Multiple choice (longer text)

For eleven years I worked as an accountant in an office in the city. The job paid well and my colleagues were friendly, but I spent most days looking at a screen, and by Friday I often felt I hadn’t done anything real. I didn’t hate my job. I just couldn’t imagine doing it for another twenty years.

Bees came into my life by accident. A neighbour kept two hives at the bottom of his garden, and one summer he broke his leg and asked me to help. I was terrified the first time I opened a hive. I wore so many clothes that I could hardly move. But after a few weeks, I found myself looking forward to Saturdays more than anything else. Watching the bees work was strangely relaxing.

I didn’t leave my job immediately. For three years I kept bees at weekends, took a course and slowly built up to twenty hives. I sold honey to friends, then at a farmers’ market. Only when the honey was earning half my office salary did I decide to leave. My parents thought I was crazy. My father kept asking what I would do if all the bees died. It was a fair question, and I didn’t have a good answer.

The first year was hard. A cold spring meant less honey than I had planned, and I had to use most of my savings. I also missed my colleagues more than I expected, because bees are not great at conversation. To meet people, I started giving talks in schools, which I now enjoy almost as much as the bees themselves.

Today I earn less than I did as an accountant, but I don’t spend money on expensive lunches or train tickets any more. Would I recommend a change like mine? Only if you plan carefully. Changing your life is exciting, but it isn’t a holiday.