Oddsies! A boon for the fashion-conscious gentleman!

Having grown exasperated waiting for me to dress in the mornings, Wilson has invented something of real value! He is calling his invention 'Oddsies!' 

What he proposes is that he makes it fashionable to wear non-matching socks by marketing packs of odd socks, or 'Oddsies!', thus saving the fashionable gentleman up to 10 minutes every day searching for matching or closely-similar socks. 

I objected that this was just wearing odd socks, but Wilson smiled and said, 'That's the beauty of the idea! You won't be wearing just odd socks, you'll be wearing Oddsies! You'll be wearing Oddsies! by Wilson Vermilingua! I will create a need, then I will fulfil that need. That is how fashion works!'

Perhaps he will, after all, be a millionaire before he is seven… he certainly has the inventive, entrepreneurial instinct!

My heart sinks...

Wilson and I went to the Garden Centre today to buy some ivy to grow over the folly. On our way to the plants we  passed the statuary area, and I saw the worst thing I have ever seen: a display of sTony's Friends and Relations. What a motley bunch of troublemakers they look! 

My heart sank when Wilson saw them, but he is still pretty cross about sTony's refusal to write a reference for him when he applied to be General Manager of Stonehenge… so he decided not to buy any of them. 

Result! I am SO relieved! Now home to plant the ivy!

Demolition in progress

Today is warm and sunny, and Wilson, as good as his word, is in the garden working on his Folly. He has reduced its height significantly and I think it is much less overpowering now. He did admit to me that it had turned out quite a lot bigger than he'd expected. 

He says that if we pop out to the Garden Centre later he'll buy some ivy to train up the walls, and then the Folly's 'picturesqueification' will be complete.

I raise a difficult subject...

Despite minor concerns about his body image, Wilson has framed and hung his likeness on the dining room wall, right next to Diesel's portrait. He is very proud!

So, taking advantage of his good mood, I raised a topic that has been troubling me for some time: The Folly. When he first proposed building a folly in the garden, I imagined a small, picturesque ruin; what he has built is more like a complete castle. I asked him whether he'd consider making it a bit less overwhelming, a little more… quaint. 

He took this request surprisingly well, saying he'd get round to it as soon as the weather improved. I hope he's not just humouring me...

Fan Art!

There was much excitement when the postman called today — he brought 'fan mail' for Wilson! W tore open the envelope and inside there was a drawing of him. 'It's Fan Art!' he exclaimed. 'It's brilliant! I shall frame it and hang it on the wall, next to the photograph of Diesel the Goldfish!'

About an hour later he showed me the drawing again, and asked whether I thought it made him look stout? 

'Is that how people see me?' he asked. 'I've always imagined that I looked slimmer and more athletic.'

International Space Station

One of Wilson's friends told him that the International Space Station would be passing overhead last night, so after a day's keen anticipation we went out into the garden to observe it. 

The ISS was very bright and easy to see, but Wilson refused to believe that it was a space station. 

'I've seen space ships on tv' he told me, 'and they're way bigger than that! That's just a dot in the sky. What's supposed to be living on it — Russian and American ants?'

Suddenly he burst out laughing. 'They must be Antstronauts!' he spluttered.

When he went to bed he wrote in his diary, 'Saw shooting star. Made wish. Also made v. good joke about ants.'

A disturbed night...

What a night! Wilson watched Dr Who last night, and it seemed to press all his 'fear' buttons — he was terrified… but still adamant about watching. He sat on my lap, with his paws over his eyes most of the time, whimpering. Then he refused to to sleep in the tumble dryer, claiming that it was haunted, and insisted on sleeping with me. 

This morning, though, he seems fully recovered, waking me at the crack of dawn to ask whether I fancied moving to Wiltshire. He has heard that there is a vacancy for General Manager at Stonehenge with a salary of £60k, and he thinks that, what with his experience of managing sTony, he would be ideally suited to the post.

Now he's in the kitchen trying to persuade sTony to write a reference for him. 

I think that could take some time…