On this day, three years ago, I noted a startling insight from the Today programme on Radio Four:
There are differences in the ways serial killers and bees behave, obviously.
Thus spake serial-killer-and-bee expert Dr Nigel Rayne. Obviously.
Hooting Yard
I remember that. I also distinctly remember you recording these antics earlier that year:
“5.15 AM : Leap out of bed and plump myself in front of the beecam. Become enthralled.
“7.24 AM : Consider basic needs, such as washing and dressing and eating a hearty breakfast of kedgeree and bloaters and smokers’ poptarts, but am so overwhelmed by the beecam that I postpone any activity.
“11.45 AM : Bee-haunted.
“3.00 PM : Numb to the human world. Beginning to think like a bee. Making occasional buzzing noises.
“3.14 PM : Nip away from the beecam momentarily to don yellow-and-black striped leotard and black hat with antennae.
“7.52 PM : Recall that I planned to write something daily for the Hooting Yard page. Am too transfixed by the beecam to move.
“11.35 PM : Realise that I have spent the entire day observing either bees or the absence of bees on the beecam. Suffused with a warm glow of bee-ness. Continue to watch bees with now bleary eyes. Make a mental note to explain to readers that “bleary-eyed” has nothing to do with terrifying diminutive MP Hazel Blears.
“1.07 AM : Drag myself reluctantly from beecam to bed. As I fall asleep, reflect upon the fact that I have never had so bee-centred a day as the day just gone. Resolve to be even more bee-minded in future.”
That leaves a lot of the day unaccounted for. No black outs, or anything like that?