Royal Tea

Some people really are organised. This morning I was contemplating whether I can be bothered to make any more mince pies when a Mrs Bowering called. Could I accommodate 50 people from Weston-Super-Mare for coffee and cake on 20th July 2011. Underneath a pile of yet-to-be-written Christmas cards I found next year's diary which now has 3 coach trips and a wedding booked in for next Summer.
I'm mulling over the Royal Wedding. I really need William and Kate to let me know what time their nuptuals are taking place. If they tie the royal knot in the morning I could throw a tea party in the afternoon. But if they were to choose, say, 2.30pm to exchange their vows I reckon folks will put up their own bunting and won't move from their homes. Would there be any point in opening at all?
My other question is how I approach my very clever sister-in-law to make me some Union Flag bunting? Maybe she'll stumble across this and will feel compelled to offer....?

In tents

I thought, wrongly, that I had pretty much done one of everything to do with the tea rooms. But late last week I had a call from a woman asking if they could put up a marquee in the garden next June, and could we serve a proper afternoon tea for 120 wedding guests.
Gulp.
I'm meeting the bride and groom on Friday.
She's a student, and he's a new graduate who has a real job.
As for how I'm passing all my days away from the tearooms? I know it was a bit of a joke. I know I mentioned the ironing A LOT. But I've just had 3 days at home with a sick son and I've finally reached the bottom of the two baskets. Two problems have arisen. One: I had to stop washing in order to finish ironing (otherwise it's a truly vicious circle). Two: by the time I reached the bottom I was ironing clothes my children have outgrown.

Font of all knowledge

Several things emerged during my first season. The signage needs addressing. The tea rooms is a long way down a bumpy track and several people commented that they were afraid they were going the wrong way. I also need to sort out a way of telling people that Witley Court, the Baroque Church and the tea rooms are all in the same place. I've lost count of the numbers of folk who ask the best way to get to the Court. I point them in the direction (walk 100m, turn right, another 100m, oh. there it is) and they say: "What? We're already here? We thought we'd have to drive to it." I'm thinking of trying to produce a leaflet. I have no knowledge of such things but George is reading a book about fonts (Just My Type) so that qualifies him to help.

Ouch

On Tuesday I was in London for a memorial service. In attendance were dozens of BBC friends and colleagues, many of whom I hadn't seen for years and who wanted to know about cake and the first season and whether I missed radio. Among them Louise who left at about the same time as I did and who is now doing up houses for a living. One of the reporters based outside London sat next to me. He didn't even know I wasn't working there anymore. We chatted and I mentioned Louise and her departure from radio. "Oh I know," he said, "now that's a REAL loss".
I used to like him.

Xtraordinary

I've been at home a lot more this week (ironing) and am surprised by how many times the 'phone rings.
It's rarely a friend.
Yesterday a lady called Shilpa rang to ask if I'd take part in a survey about the Halifax. I couldn't think of a reason not to, so for the next 11 minutes I responded to statements with the words "strongly agree", "slightly agree", "slightly disagree" or "strongly disagree". I can't imagine what possible benefit my comments will be to the bank.
Most of the statements were mundane. Then this one:
"In the past 3 months I have recommended a Halifax card machine to someone."
I've never recommended any card machine to anyone. And I've never had a card machine recommended to me. Are some better than others then?
Shilpa laughed (thankfully).
But she still needed a response.

Crumbs of Comfort

It's over. Despite looking forward to it I felt very sad yesterday as we headed towards the witching hour and the final door closing.
The weather was great for October so we were pleasantly busy for the last weekend. The trick was to end the season without lots of stock, while still having enough so that it didn't look like a closing down sale.
We sold out of tea cakes. And scones.
We have half a granary and half a white loaf left.
We've a four pinter of milk (bought yesterday afternoon in a panic that we'd run out too early) but that'll be fine for the gathering tomorrow. Freda, Mary, Nancie and Kate and I will be putting the tea rooms into hibernation. Bringing in the tables from outside, defrosting the freezers and fridges. That sort of thing. Then I'll start on the leftover cake.
On Friday we're going on a works outing - a day trip to Oxford with high tea for all. We'll see how they do it in Oxon and chat on the train about how much better our scones are.


As for this blog. I reckon I might update during the closed season on pertinent purchases or decisions. I have several issues to address before April 1st 2011 which will keep me busy. And all that leftover cake to get through.

