1st January - Pram Racing

The Cup Cakes

Welcome to 2012 the year of austerity and Olympics - hard to know which to look forward to least really! Far more upsetting than the prospect of a year centred on liquidity and lycra though, was the discovery of an empty hive in my apiery this morning. To loose a colony or two over the winter is not unusual but it is early yet and I fear for my other hives. If they are also running out of stores, the warm weather (which continues unabated) will compound the problem, making them more active and as a result in need even more food. The feeders have gone back on, filled with sugar syrup and that is as much as I can do, besides hope. It is possible that some of my hives are even more susceptible to dying out than would ordinarily be the case, as I am conducting a rather unscientific and possibly fool hardy experiment. Since the spread of varroa (a nasty parasitic bee mite which spreads various deadly diseases within colonies) the beekeeping community has rushed to find chemicals and management techniques to control the number of mites on their bees but my approach has been different. When varroa first arrived there was a total collapse of wild bee colonies and for several years after that I didn't notice a single one. As it happened I wasn't beekeeping during that period but when I started up again it was with a swarm which was , I believed,  from a wild colony as I collected it some distance from any apiary. After that I saw more and more wild bees reoccupy hollow trees and old buildings and collected more swarms from this resurgent stock. Six years on I have expanded my apiary from 4 to 10 hives without once using chemicals to control varroa and I am beginning to think, naïvely perhaps, that my bees are in some way special. An expert with whom I discussed the phenomenon was very dismissive, but the fact that wild colonies have died out and then re-established is surely evidence that some bees can survive with varroa and my bees descend from those wild colonies.

What I was meant to be writing about was the pram race in Sutton Valence today. Every New Year's Day the archetypal Kent village, with its quaint pubs and half timbered houses, plays willing host to this celebration of English eccentricity. The rules are simple.  Each three-man team must negotiate the circular course with a wheeled contraption containing one of the team, drink half a pint at each pub en route and finish first to win. I'm not sure that dressing in drag was compulsory but most of the male entries appeared to have seized on the opportunity to adorn tights and make up anyway. Having arrived late the start/finish line was already crowded and we took up position on the long hill leading to the Swan where we could enjoy a good view of the tired, partially pissed competitors hauling or pushing up the hill. Amongst the other onlookers was Hugh Robertson, Minister for sport. Perhaps he was on a fact-finding mission to elevate pram racing to an Olympic sport - now that would be worth watching!

Dead Tyrants

Long Drag!