The Power of Positive Thought!

Wilson is still in very high spirits, sitting in the garden with his crayons and his friends, working on his new ant-related game. 

I can't help thinking it's the 'ant-related' bit that's holding his games back, but what do I know?

Polly-B is out there too, just keeping a responsible motherly eye on everyone and making sure no-one gets glued to the patio. 

Or each other. 

Or tries glue-sniffing. 

More bad news…

Yesterday wasn't a brilliant day for Wilson, what with him missing seeing the mole through being in the ER at the Hospital, then being given what he thought was a photograph of the mole, but turned out to be just an accidental snap of Antony. 

But he accepted it all with great equanimity, I thought, saying that Antony had only been trying to help, and in any case it was quite a good picture, if a bit blurry. 

This morning, however, he received some more bad news — a "Cease And Desist" letter from someone claiming to represent the Top Trumps Company saying that Wilson was not allowed to sell his Top Trumps: Ants game without their permission.

I thought this would be the last straw for poor old Wilson, but he took it extremely well, saying, 'Top Trumps is so 1970s anyway — I've just had an idea for a much better game!'

Wildlife photography

Wilson turned to Antony. 'You took a photograph of the mole? You clever, clever lad! Then all perhaps is not lost — I shall still see the little guy!' Relief spread across his furry face.

'Um, it didn't turn out very well…' Antony explained, hesitantly.

'Nonsense!' Wilson rejoined, 'I'm sure it's splendid. I shall have it framed and hang it in the Living Room!'

'No, it really isn't very good…' Antony continued, as he went into the kitchen to fetch the photograph.

Returning a few minutes later, he handed Wilson a Polaroid.

'Oh!' Wilson exclaimed, 'It's very out of focus, but I can still just make him out. He looks a lot like you, Antony!'

Antony shuffled from foot to foot, before admitting, 'That's because it is me, I hoped you wouldn't notice. The camera went off unexpectedly, while I was looking through the wrong end of the viewfinder…'

Good news… Bad news…

When we returned home from the Hospital, everyone was out on the front drive to greet us. Wilson assumed this was because they'd been worried about him, so he climbed out of the car to assure them that he was fully recovered, but before he could say anything Johnson Major called out to him, 'We've seen the mole!'

W ran into the back garden, followed by the rest of the family, but when he arrived at the mole-hills there was no mole to be seen.

'Where is he then?' he asked, 'Where's the mole?'

Polly explained that the earth had started moving and another molehill had gradually appeared, then after a couple of minutes a tiny mole had popped his head out of the top of the new hill.

'Yes, and?' Wilson urged, circling his paw in a 'hurry up, talk faster' gesture.

'Well, he was very nice!' Polly assured W, 'but he said he couldn't stay. He said he had things to do…'

'Is he coming back?' W asked, hopefully.

'He didn't mention it, so I think not. But he did say he was sorry to have missed you!' 

Polly tried to sound reassuring, but W was beyond consolation. 

'I took his photo!' Antony piped up.

Accident and Emergency

Just in case the mole made another appearance, Wilson insisted that everyone come and keep watch on the molehills while we went to A&E to have his megaphone removed. 

Once everybody had gathered in the garden and been briefed on what to do in the event of a mole-sighting, W and I made yet another trip to the Village Hospital, with yet another embarrassing injury. Wilson must be getting a bit of a reputation with the staff there…

We saw the Triage Nurse as soon as we arrived, then after a bit of a wait, during which time I poked a series of inappropriate snacks from the hospital vending machine into the end of the megaphone, we saw the ER Doctor.

After questioning us about W's mishap, he produced a long feather from his desk drawer and introduced the tickly end into the megaphone. After a good deal of snuffling, Wilson gave an enormous sneeze and the megaphone flew off his nose.

On the way home we called in to Peacocks to buy him a replacement sun hat!

Sun hat mishap...

While I had no objection to Wilson staying in the garden to watch for the mole, I was worried about him getting sunburned, so I told him he could remain outside only if he wore his sun hat. 

Since he no longer trusted Uncle Zoltan, I promised to keep vigil until he returned, promising to call him if there was any mole-related activity.

W ran off into the house for his sun hat, but was gone for quite a long time. 

When he finally emerged, he was wearing not his sun hat but his megaphone!

'I couldn't find my hat, New Dad, so I improvised with this,' he said.

I agreed that it would certainly provide excellent sun protection, but wondered whether he could actually see anything.

'Not really.' he replied, 'Also, it's just slightly stuck on my head...'

Wilson takes a snooze

Wilson flinched but said nothing. His unratified Decoration has been a source of distress to him for years now, but I think he's starting to accept that his OBE may never be recognised by The Royal Family. Or anyone else, for that matter.

After a bit of snorting, he settled down to watch the molehill keeping completely still and silent — neither of which states come naturally to him. 

While he stared intently at the heap of earth his eyelids became heavier and began to droop, his breathing grew slower, deeper... deeper, until he began to drift away…

Suddenly he awoke with a start and beheld: another molehill!

'What happened?' he asked.

'Well, the mole built another molehill — he's a busy little fellow!' Uncle Z chuckled.

'But you didn't wake me?' W demanded in a tone of disbelief.

'You were sleeping so soundly, I thought the rest would do you good,' the elderly bee (or wasp, or hornet, or whatever he is) replied. 

Wilson stamped around the garden for a few minutes to ensure he was wide awake and fully alert, before returning to his long mole-watching vigil.