Wired

After the recent electrical trippings I'd told Mike (electrician) I'd meet him at 9.15, to give him time to look for the problem before we opened. At 9.15 a man walked through the door, "Are you Mike? said I. "Mark" said the man, who turned out to be a very tired antiques dealer. "They call me Lovejoy" he said, and he needed strong coffee and a bacon sandwich before he continued on to Ludlow. What he got was coffee and a toasted teacake which had to be put together in olympic time as Kevin (not Mike as it turned out) had his hand on the switches ready to cut the power. Kevin spent the next half hour explaining to me what was going wrong with the ringmain, and which switches governed which bits. He kept saying: "what people don't understand is..." and then talked about something I just couldn't understand.
I am now looking towards the end of the week - 20 booked for a lunch on Thursday, two very large tea parties (one of 34) on Friday.
And then.
On Saturday:
the Vegan 5.
Eek.