As arranged, I met young Byron at the Bus Station, drove him home and escorted him through the garden to Wilson’s 'Asteroid Shelter.'
After a few minutes of shouting and stamping on the ground, Wilson’s head emerged, blinking in the daylight.
‘Has it crashed yet?’ he asked, ‘Did it miss us? The Wi-Fi signal isn’t very good down here…’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Byron replied. ‘I didn’t come all this way to sit in a wet hole in the ground – I came to help you develop… well…’ he touched one claw to the side of his nose, ‘You-Know-What! The Secret Project!’
‘But what about Tiangong-1 crashing on Uckfield and killing everyone?’ W protested.
Nërp interrupted, saying, ’The Tiangong-1 Space Station’s orbit does not even pass over Uckfield. It does not even pass over most of Europe. I have calculated the chances of it landing anywhere in Sussex as…’ – he made a brief whirring sound, not unlike wheels spinning – ‘Zero. The Space Station will NOT kill you here. Probabilities for other locations may vary.’
Reluctantly, Wilson climbed out of his Shelter, dusted the soil, mud and a few surprised worms from his fur and followed Byron and Nërp into the house.
Somehow, despite my best efforts, Wilson has learned that Tiangong-1 – the 8½ tonne Chinese Space Station – is due to crash into the Earth at 17,000 mph this weekend.
Consequently he has grabbed Antony and Tiny Toy and retired to his Asteroid Shelter for Easter.
He asked whether he could have his Easter Eggs early, since I would ‘probably’ be dead by Sunday, and so unable to give them to him.
I promised him that I WOULD still be alive and well on Sunday, and would give him his eggs then.
He countered my assurance by telling me that, as a practicing Pastafarian, he was entitled to his Easter Eggs early, due to some unlikely edict by the Flying Spaghetti Monster.
Not wishing to be accused of Religious Discrimination, I allowed him one Cadbury’s Creme Egg.
His final message to me was to ask me to meet Byron at the Bus Station, bring him home and escort him to the Asteroid Shelter where they would ride out the End Of The World together, while sharing a Creme Egg.
I promised I would carry out his wishes… and passed him another Creme Egg – for Byron.
I’d hoped to go out today, but Wilson said ‘someone’ (he stared pointedly at me as he said this) would have to stay at home to sign for a delivery he’s expecting from Amazon, while he goes out to finish some graffiti project he’s in the middle of.
Before he left he asked whether his half-brother Byron could come to stay over Easter.
Byron, or ‘Biro’ as W calls him, is no trouble at all, and I hope having him here will distract Wilson from his graffiti obsession – he’ll run out of walls soon.
Anyway, I’ve agreed that little Byron is welcome to stay as long as his mother, Mrs Vermilingua, agrees.
Here, at last, is the piece of work that Wilson has been talking about for so long: a tribute to his musical hero, Mr Leonard Cohen!
(Please don’t touch it – he only finished it last night, and some of the paint is still a little bit wet.)
He says that if anyone would like to buy a print of this piece – or even own the original by buying the actual wall* – they are welcome to make him an offer at the usual address.
__________________
* Dismantling and delivery not included
This is the first day of British Summer Time [Daylight Saving] and I had expected Wilson to spend most of the day changing the clocks – putting some of them forward an hour, some back an hour, forgetting which ones he’d already done etc and generally wreaking levels Temporal Chaos normally only experienced in the TARDIS during a re-boot.
Some of you, however, will remember his invention of a clock that doesn’t need adjusting: The Mk2 Winter And Summer Timekeeping Equipment or ‘WASTE’ clock.
Today he showed me something he’s been working on in secret – the Mk2 WASTE Clock ‘Mister Juicy Special Edition,’ in memory of his late friend and collaborator, Mr Juicy The Talking Orange, and proceeded to mount it on the wall…
___
Oh, W has just reminded me to mention the Leonard Cohen Wall which he hopes to unveil tomorrow – he says he’s expecting it to cause ‘a bit of a stir’ in both street art and musical circles.
I hope that’s in a good way…
Wilson tells me that enigmatic graffiti artist Antsy (and I have to say that the evidence is now overwhelming that this is actually Wilson’s nom d’art) is entering an AgitProp phase, of which this piece, Laugh Now, is the first example…
Tomorrow being the first day of British Summer Time [Daylight Saving] the Blog Post may be a bit later than usual, as Wilson will spend most of the day putting all the clocks Forward an hour. Or Back an hour. Or both, if past experience is anything to go by…
However by Monday he has promised to have his Special Treat for 🎶Leonard Cohen🎶 Lovers completely finished, even if the paint isn’t completely dry…
Today Wilson showed me a new work by Antsy, which he says is a homage to Banksy’s famous ’Balloon Girl (There Is Always Hope)’.
