Wet

If I ever thought it had rained before I was wrong.
Today it rained and rained and it didn't stop. Only a few hardy (and wet) souls made it to us. Even the usually favoured conservatory proved inhospitable because of the rain hammering down on the glass.
There is a bright side - the trade lull allowed us to wash and count all the vintage cups and saucers for the wedding, to sweep the conservatory, to polish the cutlery, to clear shelves, to check we have enough pastry forks (we don't).
We also managed to make three more three-tiered cake stands.
What do I do with it all when this wedding's over?

Gritted Teeth

Grrr.
Yesterday morning was a bit of a struggle.
People rang the bell for attention when I was in the middle of delivering an order and then didn't know what they wanted.
A woman in the conservatory plucked a lunchbox from her bag and started eating her own sandwiches. A bunch of people who wanted to buy plants put them all on the counter spilling soil as they did so.
By the afternoon I and my anxiety had settled down and we were enjoying it all again.
A pleasant batch of afternoon customers ensured the day returned to normal.
We can all have an off-morning.
She says, defensively.

Be happy.

In just over two weeks we'll be catering our first big wedding - 110 people in a marquee in our garden. It's for this that I've been buying all that china, all those cake stands, all those cups and saucers and teapots.
This morning, many months after first suggesting a range of High Tea sandwiches, mini quiche, mini toad-in-the-hole, scones and cakes, I held a taster session for the bride and groom and bride's mum and dad. If the wedding itself goes as well as this morning did then I'll have no need to worry.
However I reckon I'll start losing sleep about now.
I'll start waking up with questions and concerns in the middle of the night.
I'll write lists of things I must remember to order.
I'll worry that the list is not complete.
I'll wonder whatever possessed me to agree to take on someone's biggest day.
Such is my lot.

The Cavalry

It was wet. It was chilly. It was overcast.
I rang Becky to tell her not to bother to come in.
Thankfully she came anyway to collect paperwork and was in an apron in seconds as family after family arrived ALL AT THE SAME TIME* and ordered quiche, sandwiches, gallons of hot chocolate and lots of cake.
A friend who'd popped in for lunch was also roped in to help for a weirdly busy hour and a half.
And then it stopped.

*my shouting

Trumpet.

English Heritage looks after Witley Court and doesn't have its own tea rooms because they have us. Every year the 'eritage sends in a mystery shopper to test its staff and facilities. And the private eye comes to us too to see how we fare.
We've just had the feedback.
The secret guest ordered tea, cake and a sandwich which they said was "fresh, very tasty and good quality produce." They added: "the food looked appealing and was a good portion size".
Fab.
They commented further: "the café has plenty of space and places to sit, the tables were not close together which was nice".
Great.
My favourite comment (apart from stating that the atmosphere was "chilled out, exactly what I like") was about us: "The staff were clean and tidy, they looked well dressed and did not have any food on their clothes*."
I would so love to be a secret shopper....

*my italics

Un oeuf is enough

It's been a very good few days since the sun returned. Lovely and busy.
Today I woke to rain and expected the worst. Thankfully proved wrong.
People with umbrellas came. They filled the conservatory and the main room and ate jacket potatoes and ham and cheddar panini (see, lesson learnt). Then a coach party of Nottingham Mechanics arrived for tea and cake (they favoured millionaire's shortbread). They were not mechanics. They were a bunch of ladies and gents who formed a group originally one of the many Mechanics Institutes which apparently flourished in the 19th Century.
This morning I rang our local egg farmer to ask for two trays. He brought them straight away including an enormous egg especially for me. I hadn't seen an obviously double-yolk egg for years. Turns out that's because he's not allowed to sell them.

Instant hit.

"I'd like one of those coffees," he said.
Latte? No
Cappuccino? No
Filter? Americano?
"No, no no," he wrinkled his nose, "Too many chemicals. I just want one you spoon into a cup."
Instant?
"That's it," he said.
Sadly for him, of all the coffees we offer instant isn't one of them. A fact of which I'm rather proud. Too many chemicals?
He had a glass of milk. His wife had a hot chocolate.
I hope he bought a jar on his way home.