Shiny Happy People

Children everywhere. Perhaps glitter as a decoration for the masks wasn't the best of ideas. The first four boys tipped both full tubes onto their masks rendering them empty. The table was covered in glitter. The floor was covered in glitter. One mum said: "I don't allow glitter at home. It's too messy." Hmmm. All the masks went so for the second evening in a row we made 30+.
Saturday dawns. The last weekend of the season. Two days left. Today and tomorrow.
I reckon I'll have loads of cake left over. Not such an awful problem to have.


8

Which is witch.

Another day which didn't make sense. Half term: yes. Pumpkin trail: yes. Weather: worse. Eerily quiet: NO. Had to call Freda in when it was obvious we would be much busier. We had a record panini day (21) and sold out. I can't remember what the jacket potato record is but I'm pretty sure we broke that too. We also sold out of cobweb cakes - at one stage I was icing to order. Icing cobwebs onto fairy cakes under pressure is no mean feat. For me.
Up early tomorrow to bake, ice and cut out masks. They all went too.



21

Eerily Quiet

I'll admit it. I don't understand. The forecast was good, it's half term, there's a pumpkin trail at the Court. We should have been very busy. I woke early worrying we wouldn't have enough staff. Instead we stood around for large parts of the day thumb-twiddling. On a brighter note the paninis proved popular again and the visiting kids seemed very happy with the cardboard bat masks which we'd put on a table to decorate with glitter and bits.
Witches' brew soup was made this morning. And we had a familiar sounding quiche of the day: ghosted vegetable and monsterella. My own children had fun this morning thinking up that one.


7

La Belle Day Off.

My family's annual day trip to France with friends meant I wasn't at the tea rooms yesterday when the half-term world descended. And ordered paninis. Hurray. And had to wait for them. Not such a huge hurray. The stash of cake was rapidly reduced so I'll be baking again tomorrow - cobweb cakes for the kids and lemon drizzle. I may even have to dust off my Victoria Sponge recipe at this rate.
I'm on a countdown to Sunday when we close our doors for Winter.


2.

& nonsense

Off today to buy ingredients for eyeball cakes and witches' brew soup.
I've also started to decorate the tea rooms for halloween but I fear I need more *stuff*.
The panini machine passed its electrical test yesterday so now all I need to do is work out what I'm going to put in them.

A Cut Above

That was the last of the stand-alone weekends. I don't like them very much. On Saturday morning we had to start from scratch - make chilli, cook ham, bake scones, make soup. Turned out to be a busy, pleasant day with lots of regular visitors. Yesterday was one of those gorgeous bright, sunny, dry and cold days so it was jacket-potatoes-a-go-go. Tomorrow I'm opening for an hour for the Barber Institute to have afternoon tea.
My attention must then turn to half term and my Halloween decorations. Woooooooooo (that was a ghost noise)

Tall tales

Six cups and saucers safely brought to Worcestershire from North Yorks after successful ebay purchase..
Panini machine sort of likewise. It's here but I have to get it checked out as it's been dropped.
In other news, George has now been inside the capsule which brought the miners up to the surface. He squeezed into it and claims it wasn't the size of his tummy which made him uncomfortable but rather that he was too tall for it.
Hmmm.

Addendum

The pigeon came back up.
Almost whole.
In the living room.

To catch the spider

Finally October delivered and people sat outside in the Sunday sunshine.
This weekend-opening lark is tricky though. I over-ordered bread AND milk AND cream. None of which will last til next weekend. I've frozen a couple of loaves and my family will be living on rice pudding for the foreseeable.
Having felt really guilty about the lack of dog exercising carried out this weekend I took Jess off to the local woods this morning for an hour and a half. How did she repay me? She found a dead pigeon. And ate it.
Now she's in the dog house.
Literally.

Touché

A good day when we ran out of soup. Again. This time A Taste of the Garden, followed by an utterly delicious Mildly Spiced Parsnip. The warm weather we'd been promised failed to materialise (deja vu) but I did manage to nip home and place a winning ebay bid on 6 cups and saucers in our no-longer-made range. The downside is that I have to go to North Yorkshire to pick them up.
Three ladies came for lunch and cake. They also went shopping. One bought a bird box, the second a necklace and a pair of earrings and the third 13 plants. They told me they don't get together often. Were they old school friends? I asked.
No. They were in a fencing team together.
Of course.

