Wilson received a letter today from his friend Dennis on the Isle of Wight, declining his invitation to the Wildlife Petting Zoo and Anteater Experience.
W's disappointment was tempered by his excitement at hearing from Dennis again, and the fact that he appears to have his own electric typewriter for his correspondence — this seems to Wilson to be impossibly retro and grand!
He soon put his disappointment behind him, and he's gone out with Byron to put up some of his posters round the village.
He also asked me to send you a copy of the poster in case you'd like to print it out and stick it up around YOUR village — although for the life of me, I can't imagine why you would!
With the exception of the sTone Brothers, I think everyone is in the dining room 'helping' Wilson and Byron design the poster for the imminent Wildlife Petting Zoo and Anteater Experience.
I've learned in the past that, when it comes to Graphic Design, everyone thinks they're an expert!
Uncle Zoltan is especially generous with his counsel, having once had a nest in a print shop — although by his own admission, that was in the days of hot metal printing!
Wilson is doing very well in holding his tongue in the face of so much unasked-for advice.
This may be because he's relying on everyone to assist in the running of the Petting Zoo event, so he can't afford to hurt anyone's feelings with a harsh word...
Wilson has written to Dennis, the Giant Anteater he met on the Isle of Wight, inviting him over to stay for the duration of Uckfield Wildlife Petting Zoo and Anteater Experience.
He says that Dennis could sleep in the tumble dryer, as there's really not room for three in the washing machine, and in any case an anteater of Dennis' eminence should never be expected to share.
Once he'd posted the letter he asked me into the garden so he could show Byron how to work the Polaroid camera on the Photo Opportunity Board.
To encourage me to smile, Tiny Toy stood in front of the board telling me jokes, such as, 'Um, what's made of brass and sounds like Tom Jones? A Trumpet! Oh, no... wait a minute — a Trombone!'
It may have been only a test shoot, but I was still expected to pay the full price! The photo isn't too bad, I suppose; only half my head is cut off.
Wilson explained this was just a 'teething problem' until Byron learned to stop the camera going off unexpectedly.
But he didn't offer me a refund.
I don't know how much sleep either of the boys got last night — they went to bed (in the washing machine — the tumble dryer isn't really large enough to accommodate two) quite early but I could hear them whispering and giggling for most of the night as they formulated plans for the Uckfield Wildlife Petting Zoo and Anteater Experience.
To make matters worse, every hour or so Wilson would pop up to my room, stick his nose right in my ear and whisper loudly, 'New Dad! Are you awake?'
Once I'd been shocked into full wakefulness, he'd ask, 'Did I wake you? Well never mind, because we've just thought of...' and he'd tell me the newest money-making attraction for the Petting Zoo he and Byron had just thought up.
No sooner had I fallen back into a troubled sleep he'd be back, to regale me with another idea.
This was made even more difficult as, once it had passed midnight, all his ideas were expressed in Piratese, what with it being International Talk Like a Pirate Day...
Last night Wilson outlined his 'Primo New Idea' which is to supersede his failed Tomato Farm: The Uckfield Wildlife Petting Zoo and Anteater Experience.
This will apparently involve opening the garden to the public, who will be exposed to a number of Wild Animals and other money-relieving attractions.
I voiced some serious concerns about having wild animals in the garden, but W dismissed them out of hand saying that I was altogether too timorous where his money-making schemes were concerned.
Anyway, he and Byron are in the garden today — Byron is posing while Wilson paints his full-length portrait on a big piece of board.
I don't really know what it's for, but he's making a pretty good job of it, and it's keeping them both out of mischief, so really, apart from a bit of paint on the grass, what's the harm?
What's the worst that could happen?
______________
Wilson has asked me to remind you all that tomorrow is International Talk Like a Pirate Day — you might want to keep your Pirate Translation App handy!
I was just enjoying my morning coffee when there was a timid knock at the kitchen door.
Nothing happened, so I called out 'Come in!' and Byron entered the room.
Without meeting my eye (I think he's still a bit shy around me) he announced, in a very quiet voice, 'Excuse me, Mr Wilson's New Dad, but Wilson would like to show you something in the dining room.'
I followed him in, and saw Wilson holding a can of beer in one paw and a can of lemonade in the other, while a strange, bifurcated drinking straw emerged from his mouth.
Removing the straw, he exclaimed, 'Look what Byron and me have just invented — it's a straw that makes shandy while you drink it!'
I had to admit it was... novel.
'What's it called?' I asked.
'Well, we were going to call it the Shandy Straw, but then we thought of naming it the Sandie Shaw — in a kind of Spoonerismistic homage to the gamine and barefoot 60s chanteuse and Eurovision winner of the same name!'
'It's like Rhyming Slang!' Byron added, growing bolder.
Wilson suddenly laid an arm round Byron's shoulders and shouted, 'What a team — we are UNSTOPPABLE!'
This morning Wilson and I drove over to the Zoo to collect W's half-brother Kenneth Byron Eustace Vermilingua.
When we arrived, Byron was already waiting on the pavement with his luggage, engrossed in a book about Tomato Cultivation.
Wilson jumped out of the car and the two boys embraced. Briefly, and in a very 'manly' way, obviously.
While I loaded Byron's cases into the boot of the car, Wilson glanced at the Tomato Cultivation books and remarked, 'Tomatoes are yesterday's news — I'd see if you can get a refund on these books. My new idea is WAY more exciting and fun! I can't wait to tell you all about it, but my New Dad doesn't know about it yet, so I'll explain when we get home!'
As we drove back to Uckfield, both boys sat together on the back seat — and there was a lot of whispering and giggling going on.
Unfortunately I couldn't make out a word of what they were saying, so I guess I'll just have to wait and see what they've got planned.
And hope for the best...
As soon as the disembarking passengers had... well... disembarked, we shuffled forward and boarded the i360 Pod.
Wilson was very impressed.
'It's ENORMOUS in here, New Dad! It looks as big as Uckfield High Street but without the shops and cars — AND it's got a Bar!'
He ran excitedly round the Pod a couple of times, then stared upward through the glass ceiling, where the central pillar extended 500ft above us into the sky, remarking, 'Well, that's VERY high, isn't it? And we're going right to the top! Where's the Emergency Handle to stop it?'
Once he'd established that the Bar did not stock Ant Gin he settled for a glass of champagne — to settle his nerves — and the pod began to rise majestically.
So gentle was our ascent that as we started there was no sensation of movement — until Wilson shouted 'WE'RE GOING UP!' and gripped tightly on the the handrail with both paws.
I'm sure he'll love this experience — as long as no-one mentions that it's broken down three times in the last five days...
Clutching his Boarding Pass firmly in his paw, Wilson queued with me to pass through the pre-boarding Security Check.
'It looks like a Flying Saucer on a Stick, New Dad,' he remarked while we waited, 'or a ginormous huge silver doughnut!'
After a moment he continued, 'Did you know it goes even higher that that balloon I went up on in Bournemouth? I hope it doesn't sway about as much as that did — for a little while, I thought I was going to fall out of the basket!'
He chatters like this when he's nervous, but I'm sure he'll be okay once we're inside the Pod.
Check back on Wednesday to see how our flight goes...
A trip on the i360 Viewing Platform lasts for about 20 minutes, plus it takes a few minutes to board, so since the gondola was at the top of its mast we had a little wait before our turn.
We spent this time walking on the beach, in the i360 Gift Shop and eating ice lollies.
I hope Wilson's careful with that lolly, or it's going to land on someone's head.
Actually, if he leans much further over that barrier, HE will land on someone's head...
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 fiancée (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...
