Fanfare

So as I deliver tea to her table she says: do I know you? You look familiar?
I said I didn't think so. There was an awkward pause which forced me to speak. I mentioned a handful of places I've lived in case one hit the mark.
She shook her head.
"No," she said, "I think you've just got a common face."

As old as you feel.

It's a big weekend coming up. And not just for Her Majesty.
On Saturday Abi and Mike are getting married and we're serving their guests canapés while they have their photos taken in the Court.
On Sunday The William Byrd Singers are performing in the Church and we're serving them all lunch.
For the four day weekend we're offering hampers to those who'd like to picnic in the Court but don't want to make the sandwiches.
 
And my dad's coming in to help clear tables and wash up.
That's always interesting.
He tells everyone: "not bad for an 86 year old, eh?".
He's 77.

Long may the hat stay on

A really lovely weekend. Lots of people, lots of sunshine, lots of laughter.
Hot. But we didn't dare complain in case April returned. We just drank lots of hot tea.

Soup was relegated but folks still wanted jacket potatoes which wrong footed me on Friday. I decided not to cook any. Didn't think they'd be wanted and didn't want the oven overheating us. I'm not making that mistake again.

We've had fab comments about the food, the scones, the garden.
A man told us: I am seventy years old and that's the best ham and cheese sandwich I've ever had.

More days like these please.

No vest required.

I had forgotten what it feels like.
To feel really warm.
To be really busy.
To need the fans on in the kitchen and the serving area.
To have almost* every customer sitting outside.
To raise the parasols over the tables.

We served SO many Lightwood cheddar ploughmans it became a bit of a production line. Freda made up the salads and added the king of cheeses. I was on filling ramekins: 1 with homemade coleslaw, 1 with pickle, 1 with silverskin onions. Then all that's left to fit onto the plate are the crisps and the cottage roll.
Light lunch? Pah.


*3 ladies chose the warm confines of the main tearoom for their Asparagus and Dolcelatte quiche.

Suspicious minds

Customer, pointing to her plate of Lightwood Cheddar ploughmans: Is that meat?
Me: That's our homemade coleslaw.
Customer: I can see pink in there (so raw meat then?)
Me: That's the red cabbage.

Today we have twelve cyclists booked in for lunch.
They're arriving by tandem.

PPPick up a Picnic

This is much better.
A great weekend of sunshine and visitors from all over including two Americans who asked if we had a "to-go box" when they couldn't finish all the cakes on their tiered stand. We had some grease proof paper, cling film and a box the ice cream comes in? Yes, that'll do.

I am plotting hampers for Jubilee weekend. English Heritage is promoting Witley Court as the ideal place to come and picnic so we're going to offer to do the hard work and all folks have to do is bring a rug. I'm hoping Julian, Dick, Anne, George and Timmy turn up.
And obviously the sun had better make an appearance.

It started as a slow but lovely day. People coming in twos and fours, chatting, eating, drinking. We always had something to do. But plenty of time to do it.
Then.
I looked out of the window in time to see a wave of pink lycra arriving.
Another peloton of cyclists, this time all female, had come all the way from Birmingham. They had soup and panini before grabbing their helmets and peddling off again in the rain.
Now I REALLY love cyclists.