Today's edition is about my conversation with Andy Massey at Cedars Park following the handover of his award as 2025 Broxtown Community Champion. We walked and talked, and he showed me round the area where they preserve bees in the park. This editorial gives an insight into what happens at the centre and what Andy does there.

What you won't see unless you know where to look is the extraordinary work happening in this secluded corner: saving endangered species, rescuing injured wildlife, and quietly changing lives. This isn't about council initiatives or big budgets. This is about ordinary people doing extraordinary things, asking for nothing in return.

"All people want is honey," Andy tells me at the bee centre. "They're not interested in how it comes about. That's important because all the building works around here is killing off the foraging area of bees."

Bees have lived in Cedars Park for 400 years. Four centuries of pollinating, maintaining the ecosystem. But development is encroaching, foraging areas are disappearing, and council meetings where Andy pleads for consideration fall on deaf ears.

"A lot of it falls on deaf ears. But at least I can try."

The bee centre is an educational project showing what beekeeping really involves. Andy has skeps, the traditional baskets used 2,000 years ago, and examples of different hive types showing the progression to modern beekeeping.

The reality is harsh. Andy expects to lose 50% of hives over winter. "We lose about 70% of our actual hives. But our nucs have 80% survival rate."

These aren't just insects. They're registered as livestock with the government. But nature must be allowed to work. "If you interfere too much, it goes against what beekeeping's all about. Some people wrap them in blankets to keep them warm. Then they get condensation. Condensation kills. Nature knows how to deal with itself."

Behind the bee centre is a hedgehog rehabilitation facility. "We take in sick hedgehogs who are underweight, build them up, then release them to the wild."

A tiny hedgehog, barely three weeks old when she arrived, now hibernates safely. Six baby hedgehogs are in care after their mother escaped. Wild cameras monitor them. "This year, we'll open this up and they can go wild. We may take two or three to a different park because they're territorial. You can't release them all together because they will fight."

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In King James's Room, a converted shed, something profound happens. "We have people who feel safe here. They come in, lock themselves in, and do as much or as little as they want."

Andy won't elaborate on individual stories. That's between him and them. But he can tell me this: "When you see somebody at rock bottom, and then you see their attitude change, it's mind blowing. That to me is worth everything. That's why I don't mention myself anywhere. It's not about me. It's about other people."

The shed is where they make pure beeswax candles from honey harvest, each taking ten washes to achieve golden colour. Everything is sourced from the park. Wood from fallen trees becomes furniture. Beeswax becomes candles. Nothing goes to waste.

It's a shop raising funds for Friends of Cedars Park. But more importantly, it's where broken people heal. Where men who've lost their way find purpose in sanding wood, pouring wax, creating something useful.

"We see people walking around and we know when they're low, and we can talk to them. But they all know us."

Andy keeps returning to one name: Phil. His sign maker friend who creates all the centre's signage free. "That must have cost him a thousand pounds worth of stuff. He prints it all free for us."

Then there's Michelle running the shed. The gardening volunteers maintaining flower beds. Ladies looking after orchards, the pond, the paths. Three gardening groups, all volunteers, all giving freely.

This is the pattern: silent contributions, unrecognised effort, people giving without acknowledgement. Andy spends every day at the park. Not because it's his job, but because he can. "I'm quite lucky because I'm retired and spend every day here."

Andy's voice grows urgent discussing development. Building works are destroying bees' foraging areas. Council meetings produce sympathetic nods but little action.

"I go to meetings and say, 'You need to do more. Flat roofs, preserve them.' A lot falls on deaf ears. But at least I can try."

Eight out of ten food crops depend on bee pollination. Without bees, our food system collapses. But developers see empty space and opportunity. They don't see 400 years of ecological history.

Local building companies dispose of materials that Friends of Cedars Park could repurpose. "We want local companies to come over and see what we do. They have materials they dispose of that we could use."

You might not care about bees. You might never visit Cedars Park. You might think hedgehog rehabilitation is a nice hobby.

But here's what you're missing: this is about what kind of community we want to be.

Do we want a place where people who've hit rock bottom have somewhere to go? Where they can work with wood, pour candles, and piece their lives back together? Or where mental health services are overwhelmed and people slip through cracks?

Do we want a place where 400 years of ecological history is preserved? Where children learn honey comes from creatures needing protection? Or another homogenised development with token green spaces?

On Christmas Day, the shed opens to give out free coffee and mince pies. "Because that's what it's about," Andy says. Community. Connection. Care.

Friends of Cedars Park need three things urgently.

First, building companies must stop treating end-of-job materials as rubbish. That timber, those fixtures are resources funding education programmes and conservation work.

Second, the council must take development concerns seriously. Not sympathetic nods, but policy changes protecting foraging areas and mandating green roofs.

Third, they need you. Buy a beeswax candle. Volunteer Wednesday mornings, 10 to 1. Spread the word about this work.

Andy wants Cedars Park as a proper educational centre, charging £35 for bee experiences but bringing in groups who can't afford it, offering donated experiences to schools and community organisations.

He has a miniature beehive for community talks, showing people who can't visit what beekeeping involves. Friends of Cedars Park are funding renovation of the original Friends Group sign from the mid-1980s, found rotting by a tree.

This isn't about Andy Massey, despite his Community Champion award. It's not even about bees and hedgehogs, though they're important.

It's about what we choose to value. Whether we notice quiet heroes working in the background, asking nothing, giving everything.

"It's not about me," Andy says again. "It's other people."

That's exactly why it matters. In a world demanding we promote ourselves, brand ourselves, monetise ourselves, here's a man who just wants to keep bees, rescue hedgehogs, and help broken people find their way back.

Friends of Cedars Park meet Wednesday mornings, 10am to 1pm. The work continues year-round. Four hundred years of bee history hangs in balance. Vulnerable hedgehogs need care. People at rock bottom need somewhere safe.

If you've ever walked through Cedars Park and enjoyed the trees, the peace, the sense of history, you owe that experience to volunteers you've never met doing work you've never seen.

Maybe it's time we changed that.

Friends of Cedars Park welcome volunteers, material donations from local building companies, and visitors wanting to learn about beekeeping and conservation. Visit Wednesday mornings or contact them through their Facebook page.

Special thanks to Phil, whose generosity makes this work possible, and all unnamed volunteers maintaining this historic park.

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Have a fab day!

Cheers,
Editor-in-chief | Emeka Ogbonnaya

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