Even so I go to bed a very proud father.
FEBRUARY 18
One of the lessons I was taught during the beekeeping course was to speak to your local beekeepers. At some point, because of the fact that your bees will be flying up to 3 miles to collect food, there will be the inevitable mid-air collisions, turf wars and bees getting jealous of each other's queens being prettier than theirs. Perhaps, more seriously, speaking to local beekeepers is out of politeness, communication and support networks. However, the most important reason is to know the local issues that may affect your bees and what their bees are doing – whether there are any local diseases, what the honey flow is like – and simply to avoid any surprises. I might also ask them to tell me about the local crops to avoid another field spotting road trip.
I know of two beekeepers near me who I feel I should make contact with. Both are probably within half a mile of where I am planning to put my bees. One lives in a fantastic house in the heart of the village, apparently runs seven hives and sells his honey to villagers. The other beekeeper is situated at the fabulous farm shop at the bottom of our small, bump-ridden, car-killing road. He runs several hives at the shop and sells the honey there. I originally thought it was the lovely lady at the shop who always takes a shine to Sebastian who made the honey, but when I asked she informed me that it was in fact a commercial beekeeper. Yikes! Was this guy really going to want to talk to me? He was obviously a very serious, experienced and commercial beekeeper; a far cry from my humble beginnings with no hive yet to speak of. She gave me his number to call.
It's funny but I felt quite nervous about trying to get hold of them as I simply didn't know what to expect. Here was I, this young, enthusiastic, naive, new guy trying to say hello (wasn't sure what else to say!) to these super-human beekeepers who have probably been doing it for years.
Anyway, this afternoon I spent some time drafting a nice, polite letter to the owner of the big house in the village, complimenting him on the fact that I noticed he has a nice garden (I couldn't really think what else to say) and just saying hello. I felt writing a letter was more polite than just turning up on their doorstep, so we will see. I popped it in the postbox. Derek was the name given to me by the lady at the farm shop and, as I had no address for him, I felt I should probably call him. Tentatively I tried this evening, not really knowing what to expect. The phone rang and a polite but firm voice answered, and so I responded. 'Hi Derek, my name is James,' I said, 'and I would like to have some hives near the farm in Newdigate, please.'
Though I nervously blurted it out, he was very nice about it all but admittedly he was worried at first that I just had this crazy idea to start beekeeping. This isn't too far from the truth, but he was relieved to hear that I had done a course and was obviously serious about it all. I suppose if a local beekeeper is inexperienced or doesn't tend his or her bees well it affects everyone locally so I can understand his reaction. After the initial awkwardness and inquisition, it was quite enlightening to speak to a beekeeper that had thirty hives, and it once again makes it all feel a little bit more real. He invited me to see his hives when he checks them in April – how exciting.
FEBRUARY 21
I have become used to sitting in front of a roaring fire, drinking either red wine or home-made cider, to write my diary. Tonight, however, it is being rudely interrupted by an airport lounge in Newcastle. Corporate life has taken me away up north where it is very very cold.
Having been stuck here for a couple of hours now, this post is being written while I wait in a lovely, colourful, inspiring departure lounge, not a drop of alcohol in sight, full of happy people filled with smiles from ear to ear – can you tell the hint of sarcasm here? We have just been told by a rather large man in a fluorescent jacket that they 'are currently assessing the runway to see if it is safe to fly due to the snowy conditions'! Everyone has their heads stuck firmly into books or devices which look suspiciously like iPhones (wish I had one), or devices that wish they were iPhones.
Due to my current situation, I thought I would just reflect on something that happened yesterday and today.
(Just been told we can board – hurray!!)
Yesterday was the day to finish the final 10 per cent of the willow haircut (or massacre). Bob, the man mountain, joined me in the afternoon and we got on with the job at hand. My God, I had forgotten how hard it is to keep on bending over and picking up willow.
(OK, well, I have boarded, am sitting on a seat which, being 6 foot 5 inches, means my knees are by my ears and the computer is somewhere under my nose, and have just been told that with the snow coming down we may not be able to fly… Ho hum.)