That's not how I'd go about it

I took my first honey crop in the May of 2017.  There had been a significant acreage of oilseed rape around the village and the bees had made good use of it to produce an early honey crop.  It's not the finest of honeys because it is prone to crystallising within hours of extraction, but it was our first crop and we were just delighted to see the honey pour from the extractor.*

Later in the Summer I was approached by an acquaintance that had heard that I had some bees.  He had a hive up in his Orchard and wondered if I would be willing to extract some honey from his hive.  He offered up half of the crop by way of a reward and I agreed ... What could possibly go wrong?

On the agreed date** I loaded up the Defender with my beekeeping kit and drove up to his orchard which is close to the tower that overlooks the village.  We wandered over to the hive and I was presented with a very scruffy WBC hive that was sat on a wooden platform some 3' above ground level.

I suited up, lit my smoker and clambered up on to the platform to open up the hive.  The owner had already informed me that he followed a hands off approach to beekeeping and this was apparent as soon as I managed to wrestle the roof from the hive.  

The WBC hive is the traditional English beehive that most people tend to picture when asked to imagine a hive.  It is a double walled design, with outer walls surrounding and protecting the hive that sits within.  

This hive had not been inspected for months, if not years.  It was apparent that ill-fitting supers and frames had been added at some point and these had created gaps that had allowed the bees to colonise the space between the inner hive and the outer walls.  This space was crammed with honey-filled comb and bees.

I could see that the colony was healthy enough, but it was clear that the owner had no spare equipment and neither did he seem to have any desire to take any care of the colony.  I therefore advised him that I would only take one of the two supers for a harvest and that was on the understanding that he returned the super to the hive to give the colony the space it needed.

After a bit of work with the hive tool I managed to break the super free from the hive.  As I did this it became apparent that the outer hive was starting to rot.  I upgraded my advice from "inspect them and give them more space" to "move them in to a new hive".  I lifted the honey filled super from the manky hive and stepped back ... I had forgotten that the hive was 3' off the ground and found myself falling with a 25 lb super in my hands.  As I landed, the super crushed the top of one of my fingers and my pride was somewhat bruised too.

To cut a long story short, the honey was extracted and I received a bottle of wine, a leg of lamb and nearly eight pounds of honey in payment.  I also ended up with a broken finger and several hours of work to clean the extractor after this harvest. 

Funnily enough, I hadn't really heard from him again until I bumped in to him earlier this week.   He asked how my bees were doing and I asked how his were, in return.  He advised that the colony had died out a couple of years after we had taken the harvest.  He had cleared the hive and bought a new colony from a local semi-professional beekeeper.  The semi-pro had advised this chap to inspect the hive every eight days, but this chap seemed to take a perverse pleasure in advising that he hadn't looked at them since introducing them to the hive.

I really don't understand why this chap has bees.  He takes no care of them.  He doesn't need them for pollination of his orchard as there are ample local colonies to perform this service.  I just don't get it!

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* I had borrowed a hand cranked extractor and all the other extracting paraphernalia from Doctor H; Village Idiot's son and heir.

** 30th July 2017 ... I knew my beekeeping notes would be of use eventually.

A glimmer of hope?

Late in the afternoon the 'phone rang.  I answered and found myself talking to a rather excited 30%.  It appears that the daughter of the owner of the cottage we like has tracked her down on FaceBook and sent her a message saying that her mum wants to sell her house to us and is willing to give us a little more time to see if we can sell The Pile.

30% spoke to the daughter this evening and it appears that her mum really liked how we responded to her home and felt that we were really suited to it.*  She has the flexibility to give us more time and is willing to do so. Apparently she has received another offer, but has rejected it in favour of ours.

As the title of today's entry states, this is only "a glimmer of hope", as we still need to get a Buyer for The Pile.  We did have a viewing today, but we have yet to receive any feedback.

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* Maybe our bees bring us luck?  When we spoke to the seller we mentioned that the orchard and paddock would be perfect for the hives and she instantly responded that her father had kept bees.  It's a little odd how keeping bees seems to lead to all sorts of new encounters and relationships.  I even had my Boss ping me over the weekend to ask for advice about a bumblebee nest in his garden.

