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Viewpoint from Keith Morris 29/01/2016
 Keith Morris
Publisher, Network Norwich
Glimpse of eternity in a pot of honey
Recently I helped my parents move from my childhood home in Worcester down to Surrey after 47 years in the city
Needless to say, there was an awful lot of stuff in the house to be moved or thrown away
Happily, by the time the house was empty, one or two things had found their way back with my wife and me to our Norfolk home
 Pride of place went to a large jar of honey. But this was no ordinary jar
That pot of honey was particularly special for me because it was harvested by my grandfather Stanley Rogers – a keen and talented amateur beekeeper - from a set of hives he kept in his own Shropshire garden
But there was one other thing which made that pot so special for me – it brought back happy memories of Stanley, who sadly died some 13 years ago
Despite those passing years, the honey was in perfect condition, a bit crystalized maybe, but as sweet, if not sweeter, than the day it was created
 They say that honey is the eternal food and edible honey has been found by modern archaeologists in Egyptian tombs. No surprise then that the ancient Egyptians considered the work of the bee divine
Because honey is so thick, and contains hydrogen peroxide, it creates the perfect barrier against infection for wounds and was used as a wound healer in ancient times
Nectar, the material collected by bees to make honey, is known as the drink of the Gods and my grandfather’s honey was certainly this to me
When I first opened that jar of honey and spread some of it on a slice of toast, I started crying – which will come as no surprise to my wife or children, as I am a soppy old thing. For the smell and sweet taste of that honey instantly brought back priceless memories to me.
Memories of Stanley sitting in his kitchen, putting a spoonful of honey into his tea, served in a delicate china cup, watched by my grandmother Theckla, and him showing us proudly around his garden, including the bee hives
We know that in human form at least, none of us will live forever like honey does, but we can live on for a while in the memories of our nearest and dearest
I hope that my children, and maybe one day grandchildren, have memories of me that are just as sweet as those I still have of Stanley
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