JOURNAL November 2013 of my life with Wilson
es entur v d a â€™s ilson W w o Foll k at: .co.u t daily o p s log rs2.b a w t n //a http:
Original photographs of Wilson used by kind permission of TamanduaGirl: www.livingwithanteaters.com
Now that Hallowe’en finally over, Wilson and Byron divided up their booty.
They gave a few sweets each to Polly-B, Antony and Tiny
Toy and put some aside for the sTone Brothers. Then Wilson
said that, apart from a few of his favourites, Byron could have the rest to take home and share with his many siblings.
I thought that was a kind gesture. Moreover, it will avoid
last year’s embarrassing incident when Wilson tried to sell his
Hallowe’en plunder back to the neighbours from whom he’d got them!
I wonder whether I should give the zoo dentist a call to warn him of what’s on its way?
This morning I drove Byron and his suitcase full of Trick-orTreat goodies back to the zoo.
As he climbed into the car he said, ‘Thank you very much for having me, Wilson’s New Dad.’ Oh, he’s so polite!
I’m sure he enjoyed his time here, but I think he was beginning to miss his mum, Mrs Vermilingua, and all his brothers and sisters.
After we’d left Byron at the zoo with his family, Wilson was
very quiet on the journey home. Now that we’re back, though, his thoughts have turned to: Bonfire Night!
The house seems very quiet now that Byron has gone home. I enjoyed having him here, and I think it was good for Wilsonâ€Ś but I can begin to see why their mother, Mrs Vermilingua, gets through so much Gin!
Anyway, the house is quieter still at present as Wilson has gone out to gather wood for his Fireworks Night bonfire.
Wilson came home yesterday with a lot of wood for his
Firework Night Bonfire — more than I expected. Much, MUCH more than I expected.
Still, he’s stacked it neatly in the garden, so I suppose it’s alright.
I just hope he doesn’t make his bonfire too big, what with the FBU strikes…
Wilson is in the kitchen finishing up his Pumpkin Soup With Ants
and home-made Ant Croutons after what he is calling ‘The Best Bonfire Night Ever!’
Unable to sleep after the excitement of last night’s bonfire, Wilson started reading Carrie ‘Princess Leia’ Fisher’s book ‘Postcards From The Edge.’ This morning he has decided to
write a book based on the postcards he sent me while on holiday with his Mum, Mrs Vermilingua.
He’s working on it now, and tells me it will be a ‘funny, brash and biting novel called “Postcards From The Zoo” and will
apparently be quite like “Postcards From The Edge,” but with
more pictures.’ He is confident that it will be ‘a sure-fire best seller, as long as it gets the right promotion.’
He’s writing it in his dressing-gown because he thinks it makes him look, as he puts it, ‘well Noël Coward.’ I just hope he doesn’t start smoking a pipe and calling me ‘Dear Boy!’
At least this should keep him out of mischief for a couple of weeks, maybe longer!
Wilson, after starting work yesterday on his novel ‘Postcards From The Zoo,’ is now suffering from Writers’ Block. He’s spent all day in the tumble dryer with his Editor (Antony),
Researcher (Tiny Toy) and a bottle of Ant Gin. Occasionally he will stick his head out to shout, ‘The Pressure! It’s Intolerable, Dear Boy! Intolerable!’
Meanwhile his Literary Agent (Polly-B) is on the phone trying to arrange an appearance for him on The Alan Titchmarsh Show to promote his book.
Hopefully after he’s finished writing it.
This morning Wilson, hung-over and dehydrated, looks a lot less Noël Coward and a lot more Hunter S Thompson as he sips his triple espresso with paracetamol.
‘I’ve still got Writers’ Block, New Dad,’ he complained. ‘Also
my Literary Agent couldn’t get me onto The Alan Titchmarsh Show, nor Loose Women. Not even The One Show.’ ‘Really?’ I asked, trying to sound surprised.
‘She said the best she could do was get me an appearance on Dickinson’s Real Deal, as long as I had something old to sell.’ He buried his face in his paws and sighed.
All thoughts of his novel have been temporarily thrown aside as Wilson has read that the Producers of ‘Star Wars’ are
holding Open Auditions today in Bristol, with London to follow on November 23 and 24. The Producers are looking for a
handsome, smart and athletic male to cast as the lead character called William.
‘I am a handsome, smart and athletic male!’ he declared. ‘My
name is Wilson - that’s LIKE “William”! Also, “Star Wars” is my favourite film -
I shall be a shoe-in! I hope my Leading Lady is pretty!’ Following the
aftermath of him watching
has been banned from seeing any Science Fiction
‘Star Wars,’ but he’s pleaded to be allowed to
onto the iPad, and I’ve agreed.
He’s asked me
to call him William
from now until the
audition date, to help him get into character.
