Wee Willie Winkie

There is a long association between beekeeping and the church. Quite aside from the biblical reference and drawing of bees on cans of Lyle's Golden Syrup (the cheek!), monasteries and nunneries usually kept their own apiaries, and many clerics were beekeepers. The movable-frame hive was perfected by Rev. Lorenzo Lorraine Langstroth in 19th century USA, and the Langstroth hive, or minor variants of it, is the predominant one in use today worldwide. The only real "brand" name in contemporary bee breeding is "Buckfast" - from the Benedictine Abbey in Devon - where brother Adam (I'm not making this up) developed a strain of gentle, productive bees, and where his work continues today. (Buckfast is also renound for a certain tonic wine, about which I claim no knowledge!)

Bees were, of course, the primary source of sweetener prior to the availability of refined sugar. However, equally important for the church was a plentiful supply of beeswax. Beeswax candles burn brighter and with much less smoke than the alternative of tallow. The social status aspect of candles was much wider: expensive beeswax was for the church and gentry, smelly tallow and dirty walls for the peasants. The designs of the molds for these candles are "Church 1" and "Church 2"

Mrs M is the candle-maker here; my role is spare pair of hands and occasional strong pull. These are utility candles to get us through the power cuts that are coming this winter, so the wax is not as refined as it might be for presents or sale; there are spots and blemishes that will remind us of the messy business of wax processing when we burn them in the depth of winter. At the same time, the rich, warm smell will take us out of cold winter nights, back to hot summer afternoons, sweating in a bee suit in a cloud of puzzled buzzing

The title comes from a much-loved childhood bedtime book, which had a cover picture of Wee Willie running around the town with a nightcap and an impractical candle in hand. The original Scottish, Victorian poem laments exasperation with loved, but restless, children

The world keeps turning