From A to Bee(70)

I have conjured up a plan to contact the National Trust to see if they could help. I have fond childhood memories of going for walks every Sunday with my father and our dogs but I am not sure whether it was the walks that I enjoyed or the warmth of the pubs we frequented when we had finished. Occasionally we would walk over a patch of National Trust land that was covered with heather. I have no memory of where this was exactly but it couldn't be too far away. I could have hit on a goldmine here; a light bulb had lit above my head.



I have tweeted the National Trust PR team, who have recently signed up to Twitter (@nationaltrust), to see if they can help and I will also call the regional office tomorrow to find out if they can put me in contact with the right people who may know where this land is. Given they are well-known supporters of the beekeeping movement, as I know some of their properties currently have beehives, I have my fingers crossed. Surely placing one of my beehives in an expanse of their heathland cannot be too much to ask, although I suppose an organisation like that would require lots of health and safety regulations. That could be a headache. Let's hope not.





AUGUST 17



As I logged on this morning there it was, a tweet back from the National Trust: 'Hi @surreybeekeeper, we would love to help you if we can', and they then proceeded to email me the number for their regional office and the name of the person to speak to.



I phoned the office and having got passed around a couple of times I ended up speaking to the head gardener of Polesden Lacey, a most beautiful property not far away, with gardens designed by Capability Brown. I knew that they had just put a hive in the gardens there and we started out talking about that. He sounded fascinated by the project and was obviously enjoying having the hive in the gardens. I took my chance and explained my predicament and it was obvious from the outset he had some sympathy for my cause and stated he was keen to help if he could. However, he did not have any control over that particular area of the National Trust. He thought it sounded like Frensham Ponds, which rings a bell with me and is in the area that Dad and I used to walk – I must check this with him later.



He offered to email the head warden for that area, which I was really thankful for and, as luck would have it, he is apparently a very keen beekeeper. I also managed to get his phone number. I couldn't believe my luck; this was looking better and better. I just hope he will allow me to put my hive on their land.



Perhaps, just perhaps, there may be a way I can get this elusive jar of honey.





AUGUST 18





'What a Difference a Day Makes' was the first dance at my wedding and it is rather apt here too. I have gone from literally being unbelievably down in the dumps to being excited once more. This is all to do with the prospect of my one jar of honey.



Having waited twelve hours for the head warden to email me, I decided to take matters into my own hands and call him up as I wasn't sure how much time I had left. The last thing I wanted was to get the OK, to move my hive and then to realise that the heather had finished flowering.



I got through immediately and introduced myself. Fortunately he hadn't been ignoring me; he just hadn't checked his emails for the last twenty-four hours. What a way to live your life; I have become far too dependent on them and it takes someone like this to jolt you out of your little world.



I started to give him the quick précis of what was going on as I had done yesterday but I reckoned I had now got my pitch down to a T, keen but not too desperate, and tried to big up the National Trust for helping me. I even got to the point of saying he couldn't refuse on the principle of helping a fellow beekeeper – OK, perhaps that did sound a little bit desperate.



Once I had got through my five-minute diatribe on why I needed help, he simply responded, 'What a fabulous idea! I am sure we can help.' I LOVE THE NATIONAL TRUST!!! He then proceeded to tell me not to think about the original area I had considered for various reasons but another area, which I was familiar with but not aware of its heather credentials; the Devil's Punch Bowl near Haslemere. The reason he knew this to be such a good area was that he lived there, and just a short walk away from his home were several hectares of flowering heather. My heart was beating far faster than usual and I felt on top of the world.



Until this moment I had kissed the jar of honey goodbye and now the door was back open again to hopefully get something out of the year. I had genuinely never thought I would get this reaction from the National Trust and had feared it being a little bureaucratic in its outlook. Here I was however, with not only an answer but a positive answer at that and all within a ten-minute phone call.