From A to Bee (17 page)

  I got there in good time but I was shocked at the sheer number of people at the apiary already. There must have been fifty beekeepers, most of them in their white bee suits already. I have to say, I stuck out like a sore thumb in my khaki suit! Though the majority were in their fifties and sixties there was a whole group of teenagers present as well. It meant a wonderful mixture of ages but I was amazed as I wasn't the youngest present. I was only stating this point to a few friendly, fellow non-middle-aged beekeepers when whispers could be heard. These youngsters were Duke of Edinburgh participants. So these guys were effectively doing this to get a little certificate and not for any other madcap reason. Therefore, looking around I was now officially the youngest beekeeper there.

  I was getting some looks from other, rather jealous, white-suited beekeepers; I think they were envious looks but I could be confusing envy with disbelief. We split off into groups of five and were shown the basics of a few fundamental skills by some more experienced beekeepers, in our case Tom and Maggie once again.

  Let me tell you a little bit about Tom and Maggie. They will be my tutors for the next year; instrumental, therefore, if I am to get my jar of honey. Tom seemed about sixty, the more dominant of the pairing and the joker; obviously with an attitude young for his years. He had one of those faces a photographer would love, being friendly and yet characterful with deep features (and wrinkles) defining it. Maggie, delightful and a lot younger than Tom, seemed to be the perfect support act. She was the true powerhouse, however, and their approach epitomised my relationship with Jo: I wear the trousers but Jo tells me the colour to wear. You could see already that she was the brains to Tom's character. As he trailed off during a description or forgot something, Maggie was already chipping in. They are a perfect team and hopefully I will learn an awful lot from them.

  Once our group's smoker was lit we made our way to one of the hives. On went the veil; I felt so smug that I had at last got a suit that fit me! On went the gloves and suddenly it all went silent in my group and everyone turned around to look at me. Tom and Maggie started to slowly shake their heads and I felt it must have been something to do with my gloves. I slowly surveyed the group's hands – something I haven't done when in the presence of a group of people before – and then realised that I was the odd one out. I was wearing gloves that looked like they would be more at home handling nuclear material.

  The others were all wearing what we'd worn last time, what I would call 'doctors' gloves', those really thin, almost see through, horrible things. What was wrong? I was surely wearing gloves to protect myself from anything and these guys were wearing essentially nothing! Tom politely suggested I swap gloves and said mine would be useless. I have to say, as soon as I saw them manipulating the bees I understood why. They were able to hold frames easily, pick bees up and generally do anything.

  The idea, I found out talking to Maggie about it later on, is that the surgeons' gloves allow you to be more tactile and as a result the bees are calmer. With my oversized leather ones, if I wasn't careful, it could result in me being clumsier, the last thing you need when moving frames around. I thought that a fair enough argument.

  The session continued and it was lovely to be around the bees again. I actually got the chance to remove a frame of bees and have a look for the queen, then place it back in the hive again – another small, though rather nerve-wracking, step forward. It sounds so simple but it involved the use of a hive tool to loosen the frame, then I had to try to pick up the frame (I see why Tom had suggested I change gloves) all the while fighting the urge to flick my hands if any bee landed on me. All said and done though, I felt a little bit more prepared this time and wasn't quite so scared. I even watched very closely as bees landed on my veil, right in front of my nose, and I was actually happy to watch them walk across it, millimetres from my face.

  However, one small event started to turn my rather serene mood. Buying a jacket rather than full bee suit meant that my legs were open to the elements. I went for light-coloured jeans despite hearing that jeans weren't brilliant as bees' legs can get stuck in the fibres; unfortunately, jeans were pretty much all I had available. I watched them on my nice new bee suit quite unfazed and then I saw them on my trousers. This was the moment it dawned on me that these jeans were my gardening trousers. I wasn't overly concerned about the fact they were quite worn but it did occur to me that I had a 'button fly'…

  … And there were a few bees taking an interest in that area. One in fact had its head in the fly already. She had free access to a very sensitive area and was already halfway inside. Panic set in, my heartbeat picked up and a long breath in was taken as I remembered bees like to investigate dark, warm areas. A button fly was like a landing strip to possibly the warmest area of my body, which would also be dark. My mind was racing. Here I was staring at a bee halfway into my button fly, working out how to get in further. I was imagining getting stung on the crown jewels. What on earth happens in that event!? Has anyone been stung down there before? Would it swell up? All of these seemingly absurd questions were rushing through my head as I watched a little yellow and black insect inspect the workmanship of my button fly.

  I very quickly, and as subtly as possible so as not to draw too much attention to myself, made a flicking motion with my fantastically tactile and flexible gloves (thank God for Tom's suggestion as my leather ones wouldn't have stood a chance). I am proud to say that my first experience of 'handling a bee' was not the very cool-looking movement of pinching a bee carefully between thumb and forefinger as I had seen Tom do earlier but flicking one. Had I opted for the former I would more likely have given it a helping hand to discover what lay beyond my button fly.