Who turned the heating off?

This week it has been reported that we have had the sunniest Spring on record.*

Today's weather was therefore something of a shock.  I awoke to a grey sky and drizzle with temperatures ten degrees** lower than they were yesterday.  It was cold and depressing after the glorious sunshine of May and breakfast was eaten inside rather than in the garden.

There is little to report for today.  The cooler weather meant that the dogs could have an afternoon walk around the Three Miler.  I also dragged the porn mower from the shed and endured forty minutes of fine rain as I tidied up a damp lawn in preparation for tomorrow's viewing. 

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*  Also the eighth warmest and fifth driest.

**  Celcius 

A quieter day

For the first time in a week it was a fairly normal day.  I got annoyed wth fuckwits at work and seemed to spend most of my time either placating people, who had been upset by Colleague R, or stopping him from making mountains out of molehills.

There were no house selling, emotional roller-coaster events, although the Agent did get a call from a potential buyer who advised that he'd be willing to come and have a look, provided that we were willing to accept twenty to thirty thousand less than the asking price, and that was only if the house didn't need any work doing to it.  Our Agent informed him that this was an unusual approach to house buying and that it was unlikely to get him a viewing appointment.  We all agreed that he could go and fuck himself!*

We do have another viewing on Thursday, so it looks like tomorrow will be mostly cleaning and tidying.

I did also brighten up the outside of the house by planting the raised bed with marigolds.  This has become an annual event over the past few years.  The bed is situated alongside the footpath and the orange of the marigolds add a welcome splash of colour to this rather austere aspect of the property.  The locals seem to love  it and are always very complimentary when they see us preparing and planting out the bed.

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*  We want to sell the house, but we are not desperate.  We have no intention of letting some tyre kicking arsehole walk through our home, spouting bullshit in an attempt to screw the price down below market value.

The bubble burst

Today we found out that our prospective buyers would not be making a further offer and had, in fact, submitted an offer on 30%'s "Uncle Brian's" house.

Obviously, Uncle Brian is well aware of our situation.  When they viewed his house he noted that they didn't seem that interested and his current opinion is that he doesn't trust them as far as he could throw them.  He is yet to respond to their offer.

We are very disappointed but, having completed the post match analysis, the warning flags were there from the start.  The Estate Agents had indicated that they didn't show the normal behaviours of a buyer* and the lack of response after we rejected their opening offer was certainly not the norm.  The more we think about it, the more we conclude that it was never a proper offer and it is better for the sale to fall through now, than after we had spent a few thousand on Solicitor and Surveyor fees.

We are both very cross and very disappointed at having to withdraw our offer on the cottage, but we have a couple more viewings of The Pile in the pipeline, so let's just wait and see.

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*  Remember, they viewed the house three times, including a visit for their daughter to "chose her new bedroom".  Their feedback was gushingly positive ... and then just lost all interest when their opening offer was knocked back. Strange!

Surely it can't be that difficult?

This morning started with a delivery ...

I've been in contact with a chap down in the village who is anxious to get a nucleus colony of bees installed in his new hive.  To be honest, I'm not sure* that he is sufficiently prepared, but all I can do is give him a few pointers and hope that he a) listens,  b) follows sound advice and c) joins a club and gets himself a mentor.

So, as I said, this morning I trundled down to his house and spent forty minutes installing six frames of bees in his hive.  He is going to have a few challenges as my frames aren't really compatible with his hive.  I've already mentioned that he isn't properly prepared and not being aware that there are several frame and hive types, most of which are not cross-compatible, was his first major crime.**  For Fuck's Sake!  Keeping bees is challenging enough, without making it even more complicated by trying to migrate bees from one type of hive to another. 

Anyway, the frames were introduced and I left him with some basic instructions to follow over the next days and weeks.  I don't want him to fail,  but, at the same time, I have no desire to take on another mentee.*** 

I've advised him to do weekly inspections, but does he know what he is actually looking for?  Can he identify queen cups and swarm cells? Can he spot eggs and young larvae?  Can he even identify a worker, drone or queen?  The list of questions and concerns is as long as my arm, but 30%'s advice is ringing in my ears "You've done everything you can, its his problem now".

