Allotments are, by and large, industrious, but calm and reflective places.

This weekend mine was anything but, when hundreds of revellers descended on my plot.

My allotment was the scene of a bee rave.

They were jigging all over the chives, rolling intoxicated on the welsh onion pom-poms, dancing stylishly across the last lacecaps of sweet cicely, and descending determindly on the globes of  angelica as if they were indeed glitter balls in some mad disco, with a free bar.

Like the plant flowers, the bees were of mixed colour and size, but all buzzing the same note of happiness.

It was utterly joyous – Glastonbury for bees.

Sadly this was a select event and not one repeated on any of the other plots on the site. Of course they will all be glad of the bees when they’ve yards of runner beans that need pollinating, but none of them have filled the bees’ hungry gap.

I might put a sign up naming my patch – Ib-Bee-Za

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