Wilson is a bit disappointed that his half-brother Byron can't come to stay with us until next week, so to cheer him up I've taken him into Brighton to visit the BA i360 — the biggest moving observation deck in the world.
(Not a word to W about how it got stuck halfway up for two hours last week — he's a nervous traveller at the best of times!)
The i360 is impossible to ignore — at 500ft high, it's the first thing you see on the seafront — but Wilson was initially much more interested in something at ground level: a zebra playing a Yamaha organ!
There was a sign next to him saying that he was saving to pay for his wedding.
W was very impressed, saying that he would probably try that when he'd finally proposed to Ms Caroline Catz and fixed a date for his wedding.
Once I'd explained that the 'zebra' was actually a man in a zebra suit (which Wilson at first refused to believe) he grew even more excited, as it had apparently given him a 'Totes Boss Idea!'
Wilson was busy on his iMac planning things for his New Idea That's Even Better Than A Tomato Farm when an email arrived from his half-brother Byron.
In it B explained that he was right up for helping with the New Idea, but he couldn't come to stay until the weekend after this one — apparently a load of his friends at the Zoo are having birthday parties, and he doesn't want to miss any of them.
I never mind Byron coming to stay with us because he's very polite and well behaved, and he's good company for Wilson — he helps him keep in touch with his anteater roots.
Wilson was a bit miffed by the delay as he really wants to progress his New Idea, so I might plan a nice surprise for him to help pass the time...
Wilson has been watching DCI Banks on Sky+ — that's the DCI Banks that co-stars his fiancĂ©e (ie current crush) Ms Caroline Catz.
In
this series she plays DI Helen Morton, Major Crimes Deputy SIO, and as
such her character is quite a lot sterner than in her role as nurturing
primary school teacher in Doc Martin.
This has rather
confused Wilson, who told me that 'Joining the Police and becoming a
Police Officer has changed her — she's very stern now and behaves more
like Ms Anne Hegerty off The Chase... although of course she's still v. beautiful.'
I'm pretty sure he STILL hasn't grasped the concept of 'acting'.
While investigating Ms Catz, however, he has learned that not only was she once singer in the bands Monoland and Sapphire, and made guest appearances with the Jesus and Mary Chain, but she also goes surfing in Cornwall!
With
his history of songwriting and surfing, this has served only to
convince W that their anticipated liaison and eventual marriage is
'Predestined'...
Everything is not QUITE as bleak as it seemed yesterday — the Bees did manage to salvage what tomatoes they could, although I'd be surprised if three tomatoes is enough to warrant a Pick Your Own Tomatoes event.
Especially as they've already been picked.
But Wilson has a very positive, can-do attitude to life, and this morning he went out in the garden to open the massive crate which everyone has been referring to as The Obelisk.
There has been much speculation as to its contents, but I don't think anyone expected to see a huge coin-operated weighing machine.
'It was for the Pick Your Own Tomato Farm,' W explained. 'Customers would be weighed as they came in and again as they left, just to make sure they hadn't illicitly eaten any tomatoes while they were here. I shall have to think of something else to do with it now, 'cos I hired it for the rest of the summer.'
Later I heard Wilson phoning his half-brother Byron to invite him over. He said that due to 'unforeseen circumstances' his plans had changed, but he'd had an even better idea, and would definitely need Byron's help with it.
Wilson related his disappointing experience when he'd failed to officially open the High Street. Everyone was very solicitous, especially the Bees.
Once he had been sufficiently reassured and cheered up he took Dave, his guard-piglet, out into the garden to show him the Tomato Farm and explain his guarding duties to him. A moment later I heard an anguished cry: 'Aaaaaaagh!'
Both Bees looked nervously at each other.
Wilson staggered into the room, supporting himself with the door frame, and proclaimed, 'My Tomato Farm is no more. It is... dead! Expired! Departed! It is an EX Tomato Farm!'
The Bees looked guilty and nudged each other for a moment, and eventually Billi said, 'We're very sorry — VERY sorry, actually — but that is our fault. We forgot to water it.'
Polly explained, 'We were so busy with our Party in the Lavender that we completely forgot!'
Billy added, 'I'm not going to lie, we were drunk. WELL blootered. We'd had a LOT of mead. But we ARE sorry. Contrite. Remorseful. Compunctious. Asham...'
Wilson cut her off. 'Well, accidents will happen — and alcohol was involved, which explains much.'
The Bees hung their heads.