The problem is that I feel a sense of responsibility for the future of the colony.  I don't want a novice beekeeper's ignorance to lead to the demise of a colony of honey bees.

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*  Actually I am bloody positive that he is nowhere near sufficiently prepared.  His comment that he had "watched a few YouTube videos" told me that he has severely underestimated the knowledge and skill needed to maintain a colony or two.

**  Try fitting a Ford fuel injection system to a Volvo and see how far you get. 

*** This is a hideous word and I actually cringe as I type it.

A bit of normality

Earlier in the week Bubbles sent me a WhatsApp asking if I fancied going clay pigeon shooting this morning. 

It has been more than ten weeks since I last shot* and I'm not that good at the best of times, so I was expecting to be absolutely appalling after two and half months without laying a finger on a shotgun.  There was also going to be the novelty of the new social distancing procedures that had been implemented to minimise the risk of infection.  It was going to be a strange mix of familiar and new routines.

It was quite reassuring to go through the pre-shoot routine.  110 fibre wad cartridges in the bag ... check.  Ear plugs and shooting glasses ... check.  Hat, shooting gilet and licence ... check.  Finally I unlocked the gun safe, pulled my Browning out of her "sock" and zipped her in to a gun slip.  I was ready to go out and smash some clays.

Today's shooting ground of choice was the Hereford & Worcester ground over on the other side of Redditch.  Bubbles had got us booked in for a 10.15 start and we navigated our way through the new one-way system to pay and enter the ground.

I volunteered to shoot first at stand #1 and was somewhat apprehensive as I loaded and shouldered my gun.  I called "pull" and Bubbles released the first clay.  I tracked the clay's path, fired and missed.  There was no time to think as the sound of the first shot was the signal for Bubbles to release the second clay.  I picked up the path of the second clay, took aim and fired.  I was rewarded with the sight of clay fragments raining down.  

It is fair to say that I was somewhat relieved that I had managed to "get my eye in" and hit one of the targets.  Eight more clays followed in quick succession and my score for the first stand was 5/10.  It's not a great score, but after a ten week gap I was happy enough ... it could have been a whole lot worse.

Before lockdown my percentage score was mid to high fifties on a good day and forties on a not so good day.  Today I managed 56% and was quite chuffed.  Bubbles is a far better shot than I, and scored a solid 81%.

Bubbles did say "You'd better check my maths"

The thing is, we both agreed that the shooting was great.  What can't you love about using a shotgun to blow targets to smithereens? However, the camaraderie was equally as important.  It was lovely to wander around in the sun talking bullshit, catching up on each other's news and alternating between congratulating great shots and ripping the piss when we missed the easy ones.

Now I've got to clean my gun.

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*  14th March at Hailes Shooting Ground

The suspense is intense

Our BAFO* on Pile #2 has been accepted.  There was a momentary pause for a minor celebration, but we still need to get a firm offer in place on The Pile.  Our potential buyers have been in contact with the Estate Agent, advising that they had viewed another property yesterday, but "it wasn't for them".  They have another house to look at this afternoon** and then they will get back to the Agent about our house.  They say that they, and their daughter, love our house, so we can only wait and see.

You can rest assured that we are constantly revisiting our decisions and second guessing each and every one of them.  Should we have accepted their only offer?  Surely everyone comes in with a low bid at first?  Then there is the forensic analysis and reanalysis of the scant facts with the hope that the cosmic tumblers will, once again, click in to place an unlock a new future for us.

30% keeps telling me that "it will happen if it is meant to be", but, as you have probably worked out,  I'm not a great believer in fate*** and am currently thinking "have we fucked this up"?

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*  Best and final offer.

**  This turned out to be the home of 30%'s "Uncle Brian".  It is £50K more expensive than ours and has the space they need, but not the location.  30% interrogated Uncle B via FaceBook and his view was that they didn't seem that interested.

*** Now the bell shaped curve of probability is a completely different thing.  Everybody gets lucky once in a while.

Who is going to blink first?

It came as no surprise that our opening offer on the property was rejected.  It was £20K under the asking price, but surely no-one starts a negotiation with their best and final offer?

