A few weeks ago an envelope arrived in the post addressed to The Garden Tea Rooms. 

Inside was an old postcard. 

No message. 

It appears there used to be two other tea rooms in the small village of Great Witley once upon a time. This one was definitely there in the late 1960s and possibly as early as the 1940s. It had a truck stop next to it. The other one was a particular favourite of those who came to fish from the River Teme. 

I wish I could thank whoever was kind enough to send the postcard to us for sparking a good number of conversations and memories.

Bin there. Done that.

Today Anne came to rearrange the contents of the lockable display cabinets from which we sell local crafts. 

We couldn’t find the key. We searched. And searched. Took everything off the shelf where it normally lives. Nothing. I searched through the bin which sits pretty much underneath the shelf. A bin full of coffee grounds and used tea bags, cheesy baking parchment and cake crumbs. 

Nothing.

I called a locksmith who said he could open them up but probably didn’t have the right sort of lock to replace them.

I put on some gloves and went to the big bins full of rubbish gathered since last Thursday. Took a deep breath and started my search. This tale has a happy ending. But it’ll take me a while to get over the experience. 

Eau no

 I haven’t posted this season. So much that happens has happened before so it doesn’t feel worth writing about. 

Today we faced a new challenge. A burst water main somewhere left us with very low water pressure. We muddled through as best we could. 

Then the supply dried up completely. We had no choice but to stop serving and tell everyone that (as we couldn’t make tea or wash up and as the loos were out of action) we’d be closing.

An hour later and the taps were back to full strength.

This customer wins the prize for most appropriately dressed.

Without Fire

2023 is proving such an odd season. 

Lots and lots of rain. Lots and lots of wasps. And now, as September arrives, the sunshine turns up.

Finally the weather apps and websites are in agreement and the gazebos can stay up in the garden without us being in fear of storms or gusts. Unless they’re all wrong of course.

Today was the third in a row that we ran out of our panini rolls. Yes, I did order more. Every day. So tomorrow I’ve ordered even more. Let’s see how that goes.

Yesterday I advised a man that we don’t allow smoking in the garden. He nodded and carried on. I watched him as I cleared tables in the garden and all the while I was there he continued to smoke. 

After his lunch he lit another cigarette. I girded my loins and approached again. “Just a reminder, sir, that we ask you not to smoke in the garden.”

“I’ll be finishing this one” he said.

“You finished the last one,” I countered.

“I didn’t actually,” he said, “I put it out”.

I lost. He won. 

Old. But not that old.

 If you visit the tearooms I will usually ask if you have seen the Church. If you haven’t then I will suggest that you do, “it’s the only one of its kind in the country”, I’ll cajole, “don’t leave without sticking you head in” I’ll urge, knowing that once your head is in you probably won’t be able to resist looking up at the painted ceiling or gazing at all the different enamelled, story-telling windows. 

If you have already been in I’ll ask if you know that the current interior was added long after it was first built? That the spectacular windows and oil-on-canvas painted ceiling was brought from a different chapel in the middle of the 18th Century.

I was having this very conversation with a couple yesterday. I added that before the new interior was brought up from The Duke of Chandos’ chapel in Edgware our church had actually been quite plain. 

“Do you remember it when it was like that?” she asked me.

I’m now looking into buying anti-wrinkle cream. 

Glorious gloriosa

This plant is new to our conservatory. It demands attention because it’s spectacularly beautiful. It’s called Gloriosa, aka Flame Lily. I am forcing anyone who’s vaguely interested to follow me inside to see it. 

 

What a napkin is really for.

 I hope I never get tired of reading lovely anonymous notes from visitors. 

Thank you to whoever left us this.