Trick or Treat...

Hallowe'en rather crept up on Wilson this year — he'd been so busy with his (doomed) Pud-U-Like business plan that it was only yesterday he realised the event was upon him!

He rushed round to Tesco for a pumpkin and quickly carved it into a helmet. 

By the time he'd finished it was already getting dark, so he scampered out to go Trick-or-Treating, without even stopping for dinner.

'It's alright, New Dad,' he called back to me as he left, 'I'll just eat my Treats as I get them!'

No win, no fee

'We were researching the Pud-U-Like name online, like you said,' Billi gasped out, flushed and breathless, 'and it's already taken! It's being used by a company in Yorkshire!'

'They make Yorkshire Puddings with Exotic Fillings!' Polly added.

Wilson's response was immediate: 'Okay, bees — find me a cheap on-line no-win no-fee solicitor and we'll sue for infringement!'

The bees both looked at me for confirmation, but I shook my head.

W threw up his arms in despair, declaiming, 'This is a calamity!'

I think only a holiday will cheer poor Wilson up now…

Grave news from the bees...

Wilson wants to plough the so-called Winter Holiday Fund into his Pud-U-Like scheme, and is now trying to persuade me to invest an equal amount myself! 

I pointed out that with such a similar name, Spud-U-Like might sue him. 

'Also,' I asked, 'isn't your pudding shop idea pretty much like a cake shop? Or tea rooms?'

'This is a totally different concept,' he replied, 'These wouldn't be cakes, these would be puddings!'

I watched as he scribbled a note in his pad: 'Sell cakes too!'

At this point Polly and Billi rushed in bearing grave news.

Pud-U-Like

While we were driving back from the supermarket this morning, Wilson suddenly shouted for me to stop the car! As soon as I'd done so, he jumped out and stood regarding the local Spud-U-Like franchise, deep in thought.

'Do you want a baked potato?' I asked him. 'We can have spuds here if you like.'

'No no no!' he replied. 'But it's given me a brilliant idea — a total gap in the market!'

As we drove home, he began to expound his plan for a chain of fast-food restaurants called, wait for it, Pud-U-Like. These would cater for people who like dining out, but only like dessert. 

'People like you, New Dad!' he exclaimed, rather unkindly I thought. 'You are exactly Pud-U-Like's dream demographic!'

Spending money

Wilson has returned to the topic of Winter Holidays, asking whether the Canary Islands are out of the question. 'This time, we might see some canaries!' he added, hopefully.

I told him that what with my recent unexpected expenditure on a clock, we just couldn't afford a holiday right now.

'But there's £200 in the Holiday Fund!' he countered.

'£200?' I queried, 'I paid you £300 for that clock — what's happened to the other £100?'

'Spending money' he replied, nonchalantly. 

Whatever, I was pleased to notice a tourist brochure for Bristol — perhaps the Canaries are just an opening gambit. I wonder whether he'd be satisfied with a day in Seaford…

BBC Northern Dance Orchestra

Wilson is in the conservatory playing his Kathryn Tickell CD, and wondering whether it would be suitable as Birthing Music for his friend Ms Rowena's baby. Some of the tracks are mournful and haunting, while others are quite foot-tappy, and he's not sure whether either would be appropriate.

I asked him what his Mum, Mrs Vermilingua, used to listen to when she was giving birth, and he said, 'The BBC Northern Dance Orchestra mostly. Oh and Metallica!'

'She had very catholic taste!' I observed.

'They were the only two records we had when I was little,' he explained, 'the Dance Band and the Thrash Metal.'

I just nodded, but reflected that being born to the sounds of Anthrax probably explained quite a lot about Wilson's family. 

I'm a Winner! But I don't feel like it...

Why couldn't I see this coming? Now I've got TWO clocks — one a birthday present, and one I appear to have bought at auction for the astonishing sum of £300!

Wilson's clock did sell on eBay last night. To me! The bid I placed — at his insistence, simply to pique bidders' interest — was the only bid received so I was, as he put it, 'The lucky winner!' 

W banked my £300 this morning before hanging the clock in the hall next to my almost-identical birthday clock.

He told me not to feel bad about the money as he would donate 'most of it' to our Winter Holiday fund.

I was unaware that we even had a Winter Holiday fund — this is almost certainly the only money in it!