Well, it appears that may be the case with our potential buyers.  The feedback from the Agents is that they are not going to come back with another offer and are, in fact, now going to look at other properties in the area.

So today was spent with very high stress levels with both of us wondering whether we had messed up by not accepting the one and only offer on The Pile.  We are both aware that it was a very good offer and was only 3.33% less than our asking price.  Have we fucked this up?

Later in the day 30% did some social media stalking of our potential buyer and discovered that she was a senior buyer for an automobile manufacturer.  This is a women that understands the art of negotiation and this had a somewhat calming effect.

Are we in a staring contest where it is a case of who will blink first?  If she blinks we get a few more grand and that will certainly help with fees and stamp duty.  If we blink first the buyer gets the house for her opening offer.

Our desire to buy the house we have viewed is obviously a massive incentive to cave in and accept the offer.  It is fair to say that this is a nerve wracking situation.

We have done our sums and worked out that we can afford to buy the new house for its asking price, based on what our potential buyer has offered.  We will need to hit our savings hard, but we are willing to do so.

This evening we submitted an increased offer on the new house, well aware that we can't proceed until our potential buyer blinks.

It looks perfect

With an offer made on The Pile, we promptly made an appointment to view the property that we had driven out to look at last Saturday.

At eleven o'clock this morning we turned up for our viewing and were both bowled over by the house, its gardens and its views over South Worcestershire.  Admittedly it will need redecorating and, in time, the kitchen and bathrooms will need to be updated, but it is a property where you could just move in and enjoy your new home.

We both absolutely loved it and put in an opening offer as soon as we got home ...

The only problem is that our potential buyers haven't come back to us with an improved offer.  It is fair to say that our stress levels have not subsided.

A disturbance in The Force

The possibility of moving house suddenly got very real!

After more than fifteen years here at The Pile we have become very accustomed to our environment and our daily routines.  One might say "stuck in a rut". If that is the case, it is a very pleasant "rut" and I would argue that we have just become very settled to, and comfortable with, our life here in the village.

There was, therefore, a massive disturbance in The Force today, when we received a very respectable offer for the house.  All of a sudden everything that seemed permanent was not.  Our future was unclear and a thousand questions filled our heads.  

It is fair to say that both of us were very unsettled by this sudden turn of events.  I know that this is the natural order of things when you put your house up for sale, but after the complete lack of interest a couple of years ago, we didn't expect anything ... but we did hope.

Needless to say we have politely rejected the first offer.  As I said, it was a good offer, but surely the prospective buyer has left some wiggle room and can up a little more ... After all we have conveyancing, removals and stamp duty to consider.

Other stuff

Obviously 30% and I are in a head spin as a result of today's news, but life goes on and there were a couple of other noteworthy events ...

Firstly, Dog #3's recent behaviour can now be explained.  She has come in to season over the weekend and is unbelievably clingy at the moment.  She is a complete "wuss" at the best of times, but can now be found lying outstretched on the sofa with a pained expression and exhibiting the occasional whimper.*  

I also grabbed a camera and took a few pictures of the Moto Guzzi to preserve her for posterity.

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*  This could be due to the indignity of having to wear a pair of Huggies pull-ups to prevent any mess. 

Weekend round-up

It's the end of a relaxing, yet stressful, long weekend. Let me explain ...

Saturday

I've already recounted that we had a second viewing of The Pile On Friday.  Well, early on Saturday morning the phone rang and it was the Estate Agents.  A third viewing had been requested with the stated purpose of "allowing the children to choose their bedrooms".  The family are obviously very keen, but isn't it more appropriate to agree a selling price before choosing where the kids will sleep?

30% was somewhat stressed by this rather bizarre situation, especially as Social Distancing is still in place and viewings should be kept to a minimum. She had a lengthy conversation with the Agent that climaxed with the advice that the prospective buyer should "shit or get off the pot".  I must admit I smiled to myself as I listened to her rant at the Agent. I attempted to calm her down and see the positive side of things, we definitely have a fish on the line and now we just need to stay calm and reel it in.

Much of Saturday morning was spent tidying the house in preparation for viewing #3, although 30% and I did have time to display a possibly serious error in judgement ...

