Although this is not a tale about our home for waifs and strays, it is still a tale about when I discovered I was a writer......Come along then!

The first book I ever wrote was with my father. I was just twelve years old.         

     It all began when I won my first writing competition and that came about because I won a music competition with the BBC.

     Just like my father, I could play the guitar and won a competition run by the BBC for children. The prize was a trip for our ‘girl guides’ to visit London. It was my idea to escape through a window of the hotel in our pyjamas and go on an adventure. But what I didn’t expect was to bump into Michael Jackson and his brothers. They were equally as bemused to see six twelve year olds roaming the streets of London in the middle of the night in nothing but PJ’s (as they called them).

      ‘You have hair just like mine,’ I said to Michael and he smiled at me and nodded.

       We arrived back at our hotel exhausted but elated. Then we discovered we were locked out. It made us laugh all the more. But lurking in the shadows was our Captain, and she wasn’t laughing at all. Thankfully, she was so relieved to discover that we were all safe and sound, and that the police weren’t, as yet, involved.

        I wrote in my diary about the whole experience and entered it in a competition run by a magazine. To my amazement I won and have never stopped writing since.

        So my father decided that because we didn’t watch television, we would write a book together, a poetry book. You see, my father also loved to write poetry. It took many months to complete and when we did, it felt amazing. I learnt so much about my father and his life growing up in the Lake District and he discovered about my deep love for all creatures great and small.

        At that time my uncle (my father’s brother) was a headmaster at a school in Oxford. He came to visit us and was so impressed with our book that he took it back to his school. We never saw it again. We always asked about it when he visited, but he always made up some excuse as to why he didn’t have it on him.

        Although I have often pined after that book, probably because my father wrote most of it, I will always have the memories of the time we spent writing it together, on that old familiar kitchen table.

 It was quiet in the room where I was writing today. Normally I can see lots of things going on at our home for waifs and strays, but not here in the kitchen. I needed to settle down to do some serious writing. Remember that gap I told you about on my bookshelf? The one I’m saving for my very first grown up novel. Well, unless I give it my full attention, there will always be a gap.

     But try as I might, I missed the goings on that I can see from my usual spot. I missed gazing up at the seagulls that constantly swoop by my window and the hens clucking away down by the pond.  And I missed my kind and unassuming husband who was working on an old boat. There was nothing to see but the old range cooker and jars upon jars of rather strange things I have pickled. They didn’t hold my attention for long so I put my head down and told myself to get on with it.

      I must have made a thousand cups of tea (slight exaggeration, but not much) and ate a load of yummy chocolate!  I wrote and edited and wrote some more but something wasn’t quite right. Then it happened!

      I could hear my kind and unassuming husband’s voice long before I could see him. I looked up and knew in an instant what had happened...and I laughed.

      As you can see from the picture (there was no time for me to paint or sketch today) they sought me out!  Just like the shepherd seeks his sheep, the hens sought their mistress...something like that! Despite the fact they had found their way into the allotment area, I was delighted to see them. And I’m sure, that the feeling was mutual. After a wee bit of fuss and a few fresh grapes, they were coaxed away from the forbidding area.  

     All of a sudden I felt lighter and writing came easier. I am blessed I thought, in more ways than one! They came and that was all I needed.

 ‘She will have to go!’ said one of the arrogant workers, ‘It's the way of the bees.  Someone will have to kill her!’

      ‘Isn’t that a bit drastic?’ said Cari, who had known the queen all of her life.

      The arrogant worker turned and stared at Cari. ‘She is grumpy and ill tempered and if that carries on, there will be a swarm.....She has to go!’

       Cari knew she had to warn the queen before it was too late.

       Meanwhile, not very far away, a young princess was about to be born.

       ‘She will be our new queen,’ said the arrogant worker. ‘We will call her Myfanwy, queen of our home for waifs and strays.

       It was warm in the hive so some of the workers fanned the comb where the princess lay and fed her drops of royal jelly so she would grow into a queen. Others went in search for the grumpy old queen, intent on killing her.

