No, I’m not being anti-Royal Family. I’m talking about the queen bee living in the walls of the flats. Someone next door must’ve grown tired of hearing the hum of daily hive life and called the exterminator. He came, salted the hive with something that looked vaguely like powdered sugar, and left. Swarming bees began dying shortly after he departed. I almost felt bad for them – knowing that they were poisoning themselves and their leader with every frenzied duck into the walls – but the feeling was fleeting. Die bees, die!
Within a few days it will be safe to open the windows during the day.
Thank you Mr. Exterminator Guy. You rock.