Anyone that knows me well, knows that I run squealing like a wee little girl if a bee, wasp, bumble bee, hornet, yellow jacket, horse fly, crane fly or other menacing, potentially stinger-armed bug beast from Hades comes anywhere within four feet of me. That’s just one evil insect in my midst. Imagine my horror this weekend when I spotted an unusual number of bees flying outside my office window. Close the windows- no problem. (Remember, places in the UK don’t have screens on their windows.) As I went round the flat shutting the giant windows I noticed the swirling herd of bees growing thicker outside the living room.
* Insert ominous music here *
EGAD! There’s a hive outside the window! And worse than that, the groundskeeper seems to have pissed them off! They were swarming. In a paralysed stupor, all I could do was watch the angry bees bouncing around frenetically outside. A few attacked the glass I stood safely behind. During his morning chores, the groundskeeper – two floors below – cut the grass and performed regular maintenance. I can only imagine that the vibrations he created caused my little pollination pals to get up on the wrong side of the hive. Like me, the bees seem to live on the top floor of the block of flats but their abode is apparently a drainpipe several (all too near) feet outside one of my windows. This will require the attention of the landlord soon, but fortunately we’re experiencing a rainy spell and the little buzzers don’t cavort in the wet. (Neither do I, generally speaking.)
I snapped the picture of them after I recovered from my zombie-like observational coma. They were thicker than this at the worst of it, but I think the photo shows justification for my alarm.
Even in my fear and horror, I still like honey, though I doubt the bees care enough to spare me from their terror. Bastards.