       But Cari had done her job well, she had warned the queen and a swarm of bees took her away to a safe place.

       Shortly afterwards, Queen Myfwany was born. She was taken to the throne in a large chamber. The whole hive gasped at her beauty. But one gasped louder than all the others. His name was Lord Garnock the Drone. Queen Myfwany saw the Drone and instantly fell for his charms.

        The young queen was told that she would have to be married as soon as possible. The hive could not survive without children. She asked to see Lord Garnock, but was told he lived in another hive.

        ‘A meeting will be arranged,’ said a worker and away he went.

        It was Cari who took the young queen to meet the Drone. On the way there, navigating by the sun, Cari told Queen Myfanwy the sad truth.

        ‘You cannot go back to the hive unless you are carrying children,’ she said softly. ‘If you are not, they will certainly kill you.’

         The young queen smiled at Cari. ‘They will not kill me,’ she said laughing, ‘I will marry the Drone and have his children.’

          ‘Oh but you don’t understand,’ Cari said desperately. ‘If you have the Drone’s children, then he will certainly die anyway. That is how it is with all Drones. It is the way of the bees.’

          Queen Myfanwy rested on a flower. ‘I do not understand,’ she said sadly. ‘It seems I am doomed whatever I do.’

           Before Cari could answer, Lord Garnock the Drone landed besides them. The queen’s heart raced with excitement. She hardly knew him but they were bound by a love too great to ignore.

           They were married on the flower and soon the young queen was expecting her first children.

           ‘I have never been so happy,’ said the queen to Cari. ‘I have everything a queen could wish for.’

          Cari just lowered her head to hide her tears.

          ‘We must go back to the hive for the children to be born,’ said the queen. ‘Where is my husband?’

          Cari touched the delicate wings of the young queen. ‘I’m afraid he is dead,’ she said sadly. ‘That is the harsh reality of being a Drone. It is the way of the bees.’

          The queen flew in silence all the way back to the hive. Her children were born shortly afterwards. As the bee nurses tended to the young, Cari entered the chamber.

           ‘There is someone I would like you to meet,’ said Cari to the queen. ‘His name is Lord Melkin.’

           ‘But is it not too soon?’ said the queen.

           ‘It is the way of the bees,’ replied Cari, ‘the only way to survive!’

The Bee Boy's Song

Bees! Bees! Hark to your bees!
“Hide from your neigbours as much as you please,
But all that has happened, to us you must tell,
Or else we will give you no honey to sell!”
A maiden in her glory,
Upon her wedding-day,
Must tell her Bees the story,
Or else they’ll fly away.
Fly away — die away –
Dwindle down and leave you!
But if you don’t deceive your Bees,
Your Bees will not deceive you.
Marriage, birth or buryin’,
News across the seas,
All you’re sad or merry in,
You must tell the Bees.
Tell ‘em coming in an’ out,
Where the Fanners fan,
‘Cause the Bees are just about
As curious as a man!
Don’t you wait where the trees are,
When the lightnings play,
Nor don’t you hate where Bees are,
Or else they’ll pine away.
Pine away — dwine away –
Anything to leave you!
But if you never grieve your Bees,
Your Bees’ll never grieve you.

 Rudyard Kipling

Just before we begin, I have opened a new page 'Grown from Home' which will have lots of tips about growing herbs etc and what to do with them. I will also post tips about keeping hens and a wildlife pond. Enjoy tonight's bedtime story....and thank you for calling in..Jill

She opened her eyes and looked around. She was alone on the shiny green leaf with the sun shining down.  

      ‘If you don’t do something,’ someone shouted, ‘you will certainly die and never become a beautiful butterfly!’

      She turned her head and saw that the voice belonged to someone on another leaf close by.

      ‘But I don’t want to die,’ she answered crossly, ‘I just don’t know what to do. I’ve been left here all alone with no instructions, none whatsoever!’

      ‘To begin with,’ he answered, trying not to laugh, ‘my name is Lanto. And no-one arrives here with a set of instructions,’ he tried to sound serious. ‘It’s supposed to come naturally...well to most caterpillars.’  