I'm alright, Jill.

The surprise was twofold: the good weather failed to materialise and we had a busy lunchtime.
Two members of the coach party came in early. They had their tea. their soup, their sandwiches. Two more arrived. They had their coffee, their soup, their sandwiches (this is going well, I thought). Unusually we'd made two seasonal soups: parsnip & apple and cream of spicy cauliflower. Both delicious. But I wish I hadn't bothered to give a choice. The problem was that 95% of the coach party wanted the first one. Which meant we ran out. So the people we served last got the raw end of the deal - we served them last and they didn't have a soup choice.
With one particular table this didn't go down well.
Still, the organiser (who DID get her choice of soup. Yes. Parsnip & Apple) was very happy.

Not so Chilly

It's been a lovely week *sigh*. The sun has shone and I'm sure a few folk would have enjoyed a cup of tea IF WE'D BEEN OPEN. Still. Back to it tomorrow when a coach party's due for lunch. The 42 Friends of Salisbury Cathedral have booked soup and sandwiches. I've had to buy more soup bowls. Today I went in to cook a ham and a lemon drizzle ahead of a weekend which the forecasters promise will be glorious. Is this what's known as "St Luke's little summer?".
George is going to Chile tomorrow to lend a hand with the trapped miners. Don't know when they'll be brought out. Don't know when he'll be back.

The beginning of the end

It rained. But people came. Not in huge numbers but enough to keep us from falling asleep.
Tomorrow is the first day the tea rooms will have closed since March 26th which means that at the end of today I brought home leftover cake, salad, cake, ham, cake, tomatoes, cake, tuna, cake. And more cake. Please don't let anyone be inspecting the kids' lunchboxes tomorrow.
Mary and I defrosted one of the freezers too.
Made me feel quite sad.
Which means I obviously am.

Each to their own.

Ah. Back to normal. If only for a day. Lots of lovely people who bought bird boxes, jewellery, plants as well as tea, cake and soup. We're back round to the beginning on soup. Way back in the spring we did that mildly-spiced-parsnip. Today we did mildly-spiced-parsnip-and-cauliflower. The cauliflower was rather lost in the mix but the soup went down well nevertheless.
The most surprising event of the day happened at lunchtime. Anna brought her family for lunch, coffee and cake. She ordered 4 pieces of cake: carrot, fruit, millionaire's shortbread and mystery cake. What's strange about that?
Anna MAKES my carrot and fruit cakes. She'd only just delivered a batch to me.
I'm still shaking my head in disbelief.
Rain due back in town tomorrow.

Perchance to Dream

This morning I woke to rain, rain and more rain. I knew we were in for a rotten day. It started in surprising fashion with a couple, three mums and their toddlers, a couple of sisters and a group of three. Then it stopped. Noone for ages. Then a mum and her 8 year old son (just collected from a nearby boarding school) came for the only lunches we did all day. Apart from our own.
At 2.30 Sue and I started to clear up. We'd decided to close at 3. No point in prolonging the agony. At 5 to 3 (you couldn't make it up) EIGHT people (at least three of whom were in Hunter wellies) and a dog came in, stood their umbrellas in the entrance hall, pulled a couple of large tables together and ordered tea and cake. Their order accounted for a third of the day's takings.
So that was the last full week of the season. Just weekends and half term left, then hibernation.

Thursday - last of the summer

Marginally better yesterday. A few more people came some of whom were even able to sit outside. Having seen that the rain (lots of it) was heading our way I put all the table umbrellas up to dry out and then in the afternoon took them inside for the Winter. It looks pretty bare outside now.
This morning the rain has arrived. I'm taking my book with me to work today.

I counted them in...

Dire day weather wise. Whatever happened to September as the month for an Indian Summer?
Today looked like this:
1000 Arrived and set up.
1155 A Canadian couple ordered two coffees.
1205 Three mums and three toddlers had coffee and lunch.
1300 Church steward came for his free coffee and a chat about bees.
1310 A man and three ladies had soup, jacket potato and sandwiches. Then millionaire's shortbread.
1345 A couple. He had two cappuccinos and a piece of cake. She had quiche and a latte.
1405 Older couple and daughter had 3 lattees and apple juice.
1600 The afternoon church steward came for his free tea and a chat about how quiet the day had been.
1635 A man came in to ask what time we closed, said he'd be in shortly. Really just wanted to use the loo.
1700 Lights out.