  Fortunately it was successful: the bee flew away and swollen private parts were averted! Needless to say the rest of the session was spent with my hands protecting that region while trying to look relatively normal amongst my new-found friends. Not an easy task, believe me.

  Once the session was over, and I could start breathing normally again, I felt I needed a drink. As luck would have it, Tom approached the group and mentioned he was popping to the pub for a pint. Keen to get to know my mentor and some others, I agreed.

  Of the new beekeepers, only three of us went along but as it turned out, most of the senior echelons of the association joined us. There I was surrounded by most of the mentors, not to mention the treasurer and the chairman. Overawed is perhaps a little strong but it was a little bit daunting joining a group who obviously knew each other very well. This is where the evening turned into more of an initiation ceremony.

  Seeing some new beekeepers had joined them, old stories started coming out. It began rather innocently. Tales of honey collections flowered. Then it seemed to go off on a tangent to the subject of stings, as if testing our resolve and to see if we would turn up next week. It reached a peak when Tom started to talk in a whisper, leaning lower over his pint glass. We naive new beginners hung on to his words as he told us about a beekeeper who got stung on the eye. It was only after the descriptions of turning blue, foaming at the mouth and collapsing whilst writhing around in agony that I started to get the joke and called him on it. Everyone burst out laughing; but he still insisted he had seen someone get stung in the eye and that though his description was slightly exaggerated, it does happen. Bees automatically go for the face, he was saying, and hence being suited is always advised if near to the hive. Even so, as I took a long sip of my beer, I started to relive my very own encounter this evening, 'The Battle of the Button Fly', and I couldn't help but take the notion seriously.

  All in all a great evening, some nice people met, valuable lessons learned and more knowledge gained.

Today was the first day of the build. I have to get it done as quickly as possible due to the fact that corporate life is taking me away tomorrow, Wednesday, to Amsterdam for the day. On Thursday I then go away to Finland till Sunday. Arriving back from Finland at midnight, our week-long family holiday starts seven hours later on Monday morning. Looking forward, it doesn't give me a lot of time to build, paint and preserve the hive in time for the bees to arrive! Unfortunately, it is now midnight and so far I have built only the stand. The dry run obviously didn't help that much.

  Bearing in mind my tendency to break either wood or my fingers while knocking in nails I am not holding out too much hope for the building process. I popped around to our new neighbours this evening as they are offering me a shed for free; how nice is that? I have to move it by Friday, however, and so was talking to them about how on earth I was going to dismantle it and then move it 300 yards to the allotment while out of the country. I think I have taken on a little bit too much.

  It was therefore about 9 p.m. before I started and I took a while to make sure that the kitchen table was suitably covered with newspaper to stop any mess. The stand didn't take too long but the time was swallowed up by a moment of overconfidence resulting in my hammering a nail into completely the wrong piece of wood. A pair of pliers and forty-five minutes later, construction got back on track. How annoying. But I was feeling pretty pleased with myself that I had built something. I was feeling a little bit guilty, though, as I was still banging nails into wood at 11 p.m. I probably wasn't the neighbours' best friend!

  All in all a successful night and now I just have to look at doing the brood boxes and supers which are essentially wooden boxes and so hopefully slightly easier – even though I messed up the dry run completely and put the handles on back to front and upside down.

Back from Amsterdam, another tough day at work, and what better way to release the tension than to bang some nails into wood! On reflection I am pretty pleased with yesterday and so far the construction of the brood and super boxes has gone mysteriously well. I gained confidence, the nails seemed to be not only going in but also going in perfectly straight. Then, no sooner had I started, than I finished – and at a relatively comfortable 8 p.m. It was remarkable. I have to say; it made me wonder why on earth people buy complete hives when this was so easy.

  However, I was still against a deadline as I am flying to Finland tomorrow, and so I decided to paint the hive straight away to at least get one coat of paint done before I go. My bees supposedly arrive at the end of the month and beekeepers recommend at least seven days' grace after painting. This allows the fumes given by the paint to subside. I am cutting it pretty fine at the moment – especially given I need to put on at least two coats, leaving twenty-four hours between each coat!

  Painting is not my thing and I usually find an excuse to avoid it but I was quite happy to paint a hive as it felt somewhat different. There is also a knack to painting a hive as it is often better to paint all the outside at once. When you leave it to dry however, you have to be careful to avoid getting the floor covered in paint or getting the hive stuck to something. Therefore, it is best practice to build a scaffolding platform structure involving two stepladders and a pole between them on which you thread the hive body – it is much like a rotisserie allowing me to spin the hive around and will allow me to paint all sides and let them all dry at the same time.

  With my obvious time constraints I opted for the scaffolding structure, despite it taking over the kitchen for an hour or two. I am not sure Jo will be too keen navigating a scaffolding structure to do anything in here so I will probably lose some brownie points. I really hope I can get this jar of honey to offer some form of payback.

  Having completed the first coat of the brood box and super on the rotisserie it is now a waiting game until I can put on the second coat but fingers crossed the bees don't arrive too quickly as there will be nowhere for them to go.