That's How It Happened

Yesterday was finally the day when my brother and I were called to Windsor to collect our consignment of bees. We had been pre-warned by the bee-nerd in the shop that the bees would arrive "in a bee carrying case". That's six frames of honey, wax, and larvae, sealed in a small wooden box with 15,000 angry bees. We drove them to our parent's house with some trepidation, well aware that a crash smashing open the hive would result in death for us both from anaphylaxis.
At home we donned our gloves and veils and removed the hive stopper. It was stunning watching the bees pour out to explore their new home. A quick flick through "Bee-keeping For Dummies", suggested that gloves were amateurish. Feeling brave I rejected mine, and was instantly stung. More in depth scrutiny of the text suggested that wearing dark wool was certain to provoke stings, because of one's resemblence to a bear. Lesson very firmly learned.
After allowing the bees 24 hours to navigate round the garden we then had to trick them into their new permanent hive. We did this by smoking them into submission, then swapping the main hive into the exact spot where the carrying case had stood. Cracking open the mini-hive we were enveloped in an insane buzzing swarm. My brother was miserably hung-over, but he managed to spot the precious queen on the fourth frame. Very gently we transferred all the frames, and filled the extra space with freshly wired new frames.
15 minutes later everything had settled down. Foragers were soon returning to the hive laden with pollen, and most of the dislodged bees seemed to have found their way home. Unfortunately my parents will also be finding their way home tomorrow. Their garden is a lot less habitable now, but so much more fertile and productive. The next bee update is due in a fortnight when we have to go back for the first inspection.