Jane Warren
Roger’s hives haven’t made him a penny, but they have soothed his soul, fixed his arthritis and changed his world view
WHEN FORMER Army officer Roger Morgan-Grenville wakes in the morning, the first thing he thinks about is his busy social life. But for him there is no social distancing required. His friends are the bees who live in hives in a paddock at the bottom of his garden. And over the past couple of years, these highly social creatures have changed every aspect of his life for the better.
As operations officer for the Royal Green Jackets, Roger was a full-on action man.
He kept peace in Northern Ireland, served in the Falklands and played a key role in setting up the hugely successful charity Help For Heroes. On leaving the Army, he worked in the City, another demanding, stressful job.
As a diversion from his frantic life, Roger started beekeeping. And gradually, bit by bit, it took over his life, slowly shaping his outlook on the world without him even realising at first that it was happening.
“I loved every minute of Army life,” he admits. “I’ve had people throwing fridges at me from the top of buildings in Northern Ireland. I ran South Georgia after the Falklands War. I’ve dealt with Vietnamese refugees fleeing to Hong Kong.
“But I realised after I retired from the Army in 1986, that I needed to be permanently – almost comically – busy.
“The Green Jackets, where I was operations officer for the battalion, the colonel’s right hand man if you like, encouraged people who think like me. But as you grow up it’s important to unmask some of the attitude mistakes that one makes growing up.
“I was busy to the point where it was almost as if I was hiding something.”
Among his achievements was his role in setting up the veterans’ charity Help For Heroes in 2007. After that, he went into the City. “That was a life of suits, trade shows and containers coming in from far-off places,” he explains.
BUT NOW what began as a mid-life hobby has gone on to transform every aspect of existence for Roger, 60, and his wife Caroline. Where once their garden near the pretty market town of Petworth, West Sussex, was an immaculate world of neat borders and carefully clipped roses, it is now a bee-friendly riot of wildflowers and species specially chosen for their pollinating potential.
“We’ve planted the garden for the bees, having looked up the flowers they might like,” he says. “And we do
‘no mow May’. This means we don’t mow the grass in May to cover
‘the June gap’, between the blossoms of early spring and the flowers of summer. We are trying to allow food for the insects for as many of the 12 months of the year as we can.”
The garden is now an appealing tangle. “One of the most damaging things for nature is our obsession with ‘tidy’,” he adds.
“We have got into this mentality, but a weed is simply a flower out of place. So now we are relatively relaxed about all but the most invasive weeds.”
And this bee-centric lifestyle extends to Roger himself. Where once he was a smartly dressed officer and city slicker, the father of two now favours jeans with holes in the knees.
And the bees not only provide him with honey and companionship, they are also giving pain relief directly to his arthritis. In a curious
‘I get stung deliberately. I have arthritis and there’s something in the bee sting that reduces pain’
symbiosis, Roger is actively inviting the bees to sting him on a daily basis.
“I get stung deliberately,” he explains. “I have arthritis and there is a thing in a bee sting that is anti-arthritic. It may be completely medically unproven, but they definitely feel better and the pain is greatly reduced.
“Getting stung is a fact of life if you keep bees, but wearing jeans with holes in the knees has helped a lot.”
And this is not a short-term solution. “I’ve been doing this for four or five years,” he says proudly. “This is a magical thing.” Whether it is science or magic or a bit of both, it is clear that his new life has brought Roger other longterm benefits.
Becoming a beekeeper – even a self-confessed unsuccessful one – changed everything, even though he is yet to make a penny from his new obsession with the stuff.
Roger estimates that the first pots of honey cost £150 each to produce, due to the equipment required. Even now they would still work out at about £9 a pot.
“We haven’t sold a single one,” he admits. “But we eat a lot and they are lovely to give as a gift.”
But Roger feels the bees in his garden have been feeding his soul as well as his body.
“It’s been a gradual bending
TEAM: With his wife Caroline