If you can't beat 'em.

I am planning a staff outing for the week after we close up for the Winter. To say thank you for all the hard work. After the experience at the weekend I am thinking of asking them all to bring a packed lunch. Then all we have to do is to find a really nice restaurant, order a glass of tap water each and get our own sandwiches out. Sorted.
Not the best of days trade-or weather-wise. The rest of the week looks pretty grim too, so I'm catching up on paperwork and ironing. Or trying to.

Bark and Bite

A very busy weekend. But it didn't take me by surprise. This time.
Yesterday (Saturday) we had Club 94, a group of 16 made up of men who all retired in 1994 from their jobs in a newtown creation quango (their words, not mine). They came with their wives and were delightful - funny, complimentary, nice. The early afternoon was marred only by a woman who ordered tea and then ate her own sandwiches in the conservatory. When I tackled her about it she said she was about to rehearse and couldn't rehearse on an empty stomach, her friends had eaten their lunch in the car but she'd been driving so she couldn't, and anyway she hadn't "done me out" of anything because she'd bought tea. Grrrrrrr. I thought her rude. Would she do that anywhere else I wonder?
She was a member of the Swansea Bach Choir who were performing in the Church last night and came to us after their rehearsal for sandwiches, cakes and tea at 6pm. All 31 of them. I only wish I could have barred her - turned into Babs Windsor and yelled "gerroutomyteeerumz". But I didn't.
Then today 51 for a buffet lunch. Protestant Church Musicians from all over Europe: Norway, Sweden, France, Latvia, Lithuania, Poland. They sang grace before they ate. Beautiful. They particularly liked scones with jam and cream, left a very generous tip and not much food.

Vegetunian

A miserable day but we had a group of fourteen ladies booked in for lunch. They hadn't preordered. The organiser told me weeks ago they were old school friends and didn't mind waiting for food - they always had plenty to chat about. The first one through the door scanned the menu on the board and wrinkled her nose. "Is that all you've got?" she said, still wrinkling.
I said I was sorry, but was there nothing that she liked?
"Not really," she said. More wrinkling.
Then: "I don't eat chicken." At this point I should point out that there's nothing involving chicken on the menu. Except eggs.
Then she said she was a vegetarian.
Then she ordered a tuna jacket potato. I didn't point out that tuna is a fish, and therefore was once alive.
Late afternoon a couple with an indistiguishable foreign accent and faultless English had coffee and cake. She was wrapped in a headscarf and said she'd dressed poorly for the cold weather.
They left a very nice comment in the visitors book. Turned out to be from Iceland.

Taking orders

41 came as planned, and 25 had ham salad, but they weren't all ladies. There was a smattering of husbands among them. I'd roped in Dad and my own husband who donned a pinny and wrote down orders at the till. He called me over only when faced with a debit card transaction. I told the lady in question that it was a day off from his real job. "Is he a vicar?" she said, "he's so placid and has the air of one."
Late in the afternoon there was a blessing up at the Church. The groom was American. A few of the guests came in for tea before the ceremony among them a lovely family from Los Angeles who had tea, teacakes and scones. They were SO complimentary about everything. They took their time over tea and strolled up to the Church at about 5 past 5.
The service was due to start at 5.
All the way from LA and they're late because of a scone.

Five a Day

"What's the soup?" asked the man on his own. We had two unusually: Courgette & Tomato and Courgette, Celery and Watercress (Peter in the village is growing a very good crop of courgettes this year and brings us a box each week). The man also ordered a slice of mystery cake. That's the mainly chocolate one with the mystery ingredient which is? Er. Courgette. He's had his ration for the season now.
Tomorrow 41 Rubery ladies arrive for a tour of the Court followed by lunch.
19 of them have ordered ham salad.

Early Bird

Arrived at 10 to open up after a trip to the cash and carry and the supermarket. A woman bringing leaflets about a concert in the Church next year came in at 1015 and told me about the concert, the leaflet, her husband's achilles injury, his badminton, his operation, their previous job and her current job. She bought a necklace. She wears a lot of big jewellery because as she's tall she can carry it off and she has two weddings to go to and quite a lot of clothes in the turquoise colour of the necklace, although she does already have a necklace in that colour, as well as one like the purple necklace on the second from bottom shelf.

