Published Messenger Newspapers, Adelaide, November 13, 2002


STING NUMBS HORSE SENSE


PEACHES, I really like, and nectarines and plums, too, but not apricots - fresh, preserved or as jam - no way Jose, or Simon. As a kid, every backyard seemed to have an apricot tree in it and the smell of summer for me is still the sickly sweet smell of apricots rotting in the hot sun, maggot infested and squishy underfoot. Yuck, the smell hit me again just by thinking about it. The other day I was at a house warming and Simon T, one of the guests, mentioned that the apricot tree in his backyard at Parkside had set no fruit this year. Ho-hum, Simon, diddums. But when he blamed it on urban consolidation - uh-huh - I was, you might say, a lot more intrigued. Simon said he had been inspecting the tree that very morning and wondering why there were no apricots when it suddenly struck him ... he had seen no bees either this season. Given that fruit trees needed bees for pollination, he believed the two might be linked. Quite possibly. Assuming there was indeed a bee shortage, I suggested it might have been too cold for them although that was a guess. Frost perhaps? Pesticide? Or maybe the drought was to blame although I could not think why. I also threw in an aside about noticing some European wasps floating around my bedroom window last week, thinking the wasps might have driven away the bees. But Simon was not to be distracted. He thought the lack of bees had something to do with all the old houses being demolished to make way for the crowds of neo-Tuscan units that kept popping up everywhere. He said the bees no longer had roof spaces or sheltered eaves in which to build their hives, therefore no bees. Marginally possible, I supposed, though rather stretching it a bit. Matthew M, who had been standing there listening only because we were blocking his access to the Esky, said as a matter of fact there were plenty of bees at his place at Glengowrie. No bees at Parkside but lots at Glengowrie - hmmm, perhaps they were migrating towards the coast as they grew older, the same as humans. Obviously heading for retirement at Brighton. Or were they aspirational bees making for Holdfast Shores? Matthew worried about the bees stinging his little boys. I told him clearly the best way to deter bees was to plant an apricot tree, just ask Simon. We could have gone on like this all afternoon but fortunately a cold wind sprang up and I went home. The bees were still playing on my mind a couple of days later when I was seeking divine guidance, the tips of strangers, signs in the shape of clouds, or whatever, to try to pick the winner of the Melbourne Cup. Obviously all the omens pointed to Beekeeper, so I backed it for a win and a place, and threw in Miss Meliss as well because the name Melissa was Greek for "honey''. Beekeeper ran third, which at least meant I got some of my money back.
The winner Media Puzzle was too obvious for someone in my job and I had been stung before by going on gut feel.