Framed!

Having chosen some knitting wool, Wilson moved on to the frame shop to buy something to display the portrait his artist friend, Sally Muir, drew of him. 

I'm still wondering what W is going to knit for Baby William. 

I bet it's a scarf!

Freestyle knitting

The lady in the wool shop helped Wilson select some suitable colours, but he declined her offer to help him choose a knitting pattern. 

He told her that he'd seen the baby, so he knows what size he is, and he'd rather make it up as he goes along. 

'I'm more of a FreeStyle Knitter than a pattern follower!' he explained. 

The assistant was very impressed, I think! 

Of course, she hasn't known W as long as I have…

Shopping trip

Wilson has popped into the village to buy a frame for his lovely portrait and also some wool so he can knit a little something for Baby William. 

Draw me like one of your French girls!

Something a bit special has happened — one of Wilson's Twitter friends, Sally Muir (@salmuirAdogaday) is an artist, and she's sent W a portrait of himself!

He keeps gazing at it, admiring its pared-down strength of line and elegance of form, and in particular the way she's captured his eyes and his jawline. 

Actually, he keeps saying that Mr Pablo Picasso himself couldn't have done a better job of capturing what he describes as his 'quintessence'.

Tomorrow he intends going in to the village to choose a frame for it. 

I don't blame him, for this is a thing of real beauty!

Popular Problems

I haven't been able to get much sense out of Wilson since his copy of Leonard Cohen's new album, Popular Problems, arrived. He popped in his earbuds and has barely spoken since, although I can make out a very soft, mostly tuneless humming coming from him.

During one brief spell while he was searching for his iPad's charging lead, I asked him what the new record was like. He answered in a deeper, more gravelly voice than usual: 

'Brief and full of surprises. Much like life…'

Wilson has something on his mind...

Today I found Wilson wandering round a distinctly autumnal garden in a very listless and reflective way. This is rarely a good sign, so I asked him what was going on in his head. 

'Oh, I'm just thinking about Baby William,' he replied, 'and life… and things…'

'You're not thinking of starting a babysitting service are you?' I enquired, 'Or opening a crèche?'

'CAN I?' he asked, his eyes lighting up.

'Totally, absolutely not!' I told him, using my stern voice to suggest, vainly, that I would brook to argument. 

'Well,' he continued, 'I was also thinking how nice it would be to have a holiday!'

'Another holiday?' I exclaimed, 'We only got home from our last holiday a fortnight ago!'

'Yes, but the weather's still quite nice and we could just fit one in before Xmas...'

Parenting is harder than it looks

Wilson tried to give baby William a short lesson in ant-catching, but eventually conceded that he probably wasn't old enough yet. Despite not having caught any ants, William had got quite muddy, so Jenny suggested perhaps it was time to go home.

Back at Jen's house Wilson had a glass of squash and a biscuit then played happily with William's toys, before finally falling fast asleep on the floor, hand-in-paw with the baby. Sweet!

Before we left he handed Jen a small jar of ants, saying 'It's just a little something for the baby, Miss Jenny!'

On the drive home, W confided that being a parent looked much harder than he'd expected — he'd previously thought his Mum, Mrs Vermilingua, just made heavy weather of it!

'I would like a cub of my own one day though,' he added, 'Once I meet the right lady.'