Beekeepers Protest – and some graffiti – 2008

Beekeepers Protest – and some graffiti: On Tuesday 5 Nov, 2008 I went to a protest by bee-keepers outside Parliament calling for more to be spent into research into the threats that bees were facing across the world – and which threaten our food supply. On my way back for my train I took a slightly longer route through Leake Street, the graffiti tunnel under the lines into Waterloo Station. I wrote a more personal than usual piece related to the bees back in 2008, and here I’ll post a corrected and slightly enlarged version of this with a few of the pictures.


Beekeepers Protest – Spend More on Research

Old Palace Yard, Westminster

Beekeepers Protest - and some graffiti - 2008

Forget the birds, it was the bees that led to my existence. My father, then a young bachelor, signed up for a bee-keeping course at the newly founded Twickenham and Thames Valley Bee-Keepers Association and made friends with his similarly aged instructor. Both had younger sisters, and soon, thanks undoubtedly to the magical properties of honey, there were two engaged pairs – and, in the fullness of time, me. Though that was rather later as I was my parent’s fourth and final child.

Beekeepers Protest - and some graffiti - 2008

Both Dad and Uncle Alf kept bees for money as well as honey, both gained certificates at various local and national honey shows. For Dad it was only one of the many small jobs as carpenter, plasterer, plumber, roofer, bricky, glazier, electrician, painter and decorator, gardener and more by which he scraped a living, but I think for Alf it was his only job.

Beekeepers Protest - and some graffiti - 2008

Dad’s second war service involved getting on his bike to inspect hives across Middlesex for foul brood, and for a time he was paid to look after the T&TVBKA’s own bees at their apiary in Twickenham, as well as those of Mr Miller at Angelfield in Hounslow, and of course he had his own on several sites, while Uncle Alf had hives in west country orchards as well as locally.

So although I’ve never kept bees, I certainly learnt about them helping Dad as a young boy, and learnt to love honey. We used it liberally, as while for most people honey came in small glass jars, ours came in 28lb cans – and I had been the motive power to turn the handle of the extractor to spin it out of the combs.

Beekeepers Protest - and some graffiti - 2008

I’d also help my dad when he went to open the hives, perhaps to add or take off a layer of combs or simply inspect them. I’d puff the smoker into which we had stuffed a roll of smouldering corrugated cardboard to pacify the workers inside and buzzing around, my head in a gauze veil to keep the bees out. But often – if not usually – I’d still get at least one sting. They hurt, but my father seemed immune, simply brushing the bees off his usually bare arms. And he certainly felt bee-stings were good for you.

The police got to know Dad well and any time there was a swarm in the area there would be a knock at our front door. Dad would get on his bike with a box and his bee gear on the rear rack and cycle off to deal with it, bringing the bees back to put in an empty hive.

For Dad honey was the cure for all ills. We gargled with it in warm water when we had colds and he smeared it on his toes when he had chilblains. Though I couldn’t bear having sticky toes.

Vegans criticise us for “stealing the honey from the bees” but of course we gave then candy in return, made from the extra sugar ration – stained with dye – that we got for the purpose, housed them well and ensured that they kept alive over cold winters. They owed their existence to us – and we of course all – not just me – in part owe our existence to them.

Bees aren’t just about honey, they are vital for pollination of crops, with around a third of what we eat depending on their work. The economic benefit from this in the UK is about ten times that from honey production at around £120-200 million a year.

But bees are under threat. Since the early 1990s, the Varroa mite has devastated many wild bee colonies. Bee-keepers have managed to control the mite, but now strains have developed which resist the treatments. A fungus, Nosema ceranae has added to the problems.

An even greater threat is colony collapse, a poorly understood disorder probably caused by a combination of factors including viruses, stress, pesticides, bad weather and various diseases. There have been huge loses of bees in the USA and parts of Europe but as yet is has not reached here.

Bee-keepers start young – as I did

Around 300 bee-keepers, organised by the British Bee-Keepers Association (BBKA) came to lobby parliament for greater research to combat the threats to bees and to deliver a petition with with over 140,000 signatures for increased funding for research into bee health to Downing St.