Wilson has received several letters of support, encouraging him in his bid to land a starring role in the next Star Wars movie! Here is a typical message, from his friend Bob:
“I really would love to see Wilson in Star Wars; just imagine an X-wing fighter piloted by an ant eater, it would be a box office smash. Good luck, W, in the auditions.”
He’s just popped in to the village to buy a Light Sabre so he can start rehearsing tomorrow.
Just a TOY Light Sabre, I hope!
Wilson has settled down in the dining room, his trusty Light Sabre (he hasn’t tried it yet - couldn’t find enough AA
batteries) and a cup of tea at his side, script on his lap, learning his lines for his Star Wars Audition. Antony is helping by reading all the other characters’ parts.
Occasionally I will hear raised voices as W declaims in a
Shakespearean voice, ‘You are a member of the Rebel Alliance and a Traitor!’ or ‘Try not. Do… or do not. There is no try!’ or something equally dramatic. Meanwhile, messages of
encouragement continue to trickle in; here’s
another typical one from his friend Sheila:
‘Whoo hoo Wilson! Knock
‘em dead in that audition!’
Wilson is now in rehearsal, with Polly-B playing the part of Darth Vader:
W: ‘I’ll never give in. You killed my New Dad!’
P-B: ‘Bzzzzz No, Luke, I AM your bzzz father!’ P-B: ‘Yessssszzzzz!’
W: ‘Why did you cut my arm off?’
And so on.
Wilson’s friend Rhonda has sent him a message: “Break a leg, Wilson!!”
At first he thought this was a curse from a rival auditionee, but I explained that it was in fact a traditional good-luck message to actors of the highest calibre.
I’ve just found a Light Sabre burn on the sofa. I don’t know
exactly how I’m going to explain that to the insurance company. Wilson has received yet another message of encouragement, this one from his friend Joe:
“The Force, young Wilson, strong with you may be.” Although this is clearly from Joe, W insists that it’s really from Yoda, and won’t be persuaded otherwise.
He’s taking it as a very Good Omen.
Amazon has just delivered a load of book about Method Acting, all addressed to Wilson. He’s in the conservatory with them
now, reading about Lee Strasbourg and Stanislavsky and ‘The Method.’
Also, he appears to be speaking to me only in quotes from Star Wars.
The sooner this audition comes and goes, the better!
Today, Wilson is communicating only in quotations from Star Wars. He says that it’s part of ‘The Method.’
I asked him if he fancied coming into the village with me for a coffee, and he said, ‘Awwwww! But I was going into Tosche Station to pick up some power converters!’
I have no idea what that means, but I took it as a No and
asked him if he’d like me to bring him a cup of tea and a cookie? He deepened his voice and replied, ‘Make it so, Mr Riker!’ I’m not an expert, but even I know
that’s Star Trek, not Star Wars!
Wilson’s Light Sabre seems to cause a lot of interference on our TV - you’d think the Jedi Scientists would have sorted that out by now!
I pointed this out to W, who replied, ‘But how could they be
jamming us if they don’t know… that we’re… coming?’ As usual, I don’t know what he’s talking about, but he agreed to keep
his weapon turned off at least while Boardwalk Empire is on tonight.
We didn’t watch much of Children in Need last night, but W was very affected by what we did see, and was moved to make a donation. If you’d like to do the same, you can go to: http://tinyurl.com/9ej37v2
Polly-B has just rushed in, very excited, to tell Wilson that
she’s managed to arrange a ticket for him to be in the audience of the Jeremy Kyle Show.
He told her that he couldn’t be doing with that right now, due to rehearsals.
‘Anyway,’ he asked, ‘how will I publicise my book if I’m just in the audience?’
‘Wear a sandwich board saying “Postcards From The Zoo” is a brilliant book, and I wrote it!”’ Polly-B replied.
W regarded her for a moment, then retorted, ‘Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper?’ I think he was a bit torn, though, as the
Jeremy Kyle Show is one of his favourites.
To help him ‘get into’ his part, Wilson is now building a model Millennium Falcon out of Lego bricks.
Polly-B is in charge of handing W the next brick, while Antony and Tiny Toy are allowed only to observe. In silence.
From behind a tiny Lego fence.
Considering that he’s working without plans or instructions, he’s making quite a nice job of it!
Polly-B is helping Wilson with his rehearsals. He’s getting a bit
cross with her because, instead of saying her lines (which after all consist only of whistling and buzzing) she keeps saying, ‘Can I come out yet? I’m getting cramp in my left wing!’ and ‘This feels as though I’m being walled-up alive!’ and even ‘Help! Help!’
Wilson keeps telling her (in a very scary Darth Vader voice) that the more she complains the longer rehearsals will take.
Antony and Tiny Toy are hiding under a chair in the dining room, lest they be press-ganged into rehearsals too.
I had to intervene yesterday and insist that Wilson release
Polly-B from her Lego R2-D2 suit. Now theyâ€™re having a much more relaxed rehearsal in the conservatory, with Polly-B
wearing a comfy R2-D2 felt hat. I must say that, for a bee, she has a very forgiving nature!
