How I started to keep bees

Twelve years ago, I worked in a homeless hostel just South of London Bridge, not too far from the Tate Modern.  It was during that time that I met a guy who worked for the same charity.  Let's say his name was Richard.  Richard was a senior manager, whilst I was a grunt, trying to promote meaningful occupation to the residents of the hostel.  It was a great job and I met some great people, but that’s another story.

Richard was waiting to meet with the hostel manager.  I was working on the computer in the office.  There was awkwardness  that often occurs when people too many layers of management higher than another are put in close proximity together. It’s similar to the silence that befalls the contents of elevators.  He did not want to speak to me, not wanting to undermine his management colleague, and I did not want to talk to him, fearing I might say something or answer a question in such a way that might get my manager in hot water, and ultimately make me suffer.

 I offered him tea but in the end, the ice had to be broken using a neutral subject.  One finds this in every walk of life.  Strangers are able to open up to one another by talking about neutral childhood experiences or songs that were sung, old TV programmes like Morph, or Bod, He-Man, Thundercats, or Blue Peter spring to mind as fine examples.

So it was we spoke about good news stories related to our work and success that I was having, together with challenges everyone faces when working with homeless people living in difficult circumstances. 
The conversation naturally moved on to discuss meaningful occupation in general when much to my relief; Richard started talking about his own passion for bee keeping.  I was immediately off the hook.

It turned out that Richard had bees in Surrey and also kept bees on the balcony of his flat in London.  He spoke about the different honey he harvested.  He explained that country honey was lighter in colour and was cultivated from mono-crops in the surrounding farm land whereas, London honey was dark and rich more treacle-like and more ‘tropical’; because of the diverse flowers and plants grown in the patchwork of gardens, hanging baskets and window boxes across the city.  

Richard spoke about how when inspecting the frames within his hives and lifting them with the sun shining through from behind, all manner of colour pollens might be seen ranging from yellows, oranges and reds, through blues and purples. I remember being enthralled.

Minutes later, Richard was being shown into the Diamond Managers office and I never saw him again.

Twelve years later in May 2009, I was driving through Herne in Kent.  In the front garden of a bungalow, a man in a white overall bee suite was tending to a hive.  The sun was shining and I stopped the car to watch for a minute or two.  The thoughts of Richard’s story of honey from all those days ago flooded back.

I decided there and then that I would keep bees within the month subject of course to feedback recieved from those close to me.

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