A DATE FOR YOUR DIARY:
Also, he asked me to mention that he’s got ‘Something a bit special’ planned for fans of Mr Leonard Cohen, and you should try to keep next Monday free.
Not only was yesterday World Happiness Day, it was also the Spring Equinox.
Until yesterday, Wilson was unaware that the Spring Equinox was even a thing, and was pretty annoyed that no-one (I think he means me) had mentioned it to him.
‘This is a MAJOR missed opportunity, New Dad!’ he complained, ‘A rare chance for me to grab an occasion that hasn’t already had the joy (and profit) squeezed out of it by the Hallmark Card Company! I could have really cleaned up with my exclusive range of Spring Equinox Cards!’
I tried to console him by explaining that there would be another Equinox in only six months – the Autumn Equinox.
‘Are you MAD, New Dad?’ he exclaimed, ‘People want to celebrate Spring, growth, warmth, sunshine and blue skies – the coming of Summer; who in their right mind would want to celebrate the Autumn Equinox, harbinger of cold, rain, storms, miserableness and Winter?’
All in all, considering it was World Happiness Day, Wilson was not noticeably happier than on any other day… in fact he was arguably even a tad less happy.
Today, however, is WORLD ODD SOCKS DAY – let’s hope for increased sales of his “ODDSIES!” ™®© [patent pending] pre-unmatched Odd Socks, available from all good ladies’ and gentlemen’s outfitters.
Allegedly.
I was just taking our Recycling round to the bins when I came upon another piece of what Wilson calls ’Street Art’.
I’ve not noticed any in the rest of Uckfield, so perhaps this ‘Antsy’ is targeting our house.
If so, it’s probably because Wilson lives here – he is the only anteater in the village, so appreciates graffiti featuring ants more than most…
Also, the more I look at this piece, the more I like it – I’m beginning to think it’s not at all bad!
When I asked Wilson if he and Nërp would mind washing off the graffiti, he tried to dissuade me.
‘Let’s not be too hasty – I’d strongly advise you to keep it, New Dad!’ he told me. ’Street Art is a Big Thing now. Just look at Banksy – people will pay thousands to buy a wall with one of his pictures on!’
‘There’s only one Banksy!’ I replied. ‘I can’t see this ever being worth anything…’
‘You’d be surprised!’ he said. ‘I’ve been reading about this “Antsy” dude, and he’s very well respected in the Art World – he’s One To Watch. I really think you should leave that fence alone…’
________
Oh! You don’t suppose that this ‘Antsy’ character could be… well… Wilson?
Sometimes I think I’m just a bit too close to him to see things clearly…
I was taking a turn round the garden this morning when, just by the Coal Bunker, I noticed some graffiti had been sprayed on the fence!
Honestly, you have to keep on top of this kind of thing – nip it in the bud – so I’ve put out a bucket of soapy water and I’ll ask Wilson if he’d mind washing it off later.
He can have Nërp to help him, if he likes…
On another occasion, to escape the pandemonium at home, Wilson and his brother Byron took all the children out to play in the snow.
While the younger ones snowballed and built snowmen, W and ‘Biro’ had a deep discussion, and apparently hatched a brilliant scheme to be put into action when Byron comes to visit in the Summer.
I’m happy they’ve got something to look forward to, but filled with foreboding at what their idea might be…
While Wilson was complaining about the unremitting awfulness of his stay at the zoo, Uncle Z walked in.
Glancing at the photo he remarked, ‘Looks like you had a lovely holiday with your family… while I was trying to survive in my unheated hive! I had to melt snow in my oven just to have my morning wash and to make tea! You youngsters, you don’t know you’re born…’
Ignoring him, I said, ’I’m sorry you had such a horrible time, Wilson, but it was unavoidable!’
‘I know,’ he replied, ‘and it wasn’t totally awful – not all the time, anyway – Biro and me did go out and build some wicked snowmen!’
He handed me another photograph.
Wilson passed me another photograph, a snowy woodland scene.
‘This,’ he remarked resentfully, ‘is my souvenir of the Worst National Ant Day Ever! It was freezing cold, there weren’t any ants, and I didn’t win!’
This must have been a bitter blow to Wilson, who has been crowned Ant King of Uckfield every year since he came to live with me in 2011.
‘Oh dear!’ I said, solicitously, ‘So who did win?’
‘One of my many ½-brothers – Sydney Arthur Vermilingua – found the first ant of 2018 and was crowned Ant King.’ he replied. ‘But I suspect cheating – I’m almost certain he had an ant concealed in his ear!’
I shook my head and made sympathetic noises…
‘Obviously I had an ant concealed in my ear too, but I didn’t produce it quickly enough! I have become complacent, New Dad!’ he continued. ‘Living here in comparative luxury with you has made me soft! Weakened my competitive spirit! I must Anteater-Up and regain my Edge!’
Wilson shovelled a spoonful of cornflakes into his mouth then passed a photograph to me.