Wilson continued, 'Of course, I shall have to change my plans for the Pick-Your-Own-Tomatoes event. But on the other hand... is there any mead left?'
The Bees ran off to the kitchen and I heard liquid being poured.
W flopped into an armchair, sighed and held out his paw as the Bees returned with a pint glass filled to the brim with honey-coloured hooch.
Dave entered the room and asked plaintively whether, now that his job had effectively disappeared, this meant he'd have to go back to the shop...
First thing this morning Wilson received a special Express Delivery from Amazon.
It contained some balloons, a big drum of red ribbon and a pair of giant 'ceremonial scissors.'
After coffee we loaded them into the car and drove into the village, where the High Street was due to be re-opened after months of roadworks. It took us a little while to park, as today is also Uckfield Carnival Day so the village was extra busy.
We arrived a few minutes before noon, and Wilson carried all his stuff over to the corner at the bottom of the High Street. When he looked around, his face fell.
'The road's already open!' he exclaimed, 'And I haven't DECLARED it open yet!'
Cars were speeding up and down the High Street, so there was little chance of stretching his red ribbon across it, let alone standing in the middle to cut it!
I asked him, 'Who invited you to open the road?'
'Well, no-one actually INVITED me,' he replied. 'it's just that I am Uckfield's most famous resident, I'm a friend of the ex-mayor, I have the Freedom of Uckfield and I'm a Road Safety Campaigner — I just, well, I just assumed...'
I asked him if he'd like to go on to see the Carnival or visit the Fun Fair, but he said he wasn't really in the mood any more.
We loaded the stuff back into the car and drove home...
I don't know why, but since we returned home The Bees have been quite evasive. I think it's something to do with Wilson.
He hasn't noticed the change in their behaviour yet, however, as first thing this morning he told me he was going into the village to 'stake out the High Street'.
I've only ever heard the expression 'Stakeout' in TV crime dramas, where it means something like 'case the joint for a burglary' so I was concerned W might be considering a life of crime. He allayed my fears, however, by explaining that it is a term used by Surveyors when they're measuring a building site.
When he got to the High Street he started crossing the road in a big, exaggerated stride — almost goose-stepping — and counting his paces aloud.
When he reached the far side he'd record the number of paces on his clip-board, turn round and repeat the process.
As usual, I've no idea what's going on — but I do know I probably won't approve...
Hello, we are The Bees, Polly and Billi, and this is our Guest Blog!
Today we had hoped to show you all the many photos we took at our Party In The Lavender last month (to be fair, they were mostly Selfies) but instead we are the bearers of Bad News.
Very Bad News.
News so bad that we don't know how to break it to Wilson.
It's alright at the moment since he's preoccupied trying to manoeuvre his 'Obelisk' thing in through the gate, but as soon as that's done, he will notice something dear to his heart is not quite as it should be.
On the plus side, once he DOES notice, we won't have to break the news to him... but it's hard not feeling a TINY bit guilty, what with it being slightly* our fault.
Anyway, we've been the bees and we'll see you next month. Until then, BEEEEEEE GOOD!
_____________
*entirely our fault
As soon as we drove into our road I realised that there had been a delivery left on the front drive, meaning I wouldn't be able to park the car there.
I glanced across at Wilson and asked him, 'Any idea what that is? I'm guessing it's yours!'
Climbing out of the car we all inspected it curiously from a safe distance — all except little Antony, who declared in a wavering voice:
'Good News, everyone, I know what this is!'
He approached the box slowly, extended one forepaw and cautiously touched it... then jumped as though he'd received an electric shock.
He stood motionless with his eyes closed for a full minute while everyone waited expectantly, before finally announcing:
'It is as I suspected. It is the Obelisk from 2001 A Space Odyssey. I have now absorbed all the knowledge of the universe, and small plush toys will shortly develop a mission into Deep Space! Deep, Deep Space...'
Wilson snorted and shook his head despairingly, but Antony continued, 'In future, you may address me as Bowman. Dr Bowman.'
This morning we went down to what Wilson is calling, rather dolorously, The Last Breakfast (he was raised a Catholic in Costa Rica, which I suppose explains quite a lot).
While we were all waiting for out breakfasts to be served, W explained some of the difficulties in having a piglet called 'Piglet' — he's principally worried that he might be sued by The Estate of AA Milne and Christopher Robin, and possibly even the Walt Disney Corporation, if he doesn't think of an alternative name soon.
I replied that some of his friends have been sending in suggestions, one of which was Percy.