Now that the Audition is drawing closer, W has booked his rail ticket to London. He told me that obviously he would have
preferred to travel in First Class, but roughing it in Second would help get him into his role of Rebel Freedom Fighter.
Wilson has put an enormous amount of effort in preparing for this audition, but I felt I had to take him aside and warn him not to get his hopes too high.
‘There will be thousands of people auditioning for this one
part!’ I reminded him. ‘In Bristol, they stopped the auditions early, and lots of people didn’t even get seen!’
‘That,’ he replied, ‘is why I am leaving early. I shall travel up
to London Town tomorrow, so I am at the head of the queue on Saturday morning!’
‘Even so,’ I said, ‘don’t set your heart on playing “William”
in the new film. It’s possible they might, however misguidedly, choose someone else.’
‘I find your lack of faith disturbing’ he replied.
Ant Wars II:
I’ve just waved Wilson off from Uckfield station. Polly-B,
Antony and Tiny Toy all came to wish him well, and as the train pulled out we all waved and shouted ‘Good Luck, Wilson! Good Luck!’
Once the train had pulled out of sight Polly-B turned to me and whispered, ‘I’ve got a very bad feeling about this.’
‘Nonsense!’ I replied, ‘The Force is strong with this one!’
I have given W strict instructions not to turn on his light sabre while on the train or in any no-smoking areas!
As soon as the Underground started running this morning, Wilson caught the Tube to the audition.
May the Force Be With You, little mate!
The auditions were far more popular than Wilson had
anticipated, and even with a very early start, he was not at
the front of the queue. However, everyone was very good-
natured and cheerful, notwithstanding the weather, and there was much sharing of umbrellas and of stories.
Iâ€™m missing him, and looking forward to hearing his news when he returns tomorrow.
Wilson is travelling home Pullman Class! I donâ€™t know whether that is to celebrate his getting the part, or to console himself for not getting it.
Either way, thereâ€™s not long to wait until I find out - Iâ€™m just off to the station to meet him.
Wilson is safely home again, and we all listened spellbound as he related his adventures in London Town.
‘Then when I finally got to the front of the queue,’ he
explained, ‘the casting assistant called to her boss, and he came over and said “We would be honoured if you would join us.”’ We all gasped!
‘Then they offered me the part of… Third Wookie!’
We started to cheer, until we noticed how W’s face had fallen. I felt that being offered any part at all was a triumph, but W obviously has higher dramatic standards than I.
‘Third WOOKIE!’ he repeated, ‘A mere spear-carrier!’ We all made solicitous noises. ‘Well, I
can’t be doing
with travelling up to Elstree
every day for a bit-part! If I can’t play
not be involved
- I’d have been barely more
than an extra!’
All the time Wilson was away, there was something he was looking forward to doing as soon as he got home: watching
“Doctor Who: The Day of the Doctor.” Last night he did so,
and it didn’t disappoint; we all watched it together, and had a discussion about it afterwards.
W said he liked it because ‘The Doctor didn’t after all kill
billions of innocent people, but he still believed that he had, so he still felt the weight of guilt lying upon him.’ W’s home country,
Costa Rica, is predominantly Roman Catholic, and I think that, with his enthusiasm for Guilt, maybe his religious roots are showing.
Anyway, we all agreed that we didn’t understand how the
writers are going to circumvent the ‘12 Regenerations’ rule...
While Wilson was in London, he suffered an embarrassing mishap when he accidentally stepped in some dog poo.
‘It was just lying on the pavement!’ he told me, ‘Just lying
there. It was disgusting, and I got it all over one of my back paws!’
He is now writing a letter to the Mayor of London Boris
Johnson, with copies to the Prime Minister, the Home Office
and the Department of Health, complaining about the state of
London’s streets, and offering his services in implementing what he calls a ‘foolproof but relatively inexpensive solution.’
Wilson re-thought his letter to Boris Johnson, deciding that a
hand-written missive would carry more weight than a typed one.
I thought he was probably right, although I counselled strongly against his use of green ink.
Wilson couldn’t settle to anything today — he’s too excited
planning his acceptance speech for the ‘Freedom of the City of
London Town’ he’s certain Boris Johnson will award to him, for ‘Services to Pavements.’ Talk about getting ahead of yourself - Boris probably won’t even have received W’s letter yet! Anyway, to pass the time he’s packaging a few pairs of ODDSIES! ready for the Xmas rush.
He has asked whether we can all watch the movie Source Code tonight, with popcorn and the lights turned off. I know I’ve
vowed not to let him watch any sci-fi films, but I’d quite like to
see it myself, and it’s only Certificate 12A so I can’t really see the harm in letting him…
Published on Dec 2, 2013
A journal of my life with a talking anteater. I appear to have been adopted by a talking ant-eater called Wilson. This is my journal, listin...