Most wore bee-keeping suits and hats with veils and some brought the bee-smokers that are used to calm the hives. Labour MP for Norwich North , Dr Ian Gibson, spoke briefly at the start of the protest. One of the few MPs with a scientific background, he was Dean of Biology at the University of East Anglia before being elected as an MP in 1997. The current president of the BBKA, Tim Lovett, who led the protesters, was a former student of his.

Every year the Animal and Plant Health Agency’s (APHA) National Bee Unit launches a Hive Count and the 2025 Hive count began on 1st November. Last year there were 252,647 over-wintering bee colonies in the UK and we seem so far to have avoided the catastrophic loss in bee numbers that seemed likely in 2008, though I think other pollinating insects – which are not protected by keepers – have declined.

More pictures on My London Diary at Beekeepers protest.


Leake St Grafitti

Leake St, Waterloo

The graffiti in my pictures from 2008 seem rather less impressive than those I’ve photographed in this official graffiti space in more recent years.

There are a few more on My London Dairy at Leake St Grafitti


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March of the Beekeepers 2013

March of the Beekeepers 26th April 2013: Where would we be without Bees? Personally as I’ve written before I wouldn’t be here at all. I owe my own very existence to them, as when my father as a young man decided to become a beekeeper he went to a class at the Twickenham and Thames Valley Beekeepers Association in Twickenham, given by a professional beekeeper, Alf. Fred and Alf became friends, and both had sisters (my father five of them, but Alf only one.) And so I grew up with an Uncle Alf, my mother’s brother and his wife Mabel was one of Dad’s sisters.

March of the Beekeepers

Alf and Dad were both beekeepers with prize certificates for honey etc to prove it. In our house, honey came in 28lb tins which I’d spent hours in a room sealed against bees sweating turning the handle of an extractor, and there were hives at the bottom of the garden against the factory wall, often surrounded by the sharp metal curls of swarf which came over, more dangerous than the bee stings.

March of the Beekeepers

My father had hives in several other gardens in the area, and looked after bees for at least one nearby middle-class resident, and for some years the hives at the Twickenham apiary, a job he took over from Alf. I think most of dad’s bees came from swarms which the police would regularly call and ask him to deal with – and he would get on his bike with a box to bring them back. He was something of a jack of all trades, growing vegetables to feed us and doing odd painting, decorating, plumbing and building work as well as selling a few jars of honey. Alf was a dedicated beekeeper and travelled further afield, with hives as far away as Gloucestershire, busily pollinating the orchards.

March of the Beekeepers

Somehow I never took up beekeeping, though I’d helped Dad for years. Living in various flats for around ten years took me out of the loop, and when I finally moved to a house with a garden I was too busy with other things, not least photography.

March of the Beekeepers

Bees are essential for all of our lives as one of the major pollinators of fruit and they are under great threats. Bee colonies have been dying, and a major cause of this has been the use of neonicotinoid pesticides. These can kill bees but also seriously weaken their resistance to other factors – including climate change and the Varroa mite.

Though there had been strong pressure particularly in the EU for these pesticides to be banned, the UK had abstained from a vote to ban them following a report by the European Food Safety Agency (EFSA). This was despite the decline in bee numbers being particularly drastic in England, with the number of colonies down to under half of those present in the 1980s. These pesticides don’t only kill bees they also kill other pollinating insects such as moths, which have also seen a huge decline in recent years.

The protest on Friday 26th May 2013 was supported by a wide range of organisations including Friends of the Earth, Greenpeace, Pesticide Action Network (PAN), RSPB, Soil Association, The Natural Beekeeping Trust, the Wildlife Trusts and 38 Degrees and urged Environment Secretary Owen Paterson to take urgent action and to support a further EU ban being debated the following Monday.

While the protesters stayed in Parliament Square I went with a small group led by fashion designers Dame Vivienne Westwood and Katharine Hamnett to take a petition with 300,000 signatures to Downing St.

A ban on the use of three neonicotinoids came into force in the UK and EU in 2018, but the UK government has since in the last three years running allowed a so-called emergency use of the banned pesticide thiamethoxam – a teaspoon of which is enough to kill around 1.25 billion bees on sugar beet crops. This is against the advice of the government’s own Expert Committee on Pesticides and would be unlawful were we still in the EU. Brexit means we can kill bees.

More at March of the Beekeepers.