The Wabbit discusses time management with the Cat Upstairs

The Wabbit had gone for a confidential talk with Cat who lived Upstairs. "Cat Upstairs," said the Wabbit. "I want to talk to you about time management. I have much to do and little time to do it in." The Wabbit flinched, because he did not like ending a sentence with a preposition, especially when talking to the Cat Upstairs. "I have this rather nice clock, a time piece if you will," responded the cat. The Wabbit was a little confused about how that helped exactly but he pressed on. "So if your day is filled with things on a list, what then?" The Cat Upstairs snorted. My list is simple but extensive - nap, sleep, slumber, snooze, doze ... and sometimes I have to fit in a siesta, so to speak." The Wabbit found this discussion quite intriguing. "And the clock ...?" prompted the Wabbit. "If I had no timepiece," said the Cat Upstairs, "... how would I know when to finish a nap and begin a snooze." The Wabbit decided it was time to go and hopped back downstairs.

The Wabbit and what the Wabbit knew

The Wabbit was back in his neighbourhood. And he knew that sooner or later he would run into some obstruction or other. The Wabbit also knew this particular obstruction meant that the festive season was over. "I had a good break and now obstructions don't mean so much to me," thought the Wabbit, "with the possible exception of snow." Anyway, the Wabbit had too many things of too much importance on his list for old Christmas trees. And besides, he had to admit that he kind of liked the smell of the pine needles. So the Wabbit realised he knew a lot of things that made life easier for the Wabbit. He could just hop on his merry way, because the most important thing the Wabbit knew was that he was a natural born wabbit. The Wabbit knew he always mistook the words of one of his favourite songs but he sang them anyway as he hopped over the branches. He sang them at the top of his wabbit voice. You make me feel/ you make me feel/ like a natural born .... wabbit.

The Wabbit has a Homecoming Moment

When the Wabbit opened his eyes, he was in a familiar place. It was the Big Shopping Centre. The Wabbit was back. And there was something else that was familiar. He was staring at himself on a computer. The Wabbit knew this was all part of a plan, because the writing was all about the Wabbit and his list. The list was importantly important. Of that the Wabbit was well aware. He must hop his path. The Wabbit decided to talk to the man in the shop, because by his demeanour, he seemed anxious to help. "Man in shop!," said the Wabbit. "Would you furnish me with one of these smart computers, that I might expedite my list the quicker." Travelling clearly made the Wabbit talk in a very odd manner indeed. The Wabbit continued. " Will you deliver it on your bike?" The man could only nod. "Excellent," said the Wabbit and vanished. The Wabbit had gone home.

The Wabbit spots his Ticket Home

The Wabbit liked the Piazza Navona, so it was no surprise when he arrived there automatically. And so sooner had he arrived than he spotted the Giant. This was no coincidence, thought the Wabbit. The Wabbit did not believe in coincidences. "Well, you took your time, Wabbit," said the Giant. The Wabbit smiled to himself and jumped closer. "Make room in your fur, Wabbit. Here is your emergency coin, your lighter, your documents and a diplomatic pass." The Giant hardly looked the Wabbit's way since he had much work with the children . The Wabbit took no offence, because now the Wabbit knew he would be returned, without further ado. "Grazie mille, Signor Gigante. Arrivederci," murmured the Wabbit. And he closed his eyes tightly and thought of home ...

The Wabbit speaks with his friend, Antiquicat

The Wabbit was puffing and panting as he screeched to a halt in Largo di Torre, Argentina, where his friend, Antiquicat, had care-taking duties. "Question, question, question Antiquicat," puffed the Wabbit. "Should I relocate to Rome? What's it like to live here?" The cat looked at the Wabbit in a critical but affectionate manner. "Stress out, Wabbit. What's the rush? I have been here many years and this place I look after is two thousand years old, give or take a hundred or four." The Wabbit paused and sat quietly. And the more he sat quietly, the quieter he became. Perhaps he had acted hastily. "You mean it will be just the same, when I return?" "Yes Wabbit, more or less. And you have your path to hop. Many things on your list remain outstanding, don't you agree?" It was true, thought the Wabbit. Everything the cat said was true. There were things to do, things that were importantly important. They could not be left on a whim. "I'll have once last look around and be on my way then, " said the Wabbit. And dodging bits of dried cat food, he hopped past the tourists. Antiquicat watched the Wabbit until, eventually, he disappeared out of sight somewhere along Via Corso Vittorio Emanuele II.

The Wabbit considers the Road Ahead

The Wabbit had been delayed. Owing to the detection of his emergency lighter, the Wabbit had not successfully passed security. So he had to stay a little longer. He did not mind and he gazed at the road ahead. "I wonder," thought the Wabbit, "what it would be like to stay around here." He considered the merits. There were excellent salad sandwiches, efficient and amicable treatment in eating places and plenty of new streets to explore. There seemed to be, all in all, good wabbit facilities and a pleasant enough atmosphere. But the Wabbit had work to do. He knew his list wouldn't go away just because he relocated. He wondered if he could get a second opinion and since now he had some time, the Wabbit loped off in the direction of the arrow. He could lope very fast indeed if in the mood. The day was sunny, and the Wabbit took to the bus lane. It wasn't very long before the Wabbit picked up speed and was whizzing along. The Wabbit was just a streak of lightning and so no-one saw him go - only a single motorcyclist on a red Ducati. The motorcyclist merely inclined his head very slightly. And so did the Wabbit.

