Might there not be something more than nectar needful in the matter of keeping bees? Well, yes there is: just one thing more needed. And of this here, again, we have a bounteous provision within the Parish, I am glad to record. Now what is it? I will tell you. I refer, here, to the kindness and gentleness of our spouses. This is a notable feature of the Parish: the splendid natures of our spouses, our better halves, especially in emergencies. Because there may be emergencies. There may be moments of disadvantage in one's relationship with the bees: when warm understanding on the part of one's spouse - tolerant of failings - is urgently needed. We in the Parish can rely on our spouses at such moments of disadvantage with the bees.

But what is this? - moments of disadvantage? Is there something that needs uncovering in the keeping of bees, something that needs uncluttered consideration, something to be faced up to with forthrightness and candour? What are these moments of disadvantage referred to?

The disadvantage that I have in mind here is rather personal: not experienced by the run of beekeepers. It stems from a certain disposition on my part to take chances, neglect details - something it grieves me to see in others. It is very important not to let your mind wander in the matter of bee keeping, lapse into carelessness; adopt the ways of the recalcitrant Morris; in short, neglect to fasten-up properly your bee-keeper's boots.

Just a word, first of all, about bee-keeper's boots. These boots are a marvel of modern inventiveness: not heavy to wear, and well-equipped with Velcro straps - for tying-in securely your beekeeper's trousers. To neglect the Velcro, not troubling to make use of the facility afforded for a snug fit between boot and trouser is to stray sadly from the tenets of best practice. It is here that Morris has been known to stray. It is here that the moments of disadvantage referred to have been known to occur.

The position is this. Bees mostly fly; but sometimes they walk. It is the natural propensity of the bee, when engaged upon walking, to direct its steps upwards and into darkness. This gives the bee a sense of rightness: security similar to when it enters the hive. So the bee is likely, if it is presented with the bottom of one's trousers - two dark tunnels inviting exploring - to see fit to ascend; and, once started, know no reason to discontinue; wish to continue as rapidly as possible. And, in less than no time, will present itself within the netting of one's hat - one's beekeeper's hat.

A further propensity of the bee is to follow my leader. So that, almost at once, half a battalion will be entering upon those trouser bottoms, after the natural propensity of bees.

Now, returning to Morris, what is he to make of all this? Well, something like this. He has been known, at this point, to show a turn of speed. Arms and legs have been known to take up a flailing action. All of this sufficient to attract the attention of Mrs Morris working in the kitchen making honey sandwiches.

The practised eye of Angela, my wife, can see at once that something seems to have upset her husband. What can it be? As I race by (now on my third or, perhaps, fourth circuit) my wife notices my gaping trouser bottoms: where anyone sensible would have had them tucked in, held securely by the Velcro straps.

After a further two circuits, some slackening of speed may be observed; some sort of let-up: a certain opportunity to take stock of the situation; a time for discourse between man and wife.

And what will be said? It is here that kindness, gentleness, will be seen. Lesser wives might regail their husbands - but there is nothing of that here. They might dwell on the foolishness of husbands in general - but, again, we find no such thing here. Instead, it will be time for those honey sandwiches washed down, possibly, by a glass of mead. Thus - the virtues of our spouses within the Parish, on whom we rely.

As I say ......you need more than just nectar for keeping bees. And we in the Parish are very well-placed.