Barbecue Queen.

Today was one of my busier days.

We have an annual jamboree in the Glen, I went down to help set things up and deliver some goodies and then had to leave for a bee meeting. There is a new bee club about thirty miles away and their secretary was our host. I must have said many times that you judge a beekeeping club by the standard of the teas they provide, today we were given lunch. It had been unanimously decided that it was too cold to open any colonies so we set to with the BBQ. It was one of those mobile ones, but of an unconventional design incorporating some roofing slates to stop the tyre from burning (too much). It was our own dearly beloved lady president who took charge of what is normally considered to be man’s work. She burnt the sausages to perfection; I, personally quality checked four of them to ensure that they were of a uniform standard and my judgement was verified by several other members.

Our host, as is common with beekeepers in their early years, is keen on experimenting. Older members of the fraternity realise that this is expensive, and requires an awful lot of storage space for the paraphernalia. In this apiary, the new fangled polystyrene hives featured in the first extra are favoured (this year), previously it was a wooden variant that held sway; the middle colony of the three is undergoing the transmogrification that the other two completed earlier in the year. The slate bearing the designation “Iris” indicates the name of the queen inside, the naming the lady of the hive seems to be a local practice, a near neighbour uses names from the Addams family.

The second extra shows our host’s perverse sense of humour.