Not all work here is winemaking and farming. I am also a keen beekeeper; what I lack in experience, I make up for in enthusiasm. It is a constant and steep learning curve, beekeeping; but never so much as today.
Beekeeping 101: when you are about to go on holiday, and you check your hive the day before you leave, do not annoy the bees.
I checked my hives, and noticing some interesting cells on the honeycomb, poked at one. Turned out it contained a baby queen. And if there is ONE THING that bees are REALLY INTO, it is their baby queens. Within moments of my unwanted poke (and resulting death of the princess), my bees went BERSERK. Filled with the confidence of the truly stupid, I was aware that the bees were mad, but told myself, “...my bee suit will protect me.” And so it did, except for where my nose was pressed against the mesh of my head protectey bit. And so, a fortuitously placed bee stung me ON THE END OF MY NOSE.
A Lesson indeed. I brushed the sting away, cursing my stupidity . (But then, I have always been one to put my finger in any hole in the ground that I see. I am one of those ingenues who Poke The Bear.). Then continued with my pre- holiday panicking...
Until this morning, the day we have been waiting for; the day we leave for sunnier climes, when I woke up with a face like a balloon. No bone structure; no eye holes, in fact no features at all. It took antihistamines and some serious massaging to even find my nose. I only knew it was my face because there was no pony tail on it.
I panicked. How can I leave looking like this? Will they arrest me at the airport? Will they let me through immigration? (I bear no resemblance to my passport photo - then again, does anyone?) Will our daughter recognise me when we arrive in the northern hemisphere?
Much massage and much makeup later, I look like a balloon with a face drawn on. My nose looks more like a nose, and my eyes are more than slits. I look like the result of too much cosmetic surgery. I am hoping they will let me through Immigration; hopefully my hair is the same as the passport photo, and maybe my husband can vouch for me (if he even agrees to walk with me at all.)
My face is itching now, so it’s only getting better, this whole Bee-Bothering story. I have definitely learnt a lesson; don’t mess with the hive-mind the day before a holiday.
Oh well. Soon I’ll be in the sun and the warm and my chilblains and allergic reaction will disappear. In the meantime, I’ll just have to settle for looking like a Kardashian. At least, for me, it’s only temporary.