'Percy Pig?' Wilson raised his eyebrows. 'Bit of a cliché, isn't it?'
I've decided to keep the mooted name of Porky to myself, for everyone's sake, so I continued, 'Another suggestion was Peregrine!'
At this, W puffed out his cheeks and made a sort of 'Poof' sound, while the pig rolled his eyes.
Wilson closed down further discussion by saying, 'Well, I'm sure something suitable and appropriate will occur to me soon...'
Indeed, by the time we'd all finished our breakfasts and we were preparing to leave the table, Wilson called out, 'Come on Antony. Tiny Toy. Dave. It's time to go...'
Not long afterwards we were back in the car, bound for Uckfield once more...
We spent our final evening in Newquay (or Nookey as Wilson still insists on calling it) sitting on a bench on the cliffs opposite our hotel, gazing out thoughtfully towards the horizon as the sun set.
'It's been a good holiday, New Dad,' W observed wistfully, 'and I've had a lovely time. I'm sorry I didn't get to propose to my fiancĂ©e — or even meet her, come to that — but I've enjoyed making new surfing friends, and I've got Piglet to guard my tomatoes...'
Traditionally this is the time when W pleads to stay a few more days, but this time, to my surprise, that didn't happen. Instead, he continued:
'I'd love to spend a bit longer in Nookey, but sadly I must return to Uckfield — I have many responsibilities there, and duties to perform.'
Before heading back for a pre-bedtime drink in the bar he asked me to take a photograph of both our shadows on the cliff top park, to help him remember this poignant moment.
As I pressed the shutter he waved his paw in the air and shouted, 'Good Night Nookey — thank you for a lovely holiday!' before we walked slowly, paw-in-hand, back to the bar...
We retrieved the car from King Arthur's Pay-'N'-Display Car Park and set off for our hotel in Newquay.
Throughout the journey Wilson constantly criticised both King Arthur's and Merlin's living arrangements.
'How poor Queen Guinevere coped with living in that ruin I can't begin to imagine! I'm only surprised she didn't leave HRH Arthur and take up with somebody with a bit more ambition!' and so on. I have to admit I rather tuned out.
He was in the middle of a tirade against Merlin for not helping out more when suddenly he stopped, mid-sentence, shouting, 'Stop the Car! New Dad, Stop The Car!'
I'm quite used to this by now, so instead of performing an Emergency Stop in the middle of the road I drew into a parking bay.
Wilson jumped out of the car and ran into a toy shop we'd just passed, calling back to me that he had to buy a souvenir of the holiday.
By the time I'd locked the car and followed him inside, he was trying to decide between many cute animals — monkeys, giraffes, hedgehogs and hippos — when he spied a rack of piglets.
'This little guy,' he announced as he took one off the shelf, 'is EXACTLY who I need to guard my Tomato Farm back in Uckfield!'
Coinage was exchanged with the shopkeeper and the piglet, currently called 'Piglet' was proudly carried back to the car.
To the annoyance of some of the other passengers, Wilson had to wrestle his surf board into the Land Rover for the trip down to King Arthur's Castle and Merlin's Cave.
Once we arrived, to their further annoyance, he had to wrestle it out again.
It was a surprisingly tight fit, and you'd be amazed what a fuss some people make when they're poked round the head with a surf board...
We stood for a long time without speaking, taking in the beauty of this wild and rugged spot and listening to the cries of the wheeling seabirds and the roar of the surf breaking on the rocks below us and soaking in the atmosphere of this magical and elemental place.
At length, Wilson spoke: 'I'm a bit disappointed that King Arthur lived in a ruin,' he announced, 'and very surprised that his magician, Merlin, lived in a cave with its floor underwater!'
I raised my eyebrows and tried to maintain a neutral expression.
He continued, 'If Merlin was such a Red-Hot, Tip Top Magician, I'd have thought he could magic himself up somewhere a bit grander to live than a wet cave. Somewhere with a dry floor, for a start. And a door. I bet Paul Daniels' house is WAY better than this!'
We drove in through the main road into Tintagel and parked in King Arthur's Pay-'n'-Display Car Park (Max Stay 4 hrs).
Strolling towards the centre of the village we passed King Arthur's Hair Salon, King Arthur's Café, King Arthur's Launderette and King Arthur's Toy Shop (selling King Arthur's Teddy Bears).
Wilson remarked that King Arthur seemed to have this town pretty much sewn up — even tighter than Prince Charles, who actually owns all of Cornwall!
