My mother used to say to me:
A swarm of bees in May
Is worth a load of hay.
A swarm of bees in June
Is worth a silver spoon
A swarm of bees in July
Is not worth a fly.
Along with sawing off my big toe (no PE either) this was one of my early money making schemes. to try and lassoe a swarm of bees in June into a Quality Street jar.
There was, this week, a car accident in Turkey involving a beehive in a lorry and a car one person was killed. The bees attacked the ambulance and firemen that came to the rescue and a group of beekeepers in white suits had to come and take the wounded way on stretchers. twenty people were went to hospital with bee stings.
Last year I was biking behind a man in a car with bees flying ’round in his car. He had a beekeepers suit on and helmet-he looked like Max in Annie Hall with his sun visor on.
A few years ago I was walking along the path by the river watching a man swimming with his black labrador when a cloud of bees engulfed me. They didn’t hurt me at all and they passed over me like a ghost.
I was playing football with my friends Will and jamie outside the school where I live. Will kicked the ball and a cloud of treacle billowed up from the ground. The bees trickled out of the earth and over the high Edwardian roof of the schoolhouse and poured into a hole in the roof.
My grandfather kept bees and every time one stung my mother he said ‘poor bee. he is dead.’ My mother is alergic to bee stings and her arm goes the size a thigh if she’s stung. My father is too. I am not and i am reassured that like the daughter of the ugliest people in the world in Graham Greene’s short story of the same title she is entirely different.
My beloved cycled through a swarm of bees. He was cycling uphil breathing hard and had to hold his breath.The bees were by the road swarming from a tree.
