The Beekeeper

This one is a beekeeper, a middle-aged to elderly man, who liked me at first sight.

I first met him at Nessie’ s house where we were to help with taking the honey. He was disappointed I did not go to the hives with him, but was doing an indoor job instead. When the work was done, he had a cup of tea in the kitchen, while I tried to ask some intelligent questions about beekeeping. Nessie later remarked that he was not a very bright man, with little sense for beekeeping – he has sixty hives – , but working hard.

Some time later he spotted me from his car in the neighbouring village and stopped beside me. We had a casual chat, at the end of which I asked him to look at our hive when it was convenient. He duly turned up, frightening my little daughter by his looks. As he was leaving again, he said he would like me for company on his journey to Kent where he was placing forty of his hives. However, I had other things to do.

He came once more. My father-in-law gave me the message that my “beekeeper friend” had been. After that, our relations cooled off. We met him once in the wood where I asked him to find a cheap beehive for me. He said “will do”, but I have not heard any more.

I see him occasionally at beekeeper meetings and normally exchange one or two words with him.