We drove  few miles down the road to do a "drive by" of a property that seems to be just what we want.  It has land, a lovely view and is on a quiet lane, yet is within easy reach of the local town.  It looks like it could be perfect for us, but we cannot get a viewing until we have an offer on The Pile.  

The result is that 30% and I are now stuck in a complicated emotional stew of desire, frustration, anticipation and fear.

Sunday

A good chunk of Sunday was spent inspecting the hives.  The weather was just about warm enough, but the bees weren't flying well and the hives were stuffed with irritable workers.  All seemed well and the queen in the most recent shook swarm seems about to start laying.  

Sunday's inspection did have another objective.  Aa a result of Wednesday's chimney clearing escapade, I have been contacted by a chap who wants a nucleus of bees for a hive that his wife gave him as a present.  As a consequence I was looking at which of my queens I was prepared to let go would be suitable for him.  The prospective beekeeper is a nice enough chap, but he has virtually no knowledge of beekeeping beyond watching a few videos on YouTube!  He has a lot to learn in a very short space of time!*

The afternoon was started with a kip on the sofa before I headed outside and finally threw a bucket of water over the Moto Guzzi.  After her sponge bath, I wheeled her in to a sunny spot to dry off in the evening sun while 30% and I enjoyed the calm that comes at the end of the day.

Monday

The weather was scorching from the start, so I opened up the garage doors, assembled cloths and cleaning products and spent most of the morning and early afternoon polishing the Guzzi.  She now looks presentable and I need to photograph her before she gets grubby again.

The afternoon saw a trip to Redditch for a socially distanced afternoon tea with Mr and Mrs Tweedy in their garden.  It was Mr Tweedy's birthday and fun couple of hours were spent catching up on their news whilst partaking of tea and cake.

So, that's a quick summary of a long weekend.  The next few days could be interesting, exciting or very disappointing.

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*  I did give him a bit of advice and suggested that he joined a local beekeeping club and got himself a mentor.  I got the feeling that this seed of wisdom fell on stony ground, so I made it absolutely clear that I would give him a bit of advice, but was not willing to mentor him ...

I made that mistake a while back and spent eighteen months being accompanied for an entire beekeeping season by a chap who was intent on having a Top Bar Hive.  From the very start I advised him against it and pointed out the various failings and limitations of this third world beekeeping practice.  He steadfastly ignored my advice and I ended up spending a lot of time developing an approach to produce a nucleus colony that would fit in his non-standard hive.

The nuc was delivered and I saw very little of him after that, although when I last bumped in to him, at VI's funeral, he advised that he was giving up the Top Bar and moving to National Hives. At no point did he apologise for wasting my time or ignoring my advice and, to add insult to injury, he promised a curry to "thank" me for my mentoring and the nuc.  I'm still waiting!

Another long weekend

It was the start of yet another long weekend.

For most of May I have worked part-time and have really enjoyed the new balance between working and non-working days.  This new working pattern stemmed from the fact that 30% and I had planned to spend a few days down on The Gower at the beginning of the month.  That mini-break got cancelled, so, with the agreement of my Boss, I rescheduled my three days of holiday across the entire month. Basically I tacked them on to the weekends. This gave me three four day weeks and one three day week, as I took advantage of the two Bank Holidays.

Although I was allegedly not working, my days was already looking fairly busy.  I had arranged for "the impulse buy" to be serviced and MOT'd down at Arden Motorcycles in Alcester.  We also had a couple coming back for a second viewing of The Pile.  As a consequence I was either schlepping to and fro between home and Alcester or tidying up the house and garden.

Today I thought I'd jot down the story of the impulse buy...

TP and I like to go the Motorcycle Live event in Birmingham. It takes place every year around the time of his Birthday and, as we both love bikes, it's an event that we can both enjoy together and relate to it on equal terms.  30% likes to call it "male bonding". I suppose I see it as a maturing of our father/son relationship.

We attended the event back in 2018 and, frankly, we were not overly impressed with the styling of the 2019 models being presented.  They looked very similar to each other and their ultra-modern styling didn't appeal to either of us.   We found ourselves drawn to the more retro designs being produced by manufacturers such as Triumph, Royal Enfield ... and Moto Guzzi.

