Robert Carey, aged eight
Part 2 of a short story series about the young Robert Carey - and in case you don't already have it, you can get part 1 as well, A Pest of a Boy.
Beekeepers are very social creatures. They also seem able to negotiate with the Cornish weather-gods. So the Roseland beekeeping group\’s barbecue yesterday evening was absolutely lovely – outstandingly well-organised, fantastic food, lots of fascinating conversation about varroa-control methods and requeening… Well, OK, I find it fascinating.
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Being a shambolic creature myself, I\’m always amazed and impressed by good organisation. I gaze in admiration as you do when some ordinary person bounces across a mat doing somersaults in the air. Everything worked. There were marquees in case it rained – though in fact it didn\’t. There were tables and chairs. Everybody brought a plate of food that had clearly not only been beautifully cooked, but often lovingly home-grown as well.
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And the setting (once I found it) was idyllic, in a little green valley near St Austell. The only slight downside was that there was so much delicious food that I had to have seconds of everything, thus branding myself quite clearly the greediest person there.