Keep smiling through

A gloriously sunny return to Summer. The WI artists (and there were two men among them) numbered a staggering 19. They meet fortnightly to sketch and paint, and had never had such a good turnout. It proved to be a very busy lunchtime leaving them aside. There were just two of us working and we took a deep breath and just kept going as more and more people arrived. One of the ladies, with the words: "you can always count on the WI" began bringing in trays and washing up. Then Jean, eighty-something and stewarding today in the church, rolled up her sleeves and cleared and wiped tables. Said she really enjoyed it. Finally Sara arrived. I would say "fresh from playgroup" but I'm not sure that's possible. The peak was over, and there was only a bearded, flirtatious, solitary man from Northampton to remark that his wait for his jacket potato with coleslaw had been made worthwhile by my smile.
O.
K.

Easel Does It

I am now being asked every day when we'll be closing for the Winter. I ought really to put up a sign. Clearly there are plenty of regular visitors who know that the tea rooms goes into hibernation. They just need to know when. The answer is that we cease to open 7 days a week at the end of Sept. We open weekends in October (apart from a couple of weekdays when we've parties booked in) then the whole of half term week (final week of Oct) then close for the Winter on Sunday 31st October.
Today was overcast (and that's being charitable). Everyone sat inside until 3.30 after which, bizarrely, everyone sat outside. Tomorrow the WI artists are coming and I need to open up early which will be a little disappointing if there turns out to be only two of them.

Here's to Temperance

I learned a valuable lesson today.
Never, ever, ever try to do this job with a hangover.
Last night was the final village Come Dine With Me.
I'm never drinking again.

No jacket required

Strange day. NO jacket potatoes. Not a single one. It's like all the jacket spud lovers took the day off. Even the little dolphins, who ALWAYS eat jackets, didn't.
Tonight the first frost of the autumn is forecast. What will that do to the weekend?

Getting Fat

The pace has certainly slowed since the schools went back. It was Ita's last day of weekday work - she goes back to her teaching until next Summer. Today it suddenly feels like Autumn. Those who look at the bird boxes are muttering "Christmas" to each other (we sold the last of the batch today). My book group met tonight at a local pub which had "Merry Christmas" napkins on the table. It's clearly the season before the season to be jolly. The season when we start thinking about where and with whom we'll spend The Day this year, start squirrelling away suitable gifts, but tut loudly when the shops put tinsel on their shelves. Or is that just me?

For effect.

Dad-who'd-been-rumbled (12th September) was first through the door again today. "Either we have no imagination," he said, "or this place is the best to be found." With that as an opening remark today looked set to be a good day. Jacket potatoes ruled again and Mary and I discussed my plan to ditch the paté ploughmans from the menu next year. I'm looking for a suitable, simple replacement. George wants pork pie. But then he always does.
One couple this afternoon had two ham salads, a half-shot latte and an americano. The man complimented the coffee. "So often when you have a nice meal the coffee is a disappointment," he said. I brought him a second cup. As he was leaving he said: "I didn't like the second cup...pause...any more or less than the first." And he really did say "pause".

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

This morning I took the dog to the vets for one of those operations. I cried.
When I collected her she was a little unsteady on her feet (wouldn't you be?).
She's now sleeping, but will have to wear one of those cones for a few days. I feel like a heel. No pun intended.
When I opened up today I found a HUGE spider in one of the basins. As I was plucking up the courage to deal with it Mary arrived. Mary has a fear of birds. Turns out she's fearless when it comes to eight-legged monsters. As she picked it up it ran up her arm. "Oops" was all she said.
I've decided that we'll only open seven days a week until the end of September. Through October we'll open at weekends and then the season finale will be the whole of half term (last week of Oct). It's a momentous decision and means I now have to steer a course between ordering too much (and having it left over) and running out before we've finished.

Monet for Nothing

Ah, so Monday is soup day.
All the Pea and Cucumber has now gone.
Courgette and celery tomorrow.
Not a single scone was ordered today and because the rain has returned the organiser of the WI painting group, booked in for next Monday, has no clue how many of them will come. They don't want their oils turned into water colours.

