From A to Bee (20 page)

I am beginning to worry. Did I actually order any bees or was I imagining it? Time is creeping by and each and every week, during my practical sessions at the local association, I see colonies getting stronger (with the exception of our one). I hear of swarms being caught and given to other beginners. I also hear of others who have picked up their nucs and successfully moved them to their own hives and I am feeling a little left out. Here I am, my hive is built and in position and the other one is on the way, and yet I still have one major component missing: bees.

  Imagine the embarrassment of hives with no bees. I couldn't make my one pot of honey without them. Hopefully I will hear something soon.

I am stuck in another hotel room as the corporate world has cruelly taken me away from the family and the prospect of bees for another Saturday. I was looking forward to preparing the area for the Beehaus beehive. Surely it can only be days away now, and it's such fun thinking what could be happening very soon, but there is still no sign of the bees and concern is growing by the hour. I have emailed the beekeeper supplying them to find out what is going on.

  However, all is not lost. I am here in Poland and with bees constantly on my mind, even in this rather dejected and run down city of Lodz (pronounced 'woodge' for some strange reason), I have had some contact with bees and beekeepers.

  I took my staff out for a meal last night and, as is so often the case at the moment, conversation switched to bees. I then learned that the Polish for bees is
pszczola
, or something like that, and please never ask me to pronounce it. Then I got dragged to yet another bar which I have to say, despite most people's thoughts of this former communist state complete with pot holes in the road (true), tractors driving down city streets (true) and rather bland but many government buildings (also true), was amazing. The Beer Hall was the literal translation. Something akin to a jazzy London bar and not at all what I was expecting.

  I got marched to the bar where they started talking enthusiastically in Polish. I can get a grasp of most languages and I thought, given the number of Poles in London (after Warsaw, London is Poland's second largest city by population of Polish people), I might understand the odd word – not a chance. Complete gobbledygook. Regardless of what they were saying, in front of me appeared the most fabulous-looking golden beer. The guys pronounced proudly that this was 'honey beer'. Great, I thought, you can even make beer from bees! My newest hobby has now reached new levels. It has no negatives thus far and I have to say the beer was fantastic save its head, which was almost as high as the rest of the beer itself.

  Fast forward to today and having been part of an exhibition which was conducted 100 per cent in Polish I was feeling a little bit like a spare part – not to mention a teeny weeny bit hung over (after the euphoria of the honey beer we had decided to try the whiskey bar down the road and eventually got asked to leave at about 4 a.m., and only then did we realise that we were the only ones left in the place – it seems my ability to drink whiskey has dramatically improved this year!). I therefore decided to go for a walk around the complex – imagine a massive World War Two aircraft hangar painted a rather dashing yellow and blue colour – and to my surprise and pleasure, I found they had a flower market outside.

  It was incredible with the most amazing variety of plants on sale and all unbelievably cheap. I thoroughly enjoyed looking around and then, to my complete astonishment a clapped-out, flea-bitten camper van grabbed my attention. With its boot door open they had a small stand selling none other than Polish honey. With the rather primitive sign showing a honeybee flying around and the fact that he only had about four jars left (I would like to think that he had sold all of the rest but maybe he hadn't actually sold any) it looked so fantastic I had to go and check it out.

  The two gentlemen, who looked a little bemused at the presence of this suited and booted Englishman approaching, were in their fifties, had greying hair and the most fantastic black-as-night moustaches you could ever hope to see. Honestly, it was as if they had been growing their moustaches since they were twenty, as there was just a mass of hair wedged between their upper lip and nose. I would bet they haven't been kissed for decades as a lady wouldn't even get close to their lips.

  Given the fact that I had had absolutely no luck trying to speak to Polish people so far, I felt I should give it another go here and try to strike up a conversation about bees with these guys. This was after all the country where 'modern' beekeeping began with Johann Dzierzon. The blueprint of his hive design back in 1838 formed the basis of many of the hive designs used today. I was hoping that our mutual love of bees might see me through the lack of mutual language if they didn't speak English. As I approached, waving perhaps overenthusiastically and said hello, my fears were pretty much confirmed. They looked at me blankly and their lips and moustaches hardly flinched as they said
'czesc',
or hello, back to me. My 'How are you? I am a beekeeper too' was perhaps a step too far. More blank stares as the two of them just stood there.

