Comedy beekeeping and the river to Clayhithe

Yes, another of those posts about the tedious details of my life that you care nothing about. And also an advert for my honey, hurrah.


In the middle you’ll see my beehive. I’ve finally done most of the honey-related stuff this year (see-also previous bee blogging) so if you live nearby and care to purchase some finest quality Stoat honey with only a few bits of dead bee in it, please email. This year it does seem to be rape, judging by the speed at which it sets. The “comedy” aspect of the beekeeping was the way I managed to stumble around knocking the supers nearly off as I tried to get the lid on. Fortunately the ladies seem quite well behavined, even the one that sneaked into my suit. The kitchen is still full of odd bits of comb waiting to be melted down (I fail again: I left them for a week or more with an empty upper super, so of course they filled it full of beautiful comb which I must destroy, alas).

Saturday saw we few venture off downriver over Baits Bite lock in the Four of Death (drumroll). We didn’t get as far as Bottisham – it was rather windy and the last stretch down there didn’t tempt, unlike Tanya’s coffee which did, since she was moored just before the bridge. And she even gave us chocolate cake, and a second cup of coffee when it rained. So we could truthfully say we had a 3 1/2 hour outing, even if some of it wasn’t on the water. And bits of the rowing were good, and even the unbalanced bits weren’t dreadful. Steven turned out to be a perceptive coach, though I’m not going to straighten my arm, sorry. But full marks for spotting it :-).

Oh, and Brian’s latest is good.

I forgot to mention that today was fathers day, and I got breakfast in bed courtesy of Miranda and Eve, with a menu and a card too, and a chocolate coin.