We lingered at the Guzzi display and both agreed that every one of their limited range of models was a delight of Italian design and individuality.  Their transversely mounted, air cooled V-twin engines are a prominent feature and were proudly incorporated in to the designs.  It is fair to say we both rather liked them.

For the preceding few years Moto Guzzi had been very successful with their V7 model range and one model had really caught my eye.  In 2016 they went from the V7 ii to the V7 iii and produced a limited edition model called the V7 ii Stornello.  It is a Street Scrambler design with a red, tubular frame, white paintwork on the tank and brushed aluminium mudguards.  It was a lovely bike, but there were only one thousand of them spread across the whole planet.

Our experience at the Bike Show rekindled my interest in the Stornello and, shortly after the event, I casually entered the model in to a Google search field.  I found a beauty about sixty miles away and, on impulse made a call to the Seller.  It was eighteen months old with only 1600 miles on the odometer.  The previous owner had bought it new, ridden it for a while and then px'd it against another bike.  After a very short discussion with 30%, I put down a holding deposit and arranged to view it...

By early December it was delivered and I couldn't wait to see the look on TP's face when he came home for Christmas and saw what his idiot Father had gone and done.

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Post script:  The purchase of the Guzzi was really the death knell for the Bonneville.  They both had the roughly the same amount of power, but the MG was much lighter and consequently performed and rode far better than the Bonnie ever would.  Its limited edition status also gave it an individuality that the Bonneville could never attain.

I would have added a picture in this entry but the Stornello is embarrassingly filthy, so that will have to wait until after I have "thrown a bucket of water over her".

My dog is a little shit!

This morning I was roused much earlier than I wanted to be.

I was dragged from the depths of sleep by dog #3 licking one of my hands. I withdrew it under the covers and the little bugger moved down the bed and found a foot poking out from under the duvet. That got licked too.  Having seemingly got tired of licking that foot, it then rummaged around until it found my other foot and gave it the same licky treatment.

By this time I was most definitely awake and I cracked one eyelid.  The light level told me that it was well before six o'clock and I groaned inwardly.  You see, the problem is that once I am awake I find it virtually impossible to fall back to sleep or lie in.  I knew that I was going to have to get up as it seemed that the dog wanted to be let out for a pee. My night's sleep was definitely over.

I checked my watch and saw that it was five, fifteen.  I'll repeat that; the little bugger had woken me at quarter past bloody five!  Now. I'm happy to rise at six, but this was unacceptable.  Clothes were thrown on and dog #3 jumped off the bed and trotted happily to the bedroom door.

We made our way downstairs and I grabbed the keys and unlocked the door to the garden.  The little sod had no interest in going out in to the garden.  She headed straight to the lounge and curled up in her favourite spot on the sofa.

The bloody thing then snoozed for a couple of hours until the Marauder and Whiffler woke and, only then, went out to desecrate the lawn.

I don't like heights

As a beekeeper I seem to have become the "go to guy" for any Hymenopterid related issue that may arise in the vicinity.  If a friend or acquaintance encounters a swarm, a wasp nest or even bumblebees in the garden I seem to get a call.  It actually goes beyond that and I now get a summons if friends of friends have an insect problem!

I don't really mind and am happy to offer advice or guidance. I'm also happy to collect a swarm. provided it is within easy reach.  I am certainly not going to put myself at risk climbing up trees to collect a swarm, especially as I already have more colonies than I really want or need.*

So, how on earth did I find myself forty feet in the air on a scaffolding tower, wearing a bee suit and looking down a redundant chimney?

For the past few weeks I have been consulted intermittently by a friend who has bees in one of his chimneys.  The chimney is no longer in use and the friend has had scaffolding erected so that he can re-point the brickwork.  He is no fan of being stung and consequently wanted my advice about the bees that appeared to be in residence.  We initially thought that they were masonry bees, but found them to be honey bees when a brick was removed from and he found himself peering at comb crawling with bees.  I was sent a WhatsApp image and asked what to do.

This wild colony probably originated as a swarm and had viewed the hollow of the capped chimney as the perfect place to settle, they live in hollow trees, small caves and crevices in the wild and a chimney is a handy man-made substitute.  There was no way to remove the colony without significant risk, so the decision was taken to use a chemical insecticide to kill them** and enable the removal of the combs.