‘This’, he explained, ‘Is my Mum, Mrs Vermilingua’s Living Room. It is full of children squabbling and quarrelling over toys – I couldn’t hear myself think!
I nodded sympathetically.
‘The fire is so smokey that sometimes it makes your eyes water and you can’t see across the room.
I nodded sympathetically.
‘The Black and White 12-inch television has only one channel, and you can’t see anything for the static.
I nodded sympathetically.
‘The Wi-Fi has been cut off because the Warthogs were operating some kind of Internet Investment Scam.’
I nodded sympathetically.
‘How can I be expected to live like that? Eh? In the Summer I can go outside to play, but this was the middle of Winter – I was a Prisoner!’
He paused to sprinkle more ants on his cornflakes, then passed me another photo…
Wilson had a bit of a lie-in this morning, but when he came in to breakfast I had forgotten to remove the eye-patch I have to wear overnight.
W saw it and laughed, telling me, ‘New Dad – you remind me of that Captain on TV… oh, what’s his name?’
‘Captain Jack Sparrow?’ I suggested, hopefully. ‘Captain Jean-Luc Picard maybe?’
‘I’ve got it!’ he exclaimed: ‘Captain Mainwearing – you know, the pompous old bloke out of Dads’ Army!’
Chuckling to himself, he then produced a bulging wallet of photographs, removing them one by one to show to me, illustrating his unsatisfactory sojourn at the zoo…
I’ve just been down to the Bus Station to meet Wilson.
His bus was quite late arriving, due to an ‘incident’ involving his lunch.
After the bus had been travelling for half an hour or so, W began to feel a bit peckish and unwrapped the lunch bag his Mum, Mrs Vermilingua, had given him for the journey.
Whether the ants were excited by being on a bus for the first time, or whether they’d been out of the fridge for too long is not clear, but the outcome is that they escaped and before Wilson could stop them, invaded the bus.
‘The other passengers made a terrible fuss about it’ he scoffed. ‘Just because ants were climbing up everyone’s legs and biting them – they’re only ants, after all!’
These ‘over-sensitive’ passengers made the driver stop the bus until the infestation was cleared up, thus causing the delay.
’Anyway, while denying all knowledge of the ants, I offered to clear them up – I ate them all as fast as I could, and saved the day! Actually, people thought I was a bit of a hero, what with being on hand to fearlessly rescue everyone!’
As you know, Wilson has been staying with his family at the zoo while I recover from my eye operation.
I’ve just received an SMS from him saying that the constant noise and quarrelling there is driving him up the wall, and asking whether he can he come home yet?
I still can’t see well enough to drive, so I’ve told him he will have to travel by bus – his brother Byron has done that before, and can tell him what to do, explain Public Transport Etiquette etc.
I shall be very pleased to see him again, but I do hope he doesn’t try to ‘speed’ my recovery by insisting on applying Ant Poultices to my eye!
important message:
following an operation on wilson's new dad's eye, he regrets that for the time being he is unable to see to use his computer to post to this blog.
wilson is staying with his mum, mrs vermilingua, at the zoo while his new dad is poorly.
sadly, this probably means that there won't even be a bees' blog on 1st march...
yours very sincerely,
polly 🐝 and billi 🐝 the bees.
XX
ps: get well soon, wilson's new dad!
pps: sorry there aren't any capital letters, but we can't work the shift key because it's a bit stiff.
Once the Truffle Prospectors had arrived at Boothland Woods, Wilson looked round, inspected the ground for a moment and declared that the very place where they were standing was a ‘prime spot’ for Truffles.
Lifting Dave out of the bucket, he placed him on the ground and instructed him to ‘get sniffing!’
Poor Dave shuffled around disconsolately for a few minutes before saying, ‘I don’t think this is a very truffly spot after all. Can we go home now?’
Wilson is not a quitter – at least, not when there’s money to be made – so he turned to Nërp and said, ‘Okay, it’s time for Plan B – turn on your Olfactory Tech and we’ll make a start!’
Nërp at first pretended not to have heard, but once that gambit became clearly untenable he confessed that, due to an oversight at the factory, his Olfactory Analysis Module had not been installed.
On hearing this, W came very close to losing his temper, pointing out to Nërp that this was only the latest of a long series of non-installed modules.
‘Well excuse me for not being C3-PO or HAL5000… or Johnny-5... or perhaps you’d have preferred Wall-E?’ Nërp replied, huffily.
He certainly seems to have had his Brooding, Overthinking and Sulking Modules installed!
When everyone got home, they were all in a bit of a bad mood. Wilson grumbled that he will have to start a Truffle Farm, due to the difficulty of locating and harvesting Wild Truffles.
He stomped off to Google ‘Truffle Seeds’ while Nërp and Dave stood in silence, staring at the ground uncomfortably…
