Bees

I like bees. A lot. Don't get me wrong; I'm a little wary of them because, let's face it, they can sting. But I've never been stung and I love their industriousness to the point of seriously considering getting a beehive for the garden. However, it strikes me as a bit more of a commitment than I can manage, so, for now at least, the Minx has planted some bee friendly flowers. 

The worker bee is one of the symbols associated with Manchester, first adopted around the time of the industrial revolution. Over the time I've been seeing the Minx, and consequently spending more time in Manchester, it seems to have been becoming more and more visible, massively so since the Arena bombing, last year. A couple of my friends now have bee tattoos and, if I was a tattoo kind of guy, I think I'd fancy one myself. 

Today, I went into Manchester with Dom for a meeting with a chap who I think might do a bit of work with us, and I saw this splendid fellow just outside Piccadilly Station. (I usually use the side exit!)

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‘A History Of Seven Killings’ by Marlon James