The insecticide was applied about a week ago and this afternoon I turned up with a couple of bee suits and we were soon high in the air looking at bees buzzing around the chimney.  As it says in the title; I really don't like heights and I was very conscious of being so high. Even more so, when I had to climb up off the platform and perch on a scaffold rail to peer down the chimney.

The weird thing was that my fear of heights disappeared as soon as I found myself inspecting the comb blockage.  Apparently doing something normal is a great distraction from one's phobias.  Over the next forty minutes we dug out fifty or sixty pounds of sticky honey comb that extended a couple of feet down the chimney. This bagged and lowered to the ground and then we celebrated our ingenuity with beers in the sun.

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* I worked out that four colonies are more than sufficient.  I can take a reasonable honey harvest from them and their management takes a couple of hours every week, leaving me enough time for family and other interests.  If I loose a colony over the Winter there are still three remaining and a split or shook swarm can be taken to replace any losses...  The problem is that bees do like to reproduce and I overwintered six colonies and currently have eight spread over two apiaries!

** This may seem harsh, but this pest removal rather than the destruction of threatened British wildlife in their natural habitat.

Politicking

This morning found me with my nose to the grindstone reviewing feedback on the recommendations that I had spouted before disappearing for a long weekend.

It was no surprise that I had ruffled Colleague R's feathers.  He needs to understand that his reign is over and the brave new world is going to fall under my dominion rather than his.   I may need to calm him down, but it'll do him good to stew and lick his wounds for a couple of days and I am never in a rush to talk to him ... on any day of the week.

As for Colleague M, I had heard nothing from him directly, although I had seen a couple of emails that reinforced my view that he is a bone idle fucker that does the bare minimum to push a task forward. I have worked with him on previous occasions  and am well aware of his shortcomings. It is unfortunate that my boss never took enough interest to work out what the rest of the team have known for a long, long time.  As a result I ensure that I always give him clear and documented direction and follow up on a regular basis to make sure he is doing a half-arsed approximation of what he is supposed to.

I managed to grab ten minutes with my Boss to have a quick chat and to ensure that he was crystal clear on the whys and wherefores of my recommendations.  He had already agreed to my approach, but I just wanted to double check before I committed resources. The clock is slowly ticking down to the end of June when the contracts expire and I don't want to pulled up in a couple of weeks' time and asked "why the hell are you doing that"?

In summary; my day was spent talking to a number of colleagues and my manager to ensure that we were all aligned and in agreement with my plan of action.  If I wasn't playing politics, I was setting up meetings to get the plan moving.

Oh, and a couple came to see the house. We don't think they were particularly impressed to be asked to wear masks or gloves for the viewing and the feedback suggests that this wasn't what they were loooking for.

A busy weekend

It is fair to say that my three day weekend was fairly busy.  Our primary goal was to get the house and garden cleaned and decluttered in preparation for the viewing on Tuesday. 

In addition to the Spring Clean, TP needed assistance with bottling twenty litres of home brewed IPA and he also had a young cheddar cheese that needed to be coated in beeswax before it was placed in the cellar to mature.  He is certainly trying to keep himself occupied during the lockdown.

There were also bees to be inspected, lawns to be mowed and dogs to be walked. At the risk of repeating myself, it was a busy weekend.  I won't create a boring narrative of domesticity, but will note down a couple of things that amused or interested me.

Firstly, I inspected the hive from which I created a shook swarm in mid-April.  I am pleased to report that the new queen has mated and has started to lay.  Hopefully she will have the colony back up to strength in the next few weeks and they will continue to add to the honey already stored in the hive's supers.

The second was an amusing discussion that I crashed in to.  30% and TP were discussing the impact of the lockdown on students and graduates and ended up talking about the son of one of her colleagues.  Apparently he was due to go to University in September, but was considering taking a gap year to concentrate on his sporting interests.  We were advised that "he is one of the best swimmers in the Country".  My pithy response was "What, better that a duck?"  After a few minutes of analysis it was determined that, however good this chap was, there were a significant number of British ducks or pike, for that matter, that could out-swim him.

What a couple of wankers!