  My attempts at sign language were also a bit lame and I felt beaten back by the moustaches. For some reason they didn't understand me when I pointed at myself and then ran around for a bit buzzing away and then pointed at the honey. I think it must have been the suit as other people were now stopping to watch. The look they were all giving me was not dissimilar to the look that Sebastian often gives me when I run around him buzzing. Maybe nineteen-month-old children and Polish gentlemen with monster moustaches have more in common than you might think.

  I stopped, resigned to the fact it was never going to work. Having spent all my zlotys I couldn't even buy a jar of honey, which looked a fabulously dark colour. I left defeated but as I bid them farewell, one lifted an arm as if to wave while the other uttered
'pozegnanie'
, which means goodbye. I felt I had finally connected but it may just be that they were glad to see the back of this rather crazy Englishman. As I walked away, I did turn back for one last look at these moustached Polish beekeepers and they were just looking at each other with a rather strange expression; one then shrugged whilst the other started laughing. I must have made some sort of impression. I am just not sure whether it was a good one.

The experience of dealing with Polish people and their impressive moustaches is over and I am now back in the UK. It looked like the weather would hold and so Jo and I decided to pop over to RHS Wisley again as it's only about half an hour from us. We were aiming to go to areas of the garden that we hadn't been to before, including a fantastic tree that is flowering at the moment, which is quite a rare event. It is called a 'handkerchief tree' because its flowers are like handkerchiefs. When the wind picks up it is beautiful and elegant to look at and it gives off a faint and delicate aroma that is simply magical. Visiting Wisley is quite a strange thing for me. I leave it feeling inspired, jealous and a little bit humbled. What they do there is simply incredible and my hat comes off to the gardeners there – their attention to detail is second to none.

  As we were walking through the allotment area, something I am always keen on doing, we came to the lettuces which, though so simple, were out of this world. They alternated green and red varieties and as I was looking at them, drooling somewhat, Jo said under her breath as if in disbelief, 'They are all identical in size and the straightest lines I have ever seen.' It was an incredible display and crikey, these were just lettuces.

  Other particular favourites of mine at this time of year are rhododendrons and azaleas. Sebastian evidently loved them as well and it was only then that I realised he had the eyesight of a fighter jet pilot. Every five seconds he would shout out 'bee' and then get all excited. There in amongst the exquisite flowers were bees, darting around from flower to flower making my son's head swing wildly from side to side as if he was at Wimbledon watching the tennis. Jo and I were just smiling and watching the simple pleasure he was getting from watching these small insects buzzing around. The words 'like father, like son' were uttered and I couldn't agree more. It was really lovely to watch, but even lovelier to see him excited by them and also knowing what they were. OK, the fact that later he thought a woodlouse was a bee as well was neither here nor there…

  We all went and had a great lunch and then finished the visit off in the library. The people there are always helpful, and today was no exception. As I returned one of my borrowed books about bees, the lady behind the counter saw Sebastian and recommended to us the bee books in the children's section. Things so often missing these days: a mixture of good service and knowing what people want. Sure enough, in the collection of books about insects, bugs and all things creepy crawly were some about bees. Sebastian immediately shouted 'Bee!' at the top of his voice, much to the amusement of others in the library, and then proceeded to read the book from cover to cover.

  We came away with two more books on loan including Sebastian's bee book, and all very happy and fulfilled – what a great day out as a family.

Another week and still no bees and no word back yet. I will try to call the supplier of the nucleus this week I think to see just what is going on. I have a primary concern of actually getting them but a secondary concern that if I am able to magic them up from somewhere, they will have to quickly make enough honey for me to actually get a jar.

  I am starting to put the word out that I would like to get a swarm. I suppose it is covering all bases, and should my second hive arrive I'll want another lot of bees. There seem to be a few people who are offering to help me out and given the weather of the last couple of days, by far the best of the year so far, this week could be a busy week because bees will swarm in good sunny weather. I will contact them directly this week.

  The irony of all this is that I am actually really nervous about having my own bees. Any time now I could be getting a phone call that my bees are ready to go. I am not sure that I am quite ready for that level of responsibility. It is a funny sensation being excited on the one hand, frustrated at not having them on the other and then exceedingly nervous at the same time!

  All in all, this is a pivotal week and I predict by the end of it I may actually have become a beekeeper and not one that is just pretending. My days of being a theoretical beekeeper will have ended.