OCTOBER 10
After doing some research these last few days, I have decided on my hives. I am going to compare and contrast two hives. One will be the traditional hive known as the National; however, I have decided to go for the larger version, more regularly known as the 14 x 12 which refers to the dimensions of its frames: 14 inches wide by 12 inches tall. Essentially, this is just a little bit bigger than the usual National. Apparently, due to selective breeding, we have prolific egg-laying queens in the UK and this combined with the warmer summers is resulting in larger colonies, so it is recommended to use these larger hives. Overcrowding is one of the commonest reasons for bees swarming early on in the season – and I really don't want that to happen if I haven't got a clue as to what I am doing.
It can be a little bit more difficult to handle at the height of the summer what with the larger frames, they say. A thin wax 'foundation' strip about a millimetre long is connected to a wooden frame and inserted into the beehive. This forms the basis upon which the bees build their comb, in which they put pollen and nectar, and the queen lays her eggs. The resultant weight of its contents and the bees themselves can break the comb when you are lifting it out of the hive, which can result in being covered with bees. If you have seen the Eddie Izzard sketch aptly named 'I'm covered in bees', this is what I am assuming will happen.
I will compare the National hive with the oversized, brightly coloured freezer box. Everyone seems to hate it and so I have to give it a go and see if it really is as bad as everyone makes out. Apparently it is based on an old design called the Dartington hive, but is made out of plastic rather than wood. One thing that is attractive about it is that it is actually two hives rather than one, side by side… But then there is a temptation to have three colonies, rather than two… Help! This is getting addictive!
The other thing about this Beehaus is its marketing. I have to say I have fallen for its tag line: 'With a Beehaus in your garden, you'll soon be saying "Show me the honey!"' How can I deny a space in my garden for this hive if it promises to produce that single jar of honey I am looking for? I can only imagine the bemusement of my neighbours next year when I am shouting to the bees 'Show me the honey!' at the top of my voice like Tom Cruise in Jerry Maguire. As if beekeeping wasn't bad enough, imagine a beekeeper who tries to entice his bees into producing more honey by quoting famous movies at them. Do gardeners do this to produce prize courgettes?
OCTOBER 14
I am sitting here with a nice glass of red wine reflecting on how I never quite realised the long history of beekeeping. At the last session, it was evident that we still use equipment that was introduced back in the 1850s. But man was dependent on the honeybee well before that.
Back in Egyptian times, the Pharaoh himself was the god of honey and honeybees were seen as teardrops from the sun. Honey was also used as currency by the people of ancient Egypt in payment for land rents, and detailed reports were kept of production and payment: the first evidence of organised apiaries.
With reference to the UK in particular there is documented evidence dating back to Roman times and then Anglo-Saxon and Norman times of widespread beekeeping. In a rather cold schoolroom we are learning a hobby for fun that for a long time was very, very serious business with large financial, religious and social considerations. I feel a little bit humbled and think that I should be taking this a lot more seriously than I have started out doing.
It is also quite clear that honeybees have been around far longer than us. And yet now, after many years of exploitation and manipulation to extract as many resources from the hive as possible, the bees are suffering. It makes me feel a little sad to be honest.
OCTOBER 17
While browsing around the Internet for bee-related things, I came across architectural plans for all sorts of beehives and it has got me thinking. Hives aren't exactly cheap and so maybe I could just make myself a hive rather than buy one. It doesn't look too hard to do; after all, essentially it is just a wooden box. The difficult bit looks like it will be the joints – quite fundamental, you might say – and then what they call the open-mesh floor, the bit at the bottom of the hive that the box sits on. It is an open mesh to allow ventilation through the hive but also has some beneficial disease prevention reasons behind it.
I can be quite sentimental at times and so am thinking about trying to get my father involved; that way all three generations of Dearsleys could be involved in my bee exploits. I have fond memories of helping Dad when I was younger. There he was in his workshop, otherwise known as 'the cold bit at the back of the garage', working bits of wood using an elaborate collection of hand tools – never the newfangled electrical gadgets. He would always have his pipe hanging loosely from a corner of his mouth, smoke just dribbling over the sides. Every so often he would stop, stand upright and, while looking up through the only window, remove his pipe, cupped in the palm of his hand, and exhale a dense cloud of smoke. I loved those times and I thought Dad was the world's leading woodwork expert.