I've already mentioned that my Boss has asked me to manage the handover of work from a pair of Contractors that will be moving on in a couple of month's time.  They both have a reputation for being wind bags and slackers and, so far, my findings have reinforced that view.

Today I had workload review calls arranged with both of them and I turned up promptly for the first with Contractor M.  I had already picked up M's most significant piece of work because he hadn't got a clue how to move it forward to completion. As we worked our way through his very short list it was apparent that he had one key task that needed attention and he had done fuck all with it in the three weeks that it had sat in his work stack.

He has been coasting for a while now and, if I am honest, there is little point in kicking his arse at this late stage*.  Instead, I pointed out that he had an administrative role looking after a configuration management database and he was going to be spending the next few weeks preparing a "Dummies Guide" and performing knowledge transfer to some selected colleagues. 

He is an evasive little fucker and I am going to have to keep a close eye on him to ensure that all of this happens. Step 1 in the management of this was a full set of meeting notes with actions that were issued to him and our Boss.

The second call was with Contractor R and this took place about forty minutes later.  I had been focussing on this chap's work stack since the beginning of April and had already proven that eight of his nine work activities required zero input from him.

At this point I will acknowledge that the ninth work activity is a bit of a beast, but I had spent the past few days preparing for this call and had summarised the task, the deliverables and the fact that all Colleague R needed to do was prepare a Service Description Document.

We spent the next eighty minutes in the most ridiculous discussion where it rapidly became apparent that R had absolutely no plan to close out this work activity.  It appears that he is simply revelling in attending inconclusive customer calls and claiming that a lack of requirements is preventing progress.

I'm a completer/finisher by nature and this situation is absolutely abhorrent to me.  This chap is being paid a fortune and is happy to coast along spouting nonesensical bullshit to conceal the fact that he is making no attempt to drive this activity to conclusion.

It is fair to say that I came very close to going ballistic at a few points in this discussion, but kept my temper in reasonable check and formulated a plan to delimit the requirements as they were currently understood and to develop the solution definition document to align with the pricing that is being developed by a frolleague of mine.

Funnily enough my manager got another meeting summary with a proposal that the current documentation should be abandoned and that I should manage the production of the necessary document. 

Let's see what he says when I get back in to work on Tuesday.

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*  and that would be my Boss' job, not mine

Furniture Polish recipe

The main purpose of this journal is jot down the comings and goings of life, things that amuse or irritate me and useful pieces of information that I want to note down for perpetuity.  Basically it's part diary, part scrapbook, part jotter.

It was a quiet day today, so I thought I'd note down a recipe for furniture polish that I had made at the back end of 2018.  I made a couple of jars, so have a plentiful supply.  Its likely to be years before I need to refer to the recipe again ... but at least I stand a chance of finding it in here.

I suppose I had better start with a warning. If you attempt to make this polish you will be working with highly flammable substances and you do so at your own risk. I'm not responsible if you set fire to yourself.

Ingredients

1/3 Beeswax

1/3 Boiled Linseed Oil

1/3 Pure Gum Turpentine (not the synthetic stuff)

Method

1. Measure out the ingredients.
2. Put the turps and linseed oil in sealed jars and put these in warm water to heat both the jars and the contents.  The aim of this stage is to pre-warm these substances safely.  If cold turps and linseed oil are added to the melted beeswax, it will solidify quickly unless it is kept over the heat.  By pre-warming these solvents it should be possible to blend them with the beeswax away from any source of ignition. Do not use a Bain-marie, double boiler or any other stove top device. Put the sealed jars in a washing up bowl and add hot water from the tap or kettle. As the water cools replace it with warmer water to keep the solvents nice and warm.
3. Melt the bees wax in a Bain-marie or double boiler.
   Once melted remove from the heat and turn off any sources of ignition
4. Add the warmed Linseed Oil to the melted beeswax and stir well
   If the wax starts to solidify it will be necessary to return the container to the Bain-marie, which should be warm enough to melt the contents without the need for the external heat sources.
5. Finally add the heated Turpentine and stir well.
6. Pour in to the warmed jars and leave to set

Note: test the polish on a concealed area of any item you plan to polish to ensure it is compatible with the wood finish.