The wee small hours

The return of the busy day. Lots of everything (especially jacket spuds) but only ONE soup. Bizarre. A lovely couple with two very young children have become regular visitors. He ordered with his baby son in arms today - a gorgeous boy with a big smile, "He wasn't so gorgeous at 4am" said Dad.
When I delivered the tray of tea for their second visit of the day I talked to mum. She told me that Dad hadn't been the one awake with the baby at 4. Hmmm. Reminded me of the day I heard my husband telling a friend that our newborn son was "sleeping through".
"No," I said, "you're sleeping through. He's up 3 times every night."
When the family left I told Dad I hoped he'd have a better night.
"I know I've been rumbled," he smiled.

Organisation

Today was the fete. Torrential rain this morning led to a lovely sunny afternoon. We were relatively quiet but have hit upon another great soup combo. When I collected a tray of tomatoes and cucumbers this morning I was given half a dozen funny shaped cucumbers that wouldn't possibly pass the supermarket test (bent in the middle, like boomerangs). We experimented. And oh my! Pea and cucumber soup (made by Nancie newly returned from hol) is SO delicious.
This morning I took a booking for July 1st 2011.
The Wendover U3A group will be dropping in for lunch.
Perhaps by then we'll be serving paninis.

Fate

Miserable weather and not really worth opening except for the few nice folks who came. At lunchtime we had a handful of art and textile "A" level students in. On a college trip to "observe" Witley Court. One had a sandwich. The other six sustained themselves with hot chocolate and tea.
The best customer was a woman on her own who bravely sat outside to eat her jacket potato. She was on the 'phone to her son as she ate, telling him where she was. He apparently told her not to buy any plants. She bought 21.
Tomorrow is the parish fete and it's the annual caravanning club gathering.
Will we be busy? Could go either way.

Worth their wait in gold

Most mornings the English Heritage gals (and one guy) pop in during their litter-pick. They use the loo and/or take away a cuppa for their day in the Witley Court "cabin", checking tickets, taking entrance fees and handing out area maps. This morning Katherine asked if we knew they had a coach party booked in.
Er.
No.
We didn't.
Thirty two people, on a trip from north Wales arrived all at once for lunch. Aaaggggghhhhhhh. There were only three of us working. Aaaaaaagggghhhhhhhhhhhh. They came at 12.15 and their tour of the court was scheduled for 1300. AAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
My normally rosey cheeks grew redder and redder.
We swam against the tide for an hour, only coming up for air when they'd gone when we stared at the debris covering almost every table.
There are so many lovely people in this world. So many who smiled, said they didn't mind waiting they could see we were busy, the food was worth waiting for and what a nice place to wait for a cup of tea anyway.
There are a few grumpsters in this world who despite standing in line to order a cappuccino (therefore knowing how busy we were), and despite being able to see the rate at which a couple of women are working (and managing to smile), grunt their disapproval when one delivers their drink and mention how long they've been waiting.
One of our Georgian-post-box-bird-boxes is on its way to a garden in Germany. The German mum and daughter who bought it were among those who waited far too long for coffee but didn't seem to mind a bit.

Blonde

The sun returned and it was lovely customer day. There was not a grumpster among them. As I delivered a tray to an elegant, elderly lady and her two daughters she said: "Being served tea like this is really posh. What we used to call 'taking-tea-with-the-vicar' posh." I told her I thought she sounded quite posh. Her daughters told me she couldn't be, as she originated from Liverpool. I asked if she'd had elocution lessons. She replied that she'd be told off for saying "that girl's got fur her". Not until she said that did I hear the Mersey.
I really hope we see them again.

Stop. Press.

S.L.O.W. at the tea rooms.
I spent the day catching up with the ironing. Only two rooms-full to go
No more news on the book. Yet.

Souped up

The weather forecast was dreadful which kept people away although those who came apparently like sludge soup. I'm looking ahead to next month and the prospect of a pumpkin soup. One friend has suggested broomstick croutons which would be fun and have the added benefit of covering up a dodgy colour should it be necessary (ie if I make it).
Exciting news is that someone has been writing a book in the tearoom. That's all I know at the moment. I shall endeavour to find out what sort of book. A great novel? An award winning kids series? A car manual?

True Romance

The jacket potato is taking over. Despite really ropey weather today we turned into spud city. The dreadful colour soup was improved with the addition of cream and there were even some nice comments about it. One table asked what herbs were in it (answer: all of them. And cumin). I took one couple's order. When the lady went off to the loo the gent stayed at the counter. I told him I'd bring his order through to the conservatory, "I'm waiting for my girlfriend," he said, "I have to wait here and walk through with her or she won't be happy." I told him he must have been trained over years. He said they'd only been together a year but had been at school together. "Friends Reunited?" I asked. "Facebook" he answered.

