From A to Bee (7 page)

  Still, I am now some way to becoming a beekeeper and I am desperate to get my hands dirty.

The nights are drawing in so quickly and the days are so short there isn't a lot of time to do anything. We put Sebastian to bed and I have come downstairs to think about where I go with my beekeeping. As I sit on the sofa next to the window staring out into the black, only to see my reflection looking back at me (I am not one for pulling the curtains closed too quickly at night), it seems strange to think I have been whipped up into a frenzy of excitement and amazement about these little insects, only to have to wait for a few months before I can actually do anything practical. There is no way of getting bees this late on in the season as it is just too cold outside. According to David, you generally obtain bees two ways: by receiving a swarm, or buying a small hive of bees from a recognised source. Either way, this won't happen until late spring at the earliest so I have to temper this excitement for now and do as much reading around the subject as possible.

  Part of me wishes there had been a spring course so I could have gone out and got involved in the practical elements immediately. Heaven knows where I am going to get my bees from, regardless of whether I opt for a swarm or recognised supplier. Another great reason to sign up to the local association. I shall try to have a chat with some of the people there.

  One thing I am definitely aspiring to next year is this one jar of honey. Apparently, if you get your bees early enough, it shouldn't be too hard, though it isn't a given. Knowing my luck I will probably make a pig's ear out of it and stand no chance of getting that jar of honey at all. If I am lucky enough to fill a jar next year, I should imagine I will celebrate by sharing a freshly toasted slice of bread dripping with my honey with Jo and Sebastian. I couldn't think of any better way to mark the end of the first year.

  I find myself looking around in supermarkets at the honey and considering where it comes from. By this I mean geographically rather than the obvious origin of a beehive, although I would put a bet on the fact that some honey has no link to bees or beehives whatsoever given our ability to create artificial foodstuffs.

  As I look out onto my now-dark garden I can only imagine how wonderful it will be to taste the honey from my own garden. It must be a lovely feeling, knowing that the honey you have on your toast is coming from your own flowers. I wonder if you can taste the flowers. It sounds a strange thought, but as I now know you get different sorts of honey, I wonder if there will be a particular 'James's garden honey' taste.

  I am now resolute, my mind made up, whatever the cost I will make a jar of honey next year. I shall stand next to the hive and order them all to fly just that little bit more, to work just that little bit harder in the hope that I can save face with everyone and enjoy just one single jar! If I am doing this beekeeping malarkey, I have to consider the bees first, of course – but consider my breakfast table a very close second.

Today I managed to sit down and read some of the information I was given by the Reigate Beekeepers' Association which all seems pretty comprehensive. I never realised before what the membership entailed but I am really quite impressed. The cost of membership, for all the added benefits, seems quite reasonable. I am entitled to attend all of the summer and winter meetings and lectures and by the looks of things there are many, not all of them terribly enticing, ranging from AGMs and EGMs to Australian beekeeping talks and candle-making workshops – now what would my friends think of me attending the latter? One did catch my eye though: making mead. That might be a more acceptable course for me to attend and even to gain some respect amongst peers; perhaps after they had enjoyed a few glasses of my homemade brew.

  The fee also includes insurance for up to three beehives; something I didn't realise was required. Apparently you need it on two levels. Firstly, your bees might sting someone who could take issue with it and sue you – though how on earth could anyone prove it was your bee in the first place?! I suppose if they were standing next to the hive then yes, but I can't imagine someone being stung 3 miles away, seeing the dead bee on the floor, examining it and noticing that it had the hallmark of a Dearsley bee! It does seem crazy that you now need insurance against 'your' bees stinging people. What is the world coming to?

  Secondly and on a more serious note, the insurance provides compensation in case you lose your hives. There are some bad diseases (American foul brood is one such disease) where you have to inform a government department immediately. They will send over an inspector who, if it is confirmed, will dig a hole in the ground, put the hives into it and set fire to them. What an awful sight that must be.

  Insurance aside, I know that joining the association is the way to go. For my beekeeping experiences it is obviously right but, personally, I still know very few people locally despite Jo and me moving here over four years ago. This will be a nice way to get to know the locals.

Just realised my membership form is still on the bureau by the door. Note to self: must put a stamp on it and post it!

Jo must have finally got fed up with a letter clogging up the bureau and posted my membership form and cheque today! I wonder what happens from here. The last time I joined a club was when, as a child, I joined the Dennis the Menace Fan Club for about six pence.

  I remember jumping for joy as a Dennis the Menace-themed envelope dropped through the letterbox. For an eight-year old child it was the equivalent of Christmas, receiving a red and black envelope with your name on the front. Inside were two badges but one was extra special: Gnasher's badge which was furry and had those eyes that sat in a little clear Perspex lens and moved around when you shook the badge. I remember wearing it for weeks on end and never wanting to take it off, telling all my mates that I was now a member of the Dennis the Menace Fan Club.

  Not so sure that the Reigate Beekeepers' Association will be sending me through a yellow and black striped envelope with bee-themed badges any time soon but there is the same level of anticipation my end. Having not joined a club for nearly twenty-five years this feels like a big moment for me!

Jo and I have always loved Christmas and this year seems all the more special as it's our first as parents. The tree has been up for a while now, much to Sebastian's interest; he just lies there looking up at the sparkling lights, trying desperately to reach out and grab a bauble. I should imagine it is far better than looking up at the usual array of soft toys.

  For some reason we have decided to cook the family dinner this year. The idea was simple: we wouldn't have to travel with Sebastian, which could have been a challenge. However, it does mean there is the rather complex thought of planning the Christmas dinner for around ten people, all of whom are excellent cooks in their own right. Since Jo will no doubt need to feed Sebastian mid-basting, it means cooking duties are left to me. Heaven knows what will happen and whether the Yorkshire puddings will rise or fall flat, whether the roast potatoes will be crunchy on the outside and fluffy on the inside and whether the gravy will be 'just right'. I am starting the planning now!

  With the decorations out, we are getting ready for the arrival of Father Christmas for Sebastian, and I can only think that it is a magical time of year. It's all the little things about being a father at Christmas which I haven't experienced before that I am looking forward to. Perhaps the highlight will be helping Sebastian put a carrot and mince pie out for Father Christmas and Rudolph by the log stove. I am going to mention, obviously, that Father Christmas will be tremendously thirsty after such a long journey. I am sure Sebastian will help me to pour a small drop of port to quench his thirst and give him a little bit of warmth in that rather rotund tummy of his.

  Thinking of men with beards and round tummies… I wonder what bees do for Christmas? I wonder if they all gather round the centre of the hive for a specially prepared Christmas dinner of honey and extra-special pollen titbits.