I really needed a wee.....

There are some situations you get yourself into where, looking back, you really should have thought things through a bit more. This was definitely one of them.

We were up on the heather moors moving bees, I was with my dad, we'd been busy for hours and, somewhere along the way, I realised I needed a wee.

And I mean I really needed a wee. I was absolutely busting.

You know when you've left it so long that you're at the point where you don't even want to move too quickly because you're worried something might happen? Yeah. That.

The problem was, obviously, that I was in a full bee suit, in the middle of the moors. There wasn't a toilet anywhere nearby and we couldn't exactly just nip into the nearest shop. I looked around and started thinking about what I could do. Then I spotted the wall, and on the other side was another field.

Perfect, I thought. I'll just jump over there, take my bee suit off and have a quick wee. Easy. Back in five minutes.

So I climb over the wall, start taking my bee suit off and I'm honestly just thinking thank god. I was so desperate by this point that I was basically already celebrating the fact I was finally going to get to the toilet.

I get my pants down and, just as I'm about to go, I notice a bee flying around my head.

Then another.

Then another.

I wasn't particularly bothered at first. There were bees everywhere. We'd been moving them all day. Then one got caught in my hair.

And because I've got dreadlocks, it didn't just fly off.

It got stuck.

Then another one got stuck.

Then another.

And suddenly I've got bees tangled up in my hair and they're not particularly happy about it. I'm trying to get them out, they're buzzing around my head and then they start stinging me.

On my scalp.

I'm still stood there with my pants down, I'm absolutely busting for a wee and now I've got bees stuck in my hair. At this point the wee had gone completely out of my mind. I just wanted the bees out.

So I started shouting for my dad.

“DAD!”

Nothing.

“DAD!”

Still nothing.

“DAD! HELP!”

Eventually he came over and I'm pretty sure the sight he was greeted with was quite funny. I'm stood in the middle of a field with my pants down, pink bee suit around my ankles covered in bees, trying to get them out of my dreadlocks and shouting for help.

And what did my dad do?

He laughed.

Just laughed at me.

To be fair, I probably would have laughed too if I'd been watching someone else. But at the time I wasn't particularly amused. 

I remember giving up trying to get the bees out my hair, so I yanked my pants back up and then I just legged it back to the van. I don't think I've ever got into a van so quickly.

Once we were back, we realised I'd been stung about 20 times, the scalp is the worst place to stung! We were sat their in the van, dad picking stingers out of my scalp whilst laughing his head off.

And the worst thing is, I still needed a wee.

My dad was still laughing. 

I'd had enough of the great outdoors for one afternoon. So we carried on moving the bees, I eventually found somewhere considerably safer to have a wee, and I learnt a very important lesson.

If you're ever on the heather moors, wearing a bee suit, absolutely busting for a wee and you spot an empty field over a wall...

Just hold it.

Because 20 stings to the head is a lot to go through for a wee.