"Black coffee please and a scone with jam and cream," she said.
But she didn't really mean it.
I delivered the order to the table.
"May I have some milk for my coffee?" she said.
I apologised. Said I thought, wrongly, that she wanted it black.
"Oh I probably ordered black. I'm always doing that."
Then there was the lady who asked if the soup was gluten-free.
Yes it is. Always. Although we don't have gluten-free bread to go with it (must do something about that).
She had the bread anyway.
Then she ordered a gluten-free orange, carrot and sultana cake.
When we took it to her she greeted it warmly: "I don't suppose this will be as nice as the cake I had 2 days ago."
Hmmm.
When I next went through the plate was clean.
And she was eating a scone.
Our scones are not gluten-free.
But that didn't seem to worry her.
Then there was the lady who told me she'd really enjoyed her jacket potato.
"It's been a lovely interlude here," she beamed, "and it's my 85th birthday."
She was another who had to look to the gluten-free cakes on offer. I took her the ginger and lemon with a candle in it.
As I approached the table everyone in the conservatory started to sing.
I found out her name during line 2 and shouted it to the choir before the crucial bit.
"Happy Birthday dear Betty..."
Her daughter told me she was chuffed to bits.
Tuesday, 30 April 2013
Tuesday, 23 April 2013
Remote Control
My father arrived this morning with more plants for the conservatory.
He is my head gardener* and I pay him in coffee.
Today he's put in six oleander of different hues.
But the most interesting thing about this tale is that he bought them from a television shopping channel.
Which means he was watching a tv shopping channel.
Am now worried he might become addicted and blow my inheritance.
*only gardener
He is my head gardener* and I pay him in coffee.
Today he's put in six oleander of different hues.
But the most interesting thing about this tale is that he bought them from a television shopping channel.
Which means he was watching a tv shopping channel.
Am now worried he might become addicted and blow my inheritance.
Monday, 22 April 2013
Really not our bag
Sunday.
Noah was baptised in the Church and came to us for his family celebration with 34 friends and family members.
He had a wonderful Ark cake with big-eyed animals all over it.
He's ten months old so it was eaten for him as he slept.
Then later a double birthday High Tea.
Sandwiches, cakes, scones with jam and cream, pots and pots of tea and multiple smiles.
Some people from the group which came yesterday returned for lunch and to collect a bag they'd left. An enormous green flowery hold-all which we'd found in the garden at close of play.
After their lunch yesterday I cleared their table and saw that they'd not only left it again but had also forgotten a second bag. Bags and owners have now been reunited.
I have had such a glorious weekend.
More of the same please.
Noah was baptised in the Church and came to us for his family celebration with 34 friends and family members.
He had a wonderful Ark cake with big-eyed animals all over it.
He's ten months old so it was eaten for him as he slept.
Then later a double birthday High Tea.
Sandwiches, cakes, scones with jam and cream, pots and pots of tea and multiple smiles.
Some people from the group which came yesterday returned for lunch and to collect a bag they'd left. An enormous green flowery hold-all which we'd found in the garden at close of play.
After their lunch yesterday I cleared their table and saw that they'd not only left it again but had also forgotten a second bag. Bags and owners have now been reunited.
I have had such a glorious weekend.
More of the same please.
Parish in the Spring
Saturday.
44 people, all descendants of rectors of the village going back to the early 19thC, arrived on a warm sunny morning. Most had never met anyone else there but it felt like a school reunion. They had coffee in the garden, swapped archive material and photos of The Old Rectory and its former inhabitants and then went off for a talk in the Church, saw the newly opened crypt and came back for lunch.
Among them was Josceline Dimbleby whose book, The Cook's Companion, has been very well loved and used in our house.
It's a bit dog eared to be honest, but that didn't stop me asking her to sign it.
And the visitors' book.
After she'd complimented the homemade rhubarb and orange cake and homemade honey ice cream. Once I was confident that she'd write something lovely.
The group left for Abberley Hall but in late afternoon several of them came back for tea and cake. And then yesterday another group of them came back for lunch.
Am really chuffed.
44 people, all descendants of rectors of the village going back to the early 19thC, arrived on a warm sunny morning. Most had never met anyone else there but it felt like a school reunion. They had coffee in the garden, swapped archive material and photos of The Old Rectory and its former inhabitants and then went off for a talk in the Church, saw the newly opened crypt and came back for lunch.
Among them was Josceline Dimbleby whose book, The Cook's Companion, has been very well loved and used in our house.
It's a bit dog eared to be honest, but that didn't stop me asking her to sign it.
And the visitors' book.
After she'd complimented the homemade rhubarb and orange cake and homemade honey ice cream. Once I was confident that she'd write something lovely.
The group left for Abberley Hall but in late afternoon several of them came back for tea and cake. And then yesterday another group of them came back for lunch.
Am really chuffed.
Sunday, 21 April 2013
Friday, 19 April 2013
Wednesday, 17 April 2013
Twice shy
"An espresso long," he said.
"Ooo," I replied, "I don't know what that is."
He sighed. And, sort of, tutted. Enough to make me feel unworldly.
"It's a double espresso" (I think he may even have said "doppio" but I was concentrating hard so my inner Italian must've kicked in) "except you put water through the coffee twice.". He went on, slowly..."you ...push ...the ...double-espresso-button ....twice".
It felt wrong. But I did it.
"Ooo," I replied, "I don't know what that is."
He sighed. And, sort of, tutted. Enough to make me feel unworldly.
"It's a double espresso" (I think he may even have said "doppio" but I was concentrating hard so my inner Italian must've kicked in) "except you put water through the coffee twice.". He went on, slowly..."you ...push ...the ...double-espresso-button ....twice".
It felt wrong. But I did it.
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