      ‘Well I’m not natural,’ she said sulkily, ‘You see, I haven’t even got a name.’

      Lanto laid back on the shiny green leaf and thought. He tried to think of an appropriate name for this rather alluring caterpillar. He was sure that she would one day be the most beautiful butterfly he would ever see.

      ‘Your name is Anwen!’  said Lanto excitedly. ‘It means very beautiful and that’s what you will be...one day soon.’

      ‘I like it,’ said Anwen proudly. ‘And you will be a handsome butterfly too.’ 

      ‘Now listen to me carefully,’ said Lanto. ‘You need to make yourself a tent.’

      ‘A tent?’ said Anwen curiously.

      ‘Don’t ask any questions now,’ said Lanto with a hint of fear in his voice. ‘Time is running out and you need to protect yourself. Now listen to my instructions.’

      Lanto explained to Anwen what she had to do in order to become a butterfly.

      ‘You must place a leaf around you and spin a silk thread to hold you in.’   

      ‘But I’m frightened,’ cried Anwen. ‘I don’t like the dark!’

      ‘Hurry, please Anwen,’ begged Lanto, ‘It is too dangerous for you to wait any longer. Now I promise to be here when you emerge as a butterfly.’     

      Anwen took one last look at Lanto, before she locked herself inside her tent. She was about to cry when she heard Lanto sing.

     ‘I’m not far away,’ shouted Lanto, ‘I shall keep you company.’ And this is what he did until they both emerged as beautiful butterflies.

     ‘Anwen was the perfect name for you,’ said Lanto stretching his wings whilst admiring her.

     Anwen blushed.

     ‘Come!’ shouted Lanto as he flew from his leaf. ‘Come with me to the home for waifs and strays.’

How different life is when the sun shows its pretty little head!

     Sitting in the window of our home for waifs and strays, writing or painting is so much better when the sun shines. I look out and can see endless things to inspire me. Today I saw a pair of my old wellies and a pot of newly grown herbs. It’s that time of year again, I thought, the time when everything starts to grow, even the weeds.

     I really enjoy growing herbs and once had a field full of almost every herb you could think of. Today, I grow them mostly in pots. It’s a lot less work.  

     Many of us would like to open our kitchen door and pick a handful of herbs to add to our cooking. Or just to breath in the aromatic smell that floats up to greet us. It’s easy enough to do. Let’s take a look....

     Write a list of the herbs you would like to grow. Probably the ones you like to use or just to smell. I do both.

     Some herbs have no patience at all and grow fast, so you would be better off growing them at intervals. Here are a few of them: - Parsley, Dill, Chervil, Coriander and Basil. Some of the slower, easier going herbs are Thyme, Sage, Mint, Sorrell, Chives and Fennel, plus many more.

     Herbs, like most humans, prefer the sun but I have discovered that many, such as Parsley and Chives, will grow in the shade with little effort.

     If you’re growing herbs in pots then make sure there is plenty of drainage so you don’t drown all your hard work. Use soil based compost, this is quite important. It is also a good idea to feed your plants with a balanced fertiliser. Just another thought, I think it’s a good idea to water your plants in the morning rather than the evening, we all prefer a drop of water during the day to stop us drying out.

     You can put the seeds straight into your pots outdoors. Or alternatively, you can start them off indoors in trays. When planning where to put your herb pots, remember, if possible, to place them by a wall to protect them during the winter months. Also think sun and scent. Growing them close to the kitchen, makes it easy to snip some leaves when and as you need them. Also, they will surprise you with a wonderful aroma of natural smells.

      Many herbs will flower and attract bees; this is another wonder for your newly created garden.

      Just a little note or two...

      Herbs are the basis of all modern medicine. Tomorrow, I will write a few remedies for you to keep a note of.

      I also grow herbs and lettuce in empty bean cans on my windowsill, at our home for waifs and strays. This amuses my kind and unassuming husband and also many of the guests we have.

It’s late now. Thank you for calling. Pop in again tomorrow if you have the time!