However, the main objective of our visit was to see King Arthur's Castle and Merlin's Cave, and we soon located a Shuttle Service that would transport us down the very steep hill to the castle.
Hopefully back up again, too!
________
PS: Wilson says "Hi!" to his new readers in Russia! Добро пожаловать! 🇷🇺
Wilson spent a long time in the junk shop; a LONG time.
As I waited outside with Antony and little TT, guarding W's surf board, it felt as though he'd been inside for several hours, but when I checked my watch it turned out he'd only been inside for several hours.
Finally he emerged, without having bought anything.
He explained that he thought he'd found an Etch-A-Sketch once owned by the Dutch artist Mondrian — when he looked closely he could apparently make out a lot of pale rectangles 'Exactly like Mr Piet used to draw' — but he was unwilling to risk a whole £1 on it.
While W had been in the shop the sun had come out and the sky turned blue, so I suggested we move on to Tintagel, putative home of King Arthur and Merlin, his magician.
Wilson applied some Factor 50 to the end of his snout and we set off back to the car.
In a tiny lane leading away from the quayside in Mevagissey, Wilson spotted a shop he couldn't resist.
He is magnetically drawn to seductive places such as this, imagining he will find a lost Picasso sketch or misidentified Ming Dynasty ashtray, or even just a complete Clarice Cliff tea service, then get rich and famous on Flog It or Dickinson's Real Deal by selling it for £1M, and so keeping the promise he once rashly made to his Mum, Mrs Vermilingua.
Daytime TV has much to answer for.
Anyway, he ducked inside to have a good look round, leaving me outside holding Antony and TT, and guarding his surf board.
As he left he admonished me, 'Don't let anyone buy my "stick" New Dad — not unless you can snag a REALLY good price!'
As we strolled through the beautiful little village of Mevagissey we came across a shop called The Bee Hive.
Unfortunately it was closed so Wilson was unable to buy a gift for the bees, Polly and Billi, but as the next-best thing he insisted on having his photograph taken standing in front of it.
He says he will give them a copy of the photo as it is, after all, the thought that counts.
And he thought they'd like a photo of him.
As we were leaving the village, we came across a 'Living Statue'.
Wilson has encountered these before, in London's busy Covent Garden, but in this deserted street he was, as he later described it to me, 'Totes creeped out!'
He stood rooted to the spot until I tossed a few coins into the statue's bucket, when we made our excuses and left.
As we walked back to the car I took his paw, and I could feel him trembling...
Today is not quite as sunny. In fact it's raining, but not hard enough to dampen our spirits — for we are British Holidaymakers, well used to Augusts that feel like February!
Of course, Wilson has Dual Nationality, and his Costa Rican half is yearning for sunshine, while Antony and TT (nationality unknown) are both safely in the dry of my pocket.
On our way to Mevagissey we stopped off at the enchanting little fishing port of Fowey, as Wilson needed to stock up on ice cream and chocolate.
Sadly, we're not seeing the village at its best because of the drizzle, but also the weather has kept some of the less hardy tourists away, so it's not too crowded.
The climate is very variable on the Cornish Peninsula, and it may yet be sunny in Mevagissey by the time we arrive — we shall have to see...
By the time we arrived at the centre of the village Wilson, although still downcast, had cheered up a little.
I suggested we head into the 'Port Wen Café' for some coffee and cake... and ice-cream... and an Ant Slushie (that wasn't on the menu, but Wilson always travels equipped with some spare ants), but he was a bit worried about the sign outside reading, 'ALL Doggies Are Very Welcome!' since, as he's mentioned before, dogs seem to have an inherent dislike of anteaters. Or perhaps it's just Wilson.
Whatever, I went on ahead to check out the dog situation, and it turns out there weren't any at the moment, so I called W in — the surf board causing only minor inconvenience and breakages.
I removed Antony and Tiny Toy from my pocket, set them down on the table and we all shared some 'grindage' as W still insists on calling food.
Over our scoff Wilson confessed that, although he was disappointed he hadn't got to meet Ms Caroline, and taken a selfie with her, and proposed marriage, perhaps it was after all for the best.
'Mayhap I'm intended to be a solitary, single Anteater, New Dad.' he said, 'always an Uncle, never a Dad...'
He tried to smile as he said this, but his voice betrayed his emotion.
Anyway, tomorrow we're off to Mevagissy — who could fail to have his spirits lifted by such a prospect?!