In The Pink

Jolly busy today, and the return of a few regulars not seen in these 'ere parts for a few weeks. The "hens" turned up about 1230 and MOST of them had jacket potatoes. They were younger than I'd expected. No fake boobs, but the protagonist had a pink sash with "Bride" written on it. All of them sported pink badges. After a very sedate day they're hitting Worcester tonight. Rrrrrr.
Big decision to make is whether to make the trip to London on Monday for the Fine Food Fair.
Are jacket spuds fine food?

What happens in the tea rooms stays in the tea rooms

Am very much looking forward to tomorrow when we shall have another first - a hen party. I'm intrigued to see the group of hens whose chosen excursion is a tour of the old stables of Witley Court followed by a sandwich in a rural tea rooms.
Will there be any fake boobs? An "L" plate on the back of the bride? A half bottle of vodka in their handbags?
Today was great. 99% lovely people and one grumpster.

Ring the Changes

I made a "taste of the garden" soup this morning. It tastes good but it's such an awful colour - dark, sludge brown. Do people care about the colour of soup? Made a big batch of chilli at the same time while Freda cracked on with scones.
It's all change again. The sixteen year olds are returning to school, and the mums are coming back to me. Am wondering about paninis. Just to spice the menu up a bit.
Freda told me today that she wanted to make a wicker wreath for the festive season so signed up at the WI college for a course called Ring for Christmas. She's just found out it's a bell-ringing course.

Enough

Last night my children asked very nicely if, on the last day of their school holiday, we could do something together "other than be at the tearooms". I pulled a few staffing strings and took my two plus my nephew (staying with us til Friday) to the morning showing of StreetDance which boasts a cast list of all those Britain's Got Talent winning dancers. For four of us to go into the film it cost.....£3.80. Less than a pound each. Bargain.
Straight from there we went to the Maize Maze which is grown every summer and closes this weekend. We crammed a day's activities into a morning and I made it to the tea rooms for the lunchtime rush. The sun's got his hat on again and I've had to up my ice cream order. I've been advised by those more experienced than I am in such matters that I should stop buying loo rolls and tuna. Mary and Ita think we have enough of both to last us until the next millennium.

I want to be alone

"At our church we're known as the ladies on sticks," they said, "and Gordon."
Gordon also used a stick and swayed back and forth in the chair to get up the momentum to propel himself upright. One of the nice ladies on sticks asked if she could smoke and was very pleasant when I said I'd prefer it if she didn't.
Not as busy a day as I'd expected though the scones were again a favourite. A sprinkling of teachers making the most of their last couple of days of freedom, one of whom said she couldn't wait to go back to school. Her own kids were driving her mad.
I called Anna to order more of her amazing fruit cake. Her 7 year old son answered the 'phone. Could I speak to Mummy? "No, sorry," he said, "Mummy's having some private time."
What does that mean, I wonder?

Record Breakers

It all began with a coach party from Loughborough. En route to Ludlow. They had coffee and were wowed by the Church. Two of them took bags of scones away with them - frozen ones, so that they could have them on the coach later.
Then all those people who didn't come yesterday came today. And so did their sisters and their cousins and their aunts. Some of them took scones away with them too. We reckon we must have got through 60-70 scones. Our jacket potato record (16) was smashed (18. And it would have been more but we ran out of spuds). My teacake ordering was woeful. They ran out half way through the day.
At the end of it all the coach party felt like a week ago.

Don't bank on it.

We were prepared on all fronts. The display fridge groaned under the weight of cakes; two soups were ready; staff were primed and pinnied (lots of us).
But it was certainly not the busiest Sunday we've ever had. Dreadful rain and bright sunshine meant people didn't know what to do with themselves. We sold more plants than lemon drizzle cake which I've taken as a personal slight.
A couple have made us their regular stopping point for their journey from North Wales to Southampton.
I am wary of tomorrow. It's Bank Holiday but the weather forecast has not yet made up its mind.

Food For Thought

A very busy day which has my knees knocking. Tomorrow and Monday could be even better (worse). We couldn't fill the cake display quickly enough.
This morning a lady who'd brought