In an English country garden...

Andy has now decided he wants to build a potting shed. This is on the back of the bee-keeping course we attended yesterday.

I shall explain...

The bee-keeping course was very informative. It was a small course of three hours long; a sort of 'we'll tell you a bit about bee-keeping and see if it puts you off the idea altogether, or fires you with enthusiasm to learn more.' It was run by Scott and Geraldine, who have many hives in various situations, and there were 7 attendees, myself and Andy included. And by the end of the session, I was all fired to buy a hive or two on the way home, and see if we could find a stray swarm clinging to a tree somewhere, in need of an enthusiastic custodian. As is my wont.

Andy managed to get us safely home making only one stop to buy some chips, as all that learning makes one very hungry you know.

So this morning we were standing in the pitifully small space we call our back garden, trying to decide the best place to site a couple of hives. We've decided already that two hives is the best way to start. Now, when we moved into our house, five and a half years ago, the back garden seemed small, because it was overgrown with shrubs and dominated by a shed. We dug up all the shrubs and removed the shed. Then the garden seemed much bigger. And then we added a greenhouse, a storage box, a set of wooden garden furniture, a raised bed and a Cluckinghen Palace. And now it seems small again.

'The obvious place would be there,' said Andy, pointing to where the garden furniture is currently situated.

This was true. The area is surrounded by fence and wall, thereby encouraging the bees to take their flight path up and away out of the way as quickly as possible on leaving their hive, thus avoiding things like banging into people's faces. And it is sheltered and catches the early morning sun, thereby encouraging the bees to get up early in the morning and begin the day's work rather than lounging around in their brood box (that's techni-talk, that is), and also staying relatively warm in the winter, thereby avoiding dying.

'But where would we put the garden furniture?' said I.
'There,' said Andy, pointing to its original space under the kitchen window.
That's where I put my seedlings to harden off, I think. But I don't say anything.

'Or we could put one hive there and another there,' said Andy, pointing to the storage box he made from the remnants of the old shed. 'But we'd have to get rid of the box because it is too long, and swap it for a taller, but thinner shed.'
'I see,' I said. 'And the hive would go next to it?'
'Yes,' said Andy.

Things become very complicated when considering the flight paths of bees in relation to the siting of hives. Especially when space is a squeeze and you don't want them pooping on your washing. If you have more than one hive (which is advisable as a pre-emptive measure to deal with potential swarming), you have to off-set each entrance so the bees develop their own flight paths and don't end up getting confused and going home to the wrong pad. And so they don't bump heads and get angry and end up stinging someone (probably me).

Hence Andy heading for Google to do an intensive search into sheds, and then deciding he might like to build his own shed. And then getting diverted to Amazon to look for a book on how to build a shed.

'You've got a carpentry book,' I said. 'It might have shed building instructions in there.'
'I do not,' said Andy.
'You do,' I said. 'I saw you reading it once.'
'I don't remember,' said Andy. 'Are you sure?'
'Positive,' I said.
'Well, I don't remember having a carpentry book,' said Andy. And this is his subtle way of saying, 'I probably have got such a book somewhere in amongst the gazillions of books in this house, but if I deny its existence for long enough, Denise will get furious and go and find it.'

Which is what happened. Except Andy realised (as I was trying to mark some stupid exam papers at the time) that I was probably slightly more furious than usual and so he'd better make an effort to find said book himself. Which he did.

'Are you sure this is my book?' he said.
'Yes,' I said.
'And not your book?'
'Why would I want a book on carpentry?' I said.
'Perhaps you bought it for Chris?' said Andy.
'No, I did not,' I said, because I know bloomin' well I didn't.
'Or perhaps it belonged to your Dad?' persisted Andy.
'My Dad was a Master Carpenter and Builder of 40 years, apprenticed from the age of 15. Why on earth would he want the 'Reader's Digest Companion to Simple Carpentry Projects?' I screeched, I mean said.

At this point, Andy sensibly retreated to his Google search for plans to build one's own potting shed, and I returned, huffing, to my exam paper marking. Which, in my defence, is enough to put anyone in a bad mood.

So there we are. And to add to the issues, we need to get the eucalyptus tree cut down before the hives are sited because the only exit from back garden to front drive with bits of massacred tree will be passed one of the potential hive sites, and although I am now a member of the British Bee Keeper Association (or BBKA) and have public liability and death of bee colony insurance, I don't want to alarm the neighbours by having an anaphylactic tree surgeon writhing in agony from multiple bee stings on the driveway.