With Hallowe'en and Guy Fawkes Night safely over, Wilson has finally found time in his busy schedule to evaluate the hole in the ceiling for me.
He insisted that this inspection had to be carried out from inside the loft and, while I'm not saying he enlarged the hole by sticking his head through it, there is quite a lot of plaster on the floor beneath it… and it does look a lot bigger than I remember.
The appraisal got off to a bad start when Uncle Zoltan announced that not only was he an expert on bonfire building, he also has unmatched knowledge of holes in ceilings. Which he insisted on imparting.
He had been holding forth pompously on the existential nature of ceiling holes for several minutes (while Wilson made Herculean efforts not to yawn) when suddenly his hat fell off.
W tried very hard not to laugh… but totally failed. He fell about giggling hysterically and Uncle Z flew off muttering to himself about 'children today' and their 'lack of respect for their elders. And betters.'
As it happens, though, when Wilson came down he told me he had 'the very perfect thing' to effect a repair — but it was in his Museum and he didn't have time to get it right now as he was extremely busy.
Well, the hole's been there for quite a while; I don't suppose a few more days will hurt…
Last night's Bonfire Night Celebrations passed off safely and without incident.
Unless you count a small scorch to Wilson's mouth when he didn't let a toasted marshmallow cool sufficiently before eating it.
'OW!' he exclaimed, 'Toasted Marshmallows are like Napalm if you don't let them cool down enough! I think these must have been made by DOW Chemical…'
There was no visible damage, and following emergency first-aid treatment (application of chilled Ant Gin and making a fuss of him) he soon forgot all about it.
When I was a boy, Bonfire Night was one of the BIG nights of the year — right up there with Xmas and your own Birthday — but of course, Hallmark hadn't yet invented Hallowe'en. Nowadays Guy Fawkes is celebrated much less, which is probably a good thing.
When Wilson first came to live with me we'd have fireworks in the back garden; last year we went to an organised display; this year he says he'd like just a big bonfire so the whole family can attend. With loads of Marshmallows.
I suspect he'll want loads of Ant Gin too, but fire and gin seems to me like a dangerous combination.
He's in the garden now, discussing Bonfire Construction and making certain that no hedgehogs are hiding under the wood. This is turning out to be quite a heated debate because Uncle Zoltan has declared himself to be a world authority on the art and craft of Bonfire Building, whereas Wilson just wants to pile the wood up and set fire to it…
Diesel the Goldfish is out there too, not because he likes bonfires (he doesn't — he worries that his water will overheat) but because he's hoping for a drop of rain. He loves a drop of rain.
As Wilson's re-telling of our voyage round the lighthouse continued, it got more and more exciting!
Actually it got SO thrilling that there were parts I didn't remember at all — our boat sinking, for a start. Perhaps I'm suffering from 'selective amnesia' or PTSD.
Come to that, I don't even recall the bit where our boat was attacked by a giant sea-horse (though it looks more like a swimming donkey in W's diorama — but he's never seen a real sea-horse) or being rescued by the life-boat, or even the incident where armed paramedics were lowered from a helicopter!
Still, it's Wilson telling the story, and if that's how he remembers it…
Everyone is really enjoying this tale of nautical bravery, with the possible exception of the sTone Brothers. They keep interrupting with muffled questions, eg, 'Is something happening?' 'Is there anybody there?' and, 'Can someone take these bandages off? Hello?'
I'm very excited to announce that Wilson now has 2000 Twitter Followers, and they're all real (which is to say, he hasn't bought any of them)!
Why not head over to Twitter and follow the lovely Wilson yourself? You might love it!
@WVermilingua
Wilson has made a model of The Needles Lighthouse out of a toilet-roll tube and a Dairylea cheese spread box, and constructed a diorama of The Needles on the dining room table.
He had hoped to use one of the sTone brothers as The Rocks, but neither of them was keen on the idea so he's brought in a big (and quite muddy) stone from the garden.
All the family is now gathered round while W describes his boat trip to the lighthouse round the treacherous Needles Rocks, listening spellbound as he relates his intrepid adventures on the voyage.
Actually I think he's embellishing the truth a tiny bit, but he WAS very brave to venture onto the boat at all, and naturally wants to emphasise his fearless audacity on the water.
Hello everyone, we are The Bees, Polly and Billi, and this is our Guest Blog!
Wilson showed us something in the New Scientist magazine that said flowers were now producing caffeine so that bees get addicted to it — that way the bees take less honey, but still pollinate the flowers because they're after their hit of Java!*
But we think that is a lot of nonsense — we get all the caffeine we need from the 17 or so cups we drink every day!
Anyway, what with Hallowe'en and the fact that we've been waggle-dancing non-stop we haven't had any sleep for about four days, so we're off now.
As soon as we've had another quad espresso each.
We'll see you next month — until then, Beeeeeeeeeeeee good!
*Current Biology, DOI: 10.1016/jcub2015.08.052
Margaret Couvillon, University of Sussex
New Scientist, 24 October 2015, p16
