She first joined Wimbledon Beekeepers before becoming a member of the London Beekeepers Association, where she took her basic bee exam. She then shadowed a Peckham beekeeper, and together they visited apiaries all over London, before Carole was eventually asked to run an apiary in St Paul’s Church.
Not only is she a black beekeeper in London, which is a rarity in itself, but Carole has a hot-pink bee suit. She talks us through the inspection of her apiary: “This is the pacifier, but I haven’t actually used it. That’s how calm these bees are.” And she’s right, the bees lazily hover around us.
As Carole gets to work efficiently in her hot-pink suit, there’s something so refreshing about her hypervisibility. She is like a rare flower attracting bees, and even a few people come over. I’m not sure if this is because it is peculiar to see an apiary in Waterloo, if it’s her bright suit, or the combination of the two associated with a black woman.
One woman stands in silence observing and then leaves. Then a construction worker in a hi-vis comes over and asks if the bees will sting – to which Carole shrugs. “Not a sensible move,” she says after he leaves. “They’re very calm bees, but if you come over here in yellow…”
Carole also simplifies the process for me. “Honey actually goes through the bee,” she says. “It’s like bee vomit.” Before now, the honey-making process was something I had never thought about. “They are Italian bees,” she explains. “Where people might have pets or children, I have the bees.” And you can tell she truly does love each one as if they were her child; Carole often refers to the queen bee as “girl” – it’s endearing. In a full season, an apiary can have around 80,000 bees, but Carole only has about 30,000 bees now, which she explains “is a miracle”.