Waitrose in the village and bought some extra snacks anyway — I don't want the little ones drinking too much with nothing to soak it up.
Also Diesel the Goldfish is a bit of an unknown quantity once there's gin in his water...
What with all the unpleasantness and disappointment surrounding his OBE, Wilson is not a great Royalist... but he is also not one to willingly pass up the chance of a party!
Therefore he has put aside his differences with the Royal Family and is now preparing to hold a Street Party tomorrow, the Queen's Official 90th Birthday.
He's busy in the kitchen with the Bees, cooking some red, white and blue Fairy Cakes... while trying to balance his Chef's Hat on his head!
I let Wilson and Byron stay up late last night to watch the launch of the new series of Big Brother.
Byron said he'd never seen anything like it in his entire life, and humanity has gone down in his estimation!
Anyway, they both had a bit of a lie-in this morning, but after breakfast they popped into the village to collect their leaflets from the Printer and started handing them out to the tomato-eating public.
I just hope W's publicity doesn't peak too soon — so far he hasn't actually got ANY tomatoes, and I think it will be some weeks before his crop is ripe and ready to pick...
Wilson and Byron are working on the iMac, designing a flyer and business card for the PYO Tomato Farm.
Apart from a minor disagreement about fonts (resolved by them both sticking their tongues out as far as they would go) they're playing together nicely.
There has been no further mention of tongue-extending exercises nor of 'stretching devices' and I am certainly not about to raise the subject!
While settling an argument by means of a 'Who's Got The Longest Tongue' ant eating competition in the garden, I overheard Byron remark that, even for a human, I appeared to have an unusually short tongue.
Well really — I can confidently state for the record that I've never had any complaints!
So I was shocked when Wilson replied that he had been worried about it for some time, though he hadn't liked to mention it to me for fear of hurting my feelings.
Byron suggested that I might benefit from some tongue-stretching exercises.
W agreed, and said that if they didn't work, he would devise some kind of tongue stretching apparatus for me to wear at night.
I REALLY don't like the sound of this!
