There is a Womble pacing along the wall where the door is supposed to be. His door isn't there. It was there this morning, but now it's not. He feels along the wall with his paws, and sniffs at it with his nose, but he can't smell home. He looks a bit worried, and starts to make quiet 'Tck' noises as he keeps trying.

This is the home of the Womble s . Wellington is in the garden, Wombling* in the bushes. He's got quite a good haul this morning, with lots of sweet wrappers to take home in his tidy bag. And a couple...his paw, the insect flutters onto it. He keeps perfectly still, watching it with an interested expression. [Wombling (v): The process in which Wombles collect abandoned human items for recycling.]

Wellington has nearly finished his little recycled portakabins for the little eyeball people. He's finished the soldering of the drinks can exterior, and now for an extra touch is glueing in some fluffy...lighting... He sits and ponders for a moment; it would be all very well installing a light bulb, but he needs to make it safe and easy for some very small creatures to turn on and off. Suggestions

This is the home of the Womble s . Wellington is just outside the back door, working with two large contraptions. The first one appears to be a clockwork powered soldering iron, which it has taken him...off. The door has presented more of a challenge (he's not sure how hard the little eyeball people can push) so he's currently experimenting with a piece of thick cardboard and some lego hinge pieces

This is the home of the Womble s . Wellington has finished chopping vegetables in the kitchen, and is now pottering around the bar, occasionally stopping to look at Human Being things that have attracted...lid and experimentally prods at the keys. He doesn't try to read the music. His nose only just goes over the edge of the keys, let alone high enough to see the stand. But he seems to be having fun

Wellington steps out of the kitchen, following the end of his shift. He pads over to the bar to give her his apron back, and receives a note. "Oh dear." he says, his eyes widening. "Could you hang on...drinks located higher than six feet will be subject to a short wait. He then climbs down and gets up onto the boxes behind the bar, so that his nose and hat just manage to peep over the top

Wellington has managed to get himself in a bit of a tangle. He sits under a table and tries to get a pair of wire coat hangers off from around his tummy, where he put them initially to make them easier to carry. Every now and again from under the table there is a twanggg noise, or an exclamation of exasperation.