To cut a long and painful story short, it soon became obvious that my colleagues were both theoretical beekeepers and knew nothing about any of the practical issues. They loaded the hives up without strapping them so that bees leaked in all directions; they didn’t do their protective clothing up and so were stung constantly; they used their smokers so frantically that blasts of flame were coming out of them which set fire to one of the hives and finally, the site which Antonio had chosen was on a near vertical slope down which we slipped, beehives and all. Finally Antonio decided on a new site which he reckoned would be perfect. It involved a stiff climb up rocks carrying the by now really angry bees in their leaky hives and finally, as dawn broke, we placed the hives on a rocky ledge sticking out from the side of a cliff. We sat down exhausted and looked at the sun rising over the sea in the distance. I said to Antonio that this was probably the worst site ever known for bees and his reply was, “yes David but just think of how much they will enjoy the view”! He had a point.

Life settled down after that into more of a routine and we began our dip into the world of DIY which lasted non stop for the next 13 years - and in fact still hasn’t stopped. The small house we lived in was very old and was once a typical Andalucian peasant’s cottage with all of the features that made them so pretty such as beams and alcoves. Ours however had been turned into a Costa del Sol villa with false arches and all of the nice beams and features covered with plaster board. The existing fireplace had been stripped out so there was no heating and the part of the roof that was flat had battlements put on it making it resemble  miniature castle. The drains from the bath required water to flow uphill and the septic arrangements were very septic. All had to change but firstly we had to find out how. The answer came in the form of ‘The Readers Digest Book of DIY’ which had been given to me by my father. It saved us and putting all our doubts aside, we started off wrecking the house. Annabel started it off. I was away beekeeping for the day and when I returned, it was to see the bath tub lying outside on the ground with a hole in the wall of the house where it had come out! No bath tonight I thought and I knew from then on that things would only become more painful. Our main requirement actually wasn’t the bath, but was to have the house dug out of the bank that it was set into so that water didn’t flow through the house when it rained. For this we needed the help of a digger and this in itself in that part of Spain where there were so many JCB diggers rumbling around is a story in itself.