From A to Bee (8 page)

Father Christmas dutifully came down our chimney and drank our offerings of a glass of port (it somehow managed to be two glasses in the end!) and ate the mince pie. Rudolph obviously wasn't hungry, however, and only took one bite out of his carrot. Typical isn't it, you try to offer an option of fruit and vegetables and look what happens?

  It was the most lovely day, and indeed the roast potatoes were crunchy, the Yorkshire puddings did rise and the turkey was cooked fantastically well, if I do say so myself. Sebastian was like a dream, if a little bemused why all the family was around, everybody opening presents and acting just a little bit tipsy. I am sure he was even more bemused by the sight of both nannies asleep on the sofa snoring at one point.

  I was also very lucky with my presents and my obvious love for bees and beekeeping has become well known. Jo bought me a lovely bee mug in which I have been having copious cups of tea today. I was hoping for a complete beehive, smoker, bee suit, hive tool, bee brush, solar wax extractor, honey extractor and every other beekeeping contraption known to man. However, Father Christmas was either not aware of such contraptions, was too worried about weighing down his sleigh or he simply couldn't bring himself to get the elves to build such things. Imagine having to go to the elves and state 'James Dearsley from Surrey in England would like a solar wax extractor'. There would be uproar about such a silly piece of equipment and why anyone in their right mind would want such a thing. Oh well, maybe next year!

  I go to bed a very happy man. Primarily because it was my son's first proper Christmas but also because I have a wonderful family, a wonderful home and life couldn't be much better.

Our celebrations on New Year's Eve are always a favourite of mine: celebrating the last year and looking forward to the next. Jo and I also now have a tradition to have a get-together with a group of our closest friends and this year was no different. Suffice to say we always have a lovely evening with the nicest of people; we eat far too much, play silly quizzes – which I always end up losing horrendously – have fabulous and interesting discussions, watch the fireworks and celebrations on TV, all before retiring to have a few more glasses of plonk or something a little bit stronger.

  Another traditional aspect of our New Year's Eve celebrations is the challenges. I can't remember how it came about but several years ago we decided to make ourselves better people that following year.

  I set myself a challenge for last year of making a Heston Blumenthal recipe. With Michelin stars aplenty, he is known to be one of the best chefs in the world with recipes such as snail porridge and mustard ice cream. Having seen a recent programme on the remaking of classic British food in his particular style and then realising there was an accompanying cookbook, I decided that I could do one of them. Earlier this month I realised that I had still yet to complete the challenge and so, for some reason I decided to be the cook on New Year's Eve using Heston's cookbook for inspiration to create a slightly different take on chilli con carne. It took me three days to make and cost me a fortune!

  The pièce de résistance was using dry ice to make a sour cream sorbet to go with the chilli and, oh my, what fun I had with that. We were all there, champagne in hand while I put the sour cream into a mixer and then added dry ice. It was chaos. On went the blender and we were instantly covered in the most amazing smoke, the type you see at rock concerts. But within about thirty seconds I had sour cream sorbet and we were all walking on dry ice smoke clouds. Such a great experience and one I would recommend to anybody.

  The conversation came around to our challenges for the coming year. My mind had obviously already been made up and there was no impulse predicting this year for me as there was last. Some of those around the table were obviously panicking. Matt wanted to start an apple orchard, Neil wanted to act in a Shakespearean play, Jill wanted to watch more silent movies from the 1930s and Jo wanted to learn Italian.

  My turn came, and there was silence around the table. Considering they had just seen me almost break every implement in the kitchen with dry ice in a last ditch attempt to conclude last year's challenge, it was a big moment. It was the moment I had feared: the first time I would admit to the outside world that I was about to become a beekeeper.

  'I would like to become a beekeeper and, with the bees' help, make one jar of honey next year.'

  There was silence.

  Matt eventually went, 'Wow.'

  'Really?' said Jill.

  'Fantastic!' said Neil.

  Jo, whose head was in her hands, started to look up, visibly relieved that we weren't about to be ostracised by some of our closest friends.

  My coming out as a beekeeper had gone well. We proceeded to talk about beekeeping and bees, the troubles they were in and how it affected us, not to mention how honey was made and how I would get a jar next year. Several glasses of port and wine later, we were merrily concocting stories of Italian silent films depicting Hamlet planting an apple orchard and putting beehives around the outside to help pollination. I was happy and I felt I was on my way.

  Happy New Year.

Ouch.

  For the first time I realised that a young child and New Year's Eve do not really work. Despite our going to bed at about 3 a.m. still laughing about Hamlet planting orchards, Sebastian was up at 6.59 a.m. just like clockwork, wanting a feed.

After the overindulgence of New Year's Eve I felt terrible for days, but today is my birthday. I am the grand age of thirty-one and feel a very lucky man. I have a wonderful wife and a lovely little man. I live in a wonderful area of the British Isles and have a nice job that, though it is hard work, stressful and I work long hours, affords me the life I would like to lead. Things do not get too much better but to top it all, Jo got me an amazing present. It is a book entitled
The Beekeeping Bible
and it is 2 feet thick with everything you could ever imagine needing to know about beekeeping inside. Part of Jo's inscription reads: 'Here are a few tips to get your one jar of honey this year.' A few tips??!! It will take me a year just to read the book.

A couple of months ago I decided I would not only chat with beekeepers in the flesh but also with beekeepers in the online community and it seems to be paying off. Originally I felt this would be a little bit weird. For starters I didn't know anything about Facebook, let alone beekeeping, but I am a quick learner.

  I now have more beekeeping 'friends' in the US and Australia, let alone Greece, Turkey, Georgia and Bermuda than I do here in the UK. It seems that most of them have hundreds of hives. Here I am just starting out and aiming to get two! I feel a little bit silly talking to these experienced beekeepers about beekeeping when they seem to know so much.

  As many of you will know, men are the true multitaskers and as I type this I am also having a 'live chat' with a beekeeper from Egypt called Mustafa. I still can't really get my head around it if I am honest and as he types another little message about 'queen rearing' I log off. What the hell is that about? I don't feel at all qualified to answer those sorts of questions.

  Regardless of this latest experience, overall it has been positive so I decided today to join Twitter – a social media platform on the Internet that seems to be getting a lot of publicity at the moment. I had a little look around and there seem to be a lot of beekeepers on there. Let's see what I can learn in 140 characters (the maximum number of characters you can use to write a 'tweet'!). It all sounds a little silly to me but I am now @surreybeekeeper. I really don't know about this… Bring on the spring.

I have so far had a fantastic three months learning all about beekeeping but I am beginning to feel a little frustrated. I really want to get some hands-on experience, if anything just to look inside a hive. How will I feel when I open the roof for the first time – will I be scared? Will I have the nervous excitement of a four-year-old child or will I just be my relaxed self? Ultimately, will I get stung?

  I want to know how it feels to have the bees flying all around you. I want to know how it feels to put on the bee suit (I wonder if it makes you feel invincible or will it just make you feel self-conscious and silly?). I want to remember that I must put elastic bands over my gloves/sleeves to stop bees wandering up them. I want to understand what it must feel like to have a veil on, let alone knowing how I will feel seeing a bee walk across my eyeline, millimetres from my nose. I want to know what the smell is like when you light the smoker for the first time. I want to know if I am brave enough to actually try to pick up a bee, to handle it without hurting it, just to see what they are all about. I want to pick a frame out of the hive as if I've been doing it all my life and check both sides in that sweeping movement that beekeepers make while checking for problems or looking for the queen (apparently if she is present and laying that is generally a sign of good health in the hive). I want to know if I will be able to find the queen when I am looking at thousands upon thousands of other bees…