‘Zip my head in,’ he said, after climbing into a white jumpsuit with a mesh helmet.
It was a beekeeper’s outfit, but the effect was less apicultural and more like the scene in E.T. where the special agents in biohazard suits come for the alien. The builder boyfriend was struggling with the zip around his neck so I made sure it was shut.
He then fussed with the arms and legs so much, worrying about gaps, that in the end I used gaffer tape to tape his wrists and ankles. ‘Now you look like a Teletubby,’ I said. ‘Foot the ladder, will you?’ he asked.
The BB had come home with a beekeeper’s suit after doing a roofing job for a lady living up a nearby mountain who had been trying to live with a vast colony of wasps.
The lefties in West Cork are mad for bees and wasps, to the extent that they will do anything to make them happy.
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