Read Online From A to Bee by James Dearsley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Dearsley
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guilty for hounding him. The reason he wasn't getting back to me was because his eldest child was in hospital and it's also the reason why he wants to give up his bees. Despite the fact there was no way of me knowing this, I still feel terrible and I have to take my foot out of my mouth. I apologised as I think Steve took my enthusiasm (and looking back, frustration) the wrong way. My naivety has shown through like a beacon of light especially in the online world of Twitter where all your comments can be seen by everybody and 140 characters doesn't give you a lot of time to explain your comments! I don't suppose messages like 'Hello Steve, are you there? I am dying to hear from you' or 'Hello Steve, have you disappeared?' are too rude but when you put them in context with what he is going through, it probably wasn't the most sensitive of things to write. I think I can rule out getting bees from him now as I could tell from the text he had written that I had really annoyed him. I didn't dare ask him if I could still have his bees.
  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 â whether there are any local diseases, what the honey flow is like â 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
  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 â whether there are any local diseases, what the honey flow is like â 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
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