From A to Bee (19 page)

After the most amazing April when we Brits were out sunbathing, making sure that lobster colour was on full show, the bank holiday weekend brought awful weather – just when my shed needs to be built! It always happens in the UK, just when it looks like we are going to have three nice days off the weathermen decide that this weekend will be terrible.

  Having just bought a fantastic new hat for garden duties (the last one died after we thought the snowman's head was cold last winter, it was never the same again), I was ready to stroll out to the allotment with tools in hand to build the shed. The clouds looked a little gloomy but nothing was likely to happen. It takes all of two minutes for me to walk to the allotment and I felt especially good today knowing that it was highly likely I would have my Man Shed up by the end of play. Despite Jo calling it a Wendy House, thanks to its previous use as a children's playhouse when the old neighbours owned it, I have labeled it the Man Shed. In truth it will be where I store my beekeeping equipment, as its preferred location is next to where I think I will pop the beehives. I never thought I would have a shed to put all my beekeeping equipment in like Anne, my old beekeeping next-door neighbour, but here is my opportunity if only I could get a nice weekend.

  As I opened the front door and stepped outside, the heavens opened. I literally mean horizontal rain, the sort only witnessed in the Amazon. I soldiered on, not to be put off, with the true British spirit of 'Don't worry, it's only a shower'. I arrived at the allotment and the foundations I had already laid, and tried to put up one side of the shed. It was all constructed and so was basically a case of putting nails into the four sides and roof. The first of the sides promptly fell back into the hedge and almost took me with it. Saturated, I gave in, acknowledging that I would need a bit of help here, and trudged back to the house in a strop. It was highly unlikely I would get the shed up at all due to the bad weather and lack of help. This was not good news as I needed somewhere to store things like extra frames and supers near the beehives for easy access. I am not sure I would be allowed to keep this sort of stuff in the house.

  Back at home with a cup of tea to lift my spirits, I started to have a look at the bee frames. These needed to be built in the next week as I could get the call anytime to go and collect my bees. The first thing I realised was just how many little bits of wood there were! Only two hours ago I was getting angry at the four large parts of ridiculously heavy shed while being pelted with Amazonian rain. Here I was messing around with small fiddly bits of plywood and 15 or 20 millimetre nails (the size depends on where they go on the frame) which, quite frankly, I couldn't even hold, let alone hammer into a frame. Oh I am not in a good mood today.

  A dry run got underway and with the exception of putting the wax in the wrong way, forgetting the order the wood is meant to fit together and forgetting that I actually needed to put nails in, I didn't think I did too badly. The wax was only slightly warped and the wood was only slightly out of place. I decided to do the rest this evening once Sebastian has gone to bed.

I must just offer some advice. If you want to survive to a ripe old age, don't build bee frames late on a Saturday night, watching football on TV, drinking beer while your wife is having a little kip on the sofa. My activities weren't well received. It was amazingly productive, though, and almost all of the frames were built and with only a few mistakes.

  Very kindly and quite unexpectedly, my mum and dad came over this morning to help me with the Man Shed. The rain was again lashing down. We made our way to the allotment with all the kit and I have to say, it wasn't too bad in the end. The whole job must have taken about an hour and a half with only a few minor disagreements. I would say that about an hour and a quarter of that however was spent fixing the foundation that I had laid but despite all of this my allotment now had a Man Shed; a place I can escape to or at the very least store my beekeeping equipment.

  I walked away from the allotment very wet but happy and very appreciative of the help I received from my folks. I wonder if in thirty years Jo and I will be doing the same thing for Sebastian?

No news yet about the bees. I am hoping it won't be too long as I need to get a wriggle on if I am to get this jar of honey. It is looking less likely each day as I had been expecting a call or some contact by now.

  I took the finished frames (complete with protruding nails, where I realised pretty early on that using 20 millimetre nails was the wrong thing to do in certain areas, and that was the reason that the instructions suggested 15 millimetres) up to the allotment. My beehive is currently situated behind the shed, facing south-east, which means it will get the sun pretty early on; very important, I am led to understand.

