The Meeting Drags On...

Wilson repeated his question and Polly said they would like to blog about Bee First-Aid, Bee Current Affairs, Bee Cooking, Bee Child-Rearing and Bee Decorating Tips. W nodded at each topic, writing it down in his note-book.

Looking back, I can't put my finger on why the meeting took so long, but each point was fiercely debated at great length, and it wasn't long before everyone except the main protagonists had drifted away, leaving just Polly, Billi and Wilson. The sTone Brothers and Diesel remained too, but only because there was no-one to carry them out. 

In the end I was volunteered to type the blog (as neither of the bees is very good with capital letters or punctuation) on the 1st day of each month, subject to Wilson's caveat: 'Unless there's something important happening.'

So, the Bees have until 1st February to think of something interesting to say…

Je Suis Charlie

Family Meeting

Do you remember before Xmas when Wilson and I came back from our Winter Holiday and the bees didn't want to relinquish control of this blog? One of Wilson's Twitter friends suggested that perhaps once a month the bees could guest-blog. 

W considered this for a minute, then announced that he was calling a Family Meeting to discuss it. Accordingly, everyone assembled in the kitchen.

He put the proposition to the meeting, and both bees agreed that would be very satisfactory to them.

Then he asked what they intended blogging about, and while Polly considered her answer Billi shouted, 'We're going to campaign for Rights for Bees! We want Shorter Flowers! And More Honey!' before dissolving into a fit of uncontrollable giggling.

Wilson raised his eyebrows and regarded Billi reprovingly. 

This meeting could go on for some time…

Je Suis Charlie

Intellectual Property Rights

'Look at this!' Wilson said, tossing the offending pack of socks onto the table, 'They're even better than my ODDSIES! — they've knitted the words "Odd Socks" into every sock! I never thought of that!'

Apparently he has already spoken to a No-Win, No-Fee Intellectual Property Solicitor and been advised that the new manufacturer is not actually doing anything wrong, because he isn't calling his odd socks ODDSIES! It seems that you can't patent an idea.

W is a bit discouraged. Melancholy even.

We really need to cheer him up…

Je Suis Charlie 

Black Wednesday

Early this morning Wilson popped into the village in search of post-Xmas bargains. 

A few minutes ago I found he had returned and was sitting morosely in the kitchen, clutching a pack of socks.

'What's up, matey?' I asked him brightly.

In reply he held up the socks saying, in a dejected tone, 'Do you see these? These are odd socks. But they are not ODDSIES!'

Closer examination proved this to be true. Some other unscrupulous and unprincipled (Wilson's words) manufacturer is making and selling odd socks — which are undoubtedly Wilson's invention.

Therapy session

Wilson — whom I found wearing a wide grin and a distant look while waving his torch in time to Eat, Sleep, Rave, Repeat playing on his iPad — told me that when he first arrived with his torch he'd heard someone shout, 'Quiet! It's the Fuzz!' followed by an uneasy silence and some giggling.

Then Polly had emerged from the tumble dryer and explained to him that what was going on was in fact not a party but a trauma treatment she and Billi had developed called Rave Therapy, and asked whether he would let them use his torch for a light show.

'Now' he continued 'I'm helping. And joining in, because… well, it would be rude not to. And I can always catch up on my sleep during the day!'

Rave on

Neither Wilson nor I got much sleep last night due to the party going on in the tumble dryer.

About 2am it got too much for Wilson, who stumbled out of bed half asleep, grabbed his Hippo torch and staggered downstairs mumbling that he was going to 'Sort this out once and for all!' 

When he arrived, everything fell silent. I heard a low conversation that I couldn't quite make out, then the music and partying suddenly got louder than ever!

After 30 minutes W still hadn't returned so I went down to see for myself what was happening. 

The first thing I noticed was a flashing light showing under the kitchen door...

Trauma ward

Wilson had to sleep in my room last night, because his bedroom has been (temporarily, I hope) converted into a Trauma Ward for everyone affected by watching Snow White. 

I have to say, they don't look very traumatised — they're all giggling and playing, and for some reason the sTone Brothers are in there too, and they didn't even see the film!

Polly and Billi are administering big doses of TLC and small doses of Royal Jelly.

I fear that is making everyone even more excitable!