The Lavender Hill Mob

We are officially 'good with outstanding features'. Well, hurrah for that, is all I can say. Having spent most of this week in a state of either manic hyperactivity or overwhelming tiredness thanks to the presence of OFSTED Inspectors lurking hither and thither, jumping out of corners and asking awkward questions about community co-hesion and differentiation, and assessment for learning and assessment for pupil progress (YAAAAAAAAAAAAWN - sorry, don't know quite how that one slipped out), I struggled home from work through the heat of Friday, had a shower, and lay on the bed, motionless, unless I felt less frazzled and fried and more human, and then I went into the front garden with my little camera and took photos of the Malarkey bees playing on the Malarkey lavendar.
Oh, I know they were working, but they looked like they were having fun in their work.

'Beatrice! Beatrice! Look at this gorgeous spot of lavender! Isn't it just marvellous, darling? Do come and have a forage!'
'Oh, but the choice is soooooo great in this garden, Beelinda! I fancy a bit of penstemon myself. The colours are divine. This red one tastes just like a strawberry daquiri. Or what about those poppies? Or the hollyhocks?'
'I've heard tell there's iris in the back garden...'
'Who's she?
'Shut up, Beatrice...'
Bees, I have discovered, are tricky things to photograph. And my little digital camera, whilst good at taking photos in general, is a bit slow off the mark when it comes to shutter speed. At least, it is slower than a bee. There was I, spread-eagled on the driveway, crawling commando-style through the borders, framing bees beautifully in the view-finder, and thinking, now there's a lovely photo. And clicking the take-a-picture-button. But by the time the camera had taken its time to think about it, the bee had flown out of frame and I ended up with various shots of the back end of a bee's bum.
Working with my camera is a bit like working with a particularly 'special' child at school.
'So, Stacey, what is it called when we FREEZE a character in drama so we can find out what that character is thinking?'
'Er...stopping?'
'No...listen carefully. We've done this lots of times before. If we have a FRAME of action, and we FREEZE that action, so all the characters stop moving, what's it called?'
'Stop the moving?'
'Well, yes, that's what happens. But there's a special word for it in drama, isn't there?'
'Is there?'
'Yes...we FREEZE the FRAME, so it's called a....?'
'Er...well...er...I DON'T KNOW, DO I? GOD, YOU NEVER TELL US NUFFIN'. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT?'
'Please don't shout, Stacey. You're making my head hurt.'

Anyway, I have discovered the best way to photograph bees is to do away with any pretentions that involve setting up a frame, getting the lighting just right, waiting for the moment etc, and just click, click, click away in a truly random fashion because the law of averages and the God of Good Fortune both dictate you'll catch something worthwhile eventually.

And what I caught has, as you can see, been scattered liberally about this post, like the Malarkey bees amongst the Malarkey lavender on Friday evening.
(But the zooming and cropping was ALL my own work!! And a couple of bumbles got in on the act too - now that IS what I call community cohesion!)