Hello — we are Polly and Billi the Bees, and this is our Guest Blog!
Still no news about Uncle Zoltan — not even a postcard — but wonderful news about dangerous pesticides that kill bees!
However, Billi (who is the more political one in this marriage) says that since the UK is in the process of leaving the EU and implementing the Great Repeal Bill, we'll probably all get poisoned by pesticides after all. :(
She also says that if we bees go, you'll be next — and that's not an April Fools' Joke!
Here's the link to the story: https://tinyurl.com/k34zv3w
Anyway, we've both got our tarsi crossed for Ms Johanna Konta in this afternoon's Miami Open Final!
Ms Konta lives in Eastbourne, which is only a few days' flying time from Uckfield, although we've never actually met her.
Good Luck Ms Konta!
Tomorrow, Wilson is going to see Legally Blonde! We're a tiny bit jealous, so we might stow away in the new car and go too! Hahaha!
We've been The Bees, and we'll see you next month — until then, BEEEEE GOOD!
Today Wilson washed the car — which was very brave of him, considering his legendary dislike of water!
While he worked he kept his spirits up by singing a traditional car-washing song:
🎶At the car wash, baby
Talking about the car wash, yeah
Come on y'all and sing it for me
Car wash, woah, car wash yeah! 🎶
When he'd finished, he told me I shouldn't expect this to become a habit, as it was strictly a one-off.
He
made a very nice job of it — shiny and streak-free — so as a reward
I've lent him some of my History of Modern Art books... once he'd
thoroughly dried himself off.
Also, I made him swear to me he would never get the new car sign-written.
I've just found Wilson drawing moustaches and various other facial accessories on the TV using the special Glass Marker he borrowed from the Bees.
He's given Nigel Farage (or Nigel Farrago as W wittily calls him) the full works.
I asked why he hadn't done President Trump, and he told me that he's too scared to get close to the screen when 'that man' is on.
That's fair enough — I feel pretty much the same.
However, I have confiscated the marker, and returned it to Polly.
I just hope he can get the drawings off the screen before I settle down to watch Person Of Interest and Broadchurch this evening...
Today I gave Wilson a little history lesson:
WHEN THE MODE OF THE MUSIC CHANGES, THE WALLS OF THE CITY SHAKE!
It
may be 20 years ago today that Sgt Pepper taught the band to play, but
it is now exactly FIFTY years since I headed up to Alexandra Palace for
the 14 HOUR TECHNICOLOUR DREAM — the International Times' benefit event...
1967
was the Summer of Love, when we wore kaftans with flowers in our hair
and bells round our necks, the year of Flower Children and Hippies, the
year we believed Love was All We Needed, the year we thought we could
change the world, when we Made Love Not War, a time of hope, a time when
anything seemed possible...
__________
As a footnote, in 1967
£1 was a LOT of money to pay for a gig ticket. In this case, it was
worth every (old) penny — although I think I got my ticket for 15/-
(75p) by buying it in person from the promoter, Harvey Goldsmith, with
whom I worked at the time.
Wilson woke me just after dawn this morning, sticking his head round my bedroom door and shouting, 'Wake up, New Dad! Wake up! I've got a surprise for you!'
I pulled on my jeans and a T-shirt, and as he hustled me downstairs W explained that because he didn't want me to feel left out by Mothers' Day yesterday, he'd bought me a special present which he knew I really wanted.
Opening the front door, I immediately noticed that our car was missing... replaced by a brand new Nissan Juke!
He grinned at me, and said, 'Don't worry — it's all paid for. Um... one way or another.'
'VISA?' I asked, and he nodded.
I frowned and asked him, 'Have you stolen my identity?'
He looked shocked.
'New Dad — how could you even THINK that of me?' he replied. 'I merely borrowed it for the deposit and the finance. And the insurance, of course.'
Deftly changing the subject, he continued, 'I was going to buy you a yellow one, but I always think a yellow car just screams "Mid-Life Crisis" don't you agree?'
By a cruel irony of fate, on the very day that British Summer Time [Daylight Saving] begins, the battery in Wilson's famous WASTE* MkII self-adjusting clock failed, and he had to not only manually re-set the hands to Summer Time, but also change the battery.
To compound his misery, he had forgotten to send his Mum, Mrs Vermilingua, a Mothers' Day Card, so he tried to telephone her at the zoo.
When the phone was answered, I heard Wilson say, 'Hello? Is that... Mr Barry White? Oh. You sound just like him!'
The phone had been answered, he later told me, by a strange, male anteater who identified himself as Mrs Vermilingua's Significant Other.
This person said that Mrs V was unable to come to the phone as she was giving birth to some more pups at the moment, so Wilson just left a message.
'That was probably the latest Dad!' he remarked, matter-of-factly — 'My Mum, Mrs V, would really go for a voice like that!'
________________
*Winter And Summer Timekeeping Equipment