  With the frames in the hive, I realised I had stupidly not made enough. I had put in ten and needed eleven. I also realised I was lacking yet another piece of equipment; the dummy board; quite apt really. This is half the size of a frame, and slips into supers and brood boxes and, once removed, allows you to manipulate the frames a little easier. The itinerary of hive-making parts is never-ending. I must write a list next time.

  Now, in theory, despite a tiny bit of equipment and a quick repaint in some areas, hive one is ready and I just have to wait for the Beehaus to arrive – said to be the end of the month. Exciting times.

  I was thinking today about the bees I will be getting and looked at the map to see how far away they were. It looks like a 15-mile journey to collect them and then, apparently, I pick them up in a little wooden box and drive them back. The thought of driving with bees frightens me; what on earth happens if they escape?

  I would think usual, flat roads would be OK and wouldn't disturb the bees too much, but the last 800 yards will be a nightmare. Our farm track has more holes and divots than a golf course. I can only think that I will have to get out and walk up the road with them. The alternative of 5,000 bees all bouncing around before release isn't particularly palatable, especially as I will be in the firing line!

  As everything is becoming more of a reality, I find I am already being a little reflective on the year so far. When I first started I felt almost embarrassed by the fact that I was going to be a beekeeper. As the year has gone on I am becoming more proud of the fact each day. Back at the start of the year I was even questioning myself on exactly what I was doing. I didn't expect everyone to be quite so interested, asking how I am getting on and seeming genuinely intrigued by it all.

  Yesterday, Jo and I went over to Paula's (our next-door neighbour's) house for a quick drink to welcome Jo and Nicky. There are only four houses where we live, so it's nice to meet up every so often. We got talking about gardening, as I am often up early tending the garden before work which most people find slightly odd, and then the natural progression was to mention that I was becoming a beekeeper and that there would be a couple of hives up the lane.

  They were fascinated by it and they all volunteered to 'look after them' when we go away – not sure it is the same as looking after the cat but still a very nice gesture. We spent the next half an hour discussing bees and I started to churn out all the information that I had learned; this only intrigued them more. At the end of the evening, a honeybee must have heard she was being talked about and flew in the open window. What a lovely coincidence.

  This sort of thing has been happening at weddings and dinners we have been to, or just down the pub talking to mates of mine. Everyone seems genuinely interested and keen to learn more (much more so than when I start to talk about sweet peas or dahlias!). I have therefore decided to buy a second bee suit so that when people come over to visit, I can take them up to the hive during my inspections. What a lovely experience to share.

I have just come back from another war story session at the local pub with the beekeepers, having done another practical session at the apiary. This time they were more concerned with discussing politics and the upcoming general election than beekeepers being stung in the eye. My theory about last week being an initiation ceremony still stands. I can only presume we have passed the test and have been accepted.

  I wonder what the initiation ceremonies would be like if universities had beekeeping clubs? Would they consist of being stung in the eye, going into an apiary naked covered in honey or maybe just having to recreate the bee beard?

  Anyway, it really was a fascinating session this week and I probably learned more than ever before. Of the eight or nine hives that the association uses at the apiary, we have undoubtedly the 'most rubbish' hive – which is how it has been described on several occasions. Not only is it a very small and weak colony, but it's also in the oldest and most dilapidated-looking hive on a very small hive stand. With most of our group similar in height to me, this rather small hive is rather tricky to deal with as well.

  I won't bore you with the details, but the queen hasn't been laying for a few weeks and there is a concern that the colony won't survive. Adam came over to debate the issues we were having about bumping the queen off. After some jiggery pokery involving a frame of eggs from elsewhere, we decided to leave it to the bees to decide what to do. A frame of eggs may incentivise the remaining bees to raise a new queen and so we left them to it, hoping for the best.

  It is quite funny, when I am in the apiary even if the wind blows on my fingertips I feel like jumping 10 feet high, fearing I have been stung. I visualise the day when I get stung holding a frame of bees. Knowing me and my rather overstated reactions, my arm will suddenly fly up and the frame will crash to the ground. I think the next thing people would see is me running towards the nearest pond and jumping in followed by hundreds of bees flying after me.

  It was good to finish the evening with a nice pint down the local pub, a head filled with knowledge and enthusiasm still flooding out.