The Wabbit reviews his Year

The Wabbit felt the need to think over the events of the previous year. That called for a strong beverage, which the Wabbit had duly arranged. And what a year 2010 had been for the Wabbit! The Wabbit had met many new friends. He had safely survived the perils of the balcony. He had conquered rain and leaves and snow. He had been given a lift in a chocolate car. He had battled wabbit exclusion and been invited to contribute to wabbit affairs on the European Committee of Experts. He had taken part in the Great Wabbit Homecoming. And what about his rescue of an oppressed wabbit and his subsequent and abrupt dismissal of the sinister agents of Rabit? Then he recalled he had successfully negotiated the special launch of Lagomorph Lager. And, somewhat to his embarrassment, he had been sung about by young musicians. After all that, the gifts of the Giantess and his well-deserved holiday was merely icing on the cake. All the same, there were many outstanding items on his list. And the list only got longer. “I will have to put my list on the list!” The Wabbit chuckled. And so did the waiter behind him.

The Wabbit and the New Year Roman Candle

The Wabbit returned to his lodgings, hoping his secret stash had been delivered promptly and in time for midnight. And there they were. Roman candles. He read the strangely-written instructions which said “Light the blue touch paper and run away very quickly”. With one eye on the clock, he flicked his emergency lighter and then the Wabbit turned and ran like the fastest wabbit in the land. Zig-zag, zig-zag went the Wabbit and then he leapt onto a handy ledge. For what seemed like an age, nothing particular happened and the Wabbit hopped from one leg to another impatiently. He was certainly not going to investigate. Not the Wabbit. Then came a splattering and then a hissing and then a rumbling ... and then there was the most enormous kaboom, which startled the Wabbit and he jumped into the air at least a metre. Sparks flew everywhere as the Roman Candle threw sparks in many directions. “Good grief! I should have expected that really,” thought the Wabbit. Then he smelled a strange smell. He had singed his fur. Just a tiny little bit. “I shouldn’t be allowed,” murmured the Wabbit with a mischievous grin. “I just shouldn’t be allowed at all.”

The Wabbit makes tracks for New Year fun

It didn’t take the cart-wheeling Wabbit long to reach wherever he was going. Only the Wabbit knew where he was going. Well, for the most part, he knew. But sometimes he just followed his wabbit nose. The Wabbit loved New Year. It was his very favourite day of the whole year and he was searching out a nice district where there might be celebration and song and ... fireworks. Now generally speaking, wabbits do not like fireworks, but the Wabbit was no ordinary wabbit. When the Wabbit saw or heard fireworks his eyes gleamed mischievously and his paw itched and groped for his emergency lighter. Only a very few wabbits knew of the existence of this specialised item, nestling in the Wabbit's fur. “Roman Candles,” thought the Wabbit, “ since I am in the very place for them.” And the Wabbit allowed himself a snicker through his teeth.” I shall find a place to hang out and wait to see what happens. This is going to be the best New Year a wabbit could possibly wish for!” And the Wabbit hopped towards the welcoming light of a cafe, with a song in his head and hope in his heart.

The Wabbit receives an important Message

The Wabbit was minding his own business when suddenly he knew he could feel eyes boring into the back of his head. So quick as a flash the Wabbit turned around. It was a squirrel in a window. “I am the Squirrel in the Window,” said the squirrel, superfluously. And he rapped the window three times with his paw to make his point. “Indeed,” said the Wabbit. The squirrel continued. “I have a message from the Chief Wabbit of Galloway.” Now the Wabbit was surprised, and he prided himself on not being surprised. “What is the substance of the message,” said the Wabbit who could be pompous if startled. “Chief Wabbit says don’t forget it’s Hogmanay. The start of the New Year is nearly here.” “Thank you squirrel,” said the Wabbit, slightly ashamed of his poor manners. “Thank you very much. I must proceed forthwith. Forgive me for what you are about to see.” And then the Wabbit binkied high in the air and when he landed, not too far away, he started to cartwheel and as he did he shouted “Hogmanay” at the top of his voice. And the Wabbit got faster and faster and faster. Soon, the squirrel lost sight of the Wabbit and he smiled as he shook his head. “Silly Wabbit,” said the squirrel.

The Wabbit dines like a King

All that sightseeing and singing had made the Wabbit peckish. So without further ado he hopped into a nearby restaurant and jumped onto a chair. With any luck there would be a salad sandwich. Somehow - and the Wabbit hadn’t ordered a thing, nor looked at the menu - a carrot risotto appeared on the table and a bottle of lagomorph house wine. The Wabbit dined well. Very well indeed. So his small tummy was quite full. But then the Wabbit wondered about paying and he felt in his fur for his emergency coin. “Have no fear Wabbit,” said the waiter who appeared instantly. “Your emergency coin is no good here.” Then the Wabbit employed his new linguistic skills. “Grazie mille. Ho mangiato da re!” Then the Wabbit was gone, hopping his way past the crowds milling around the Fontana di Trevi. And on his way through the many legs, he intercepted some poorly aimed coins. “You never know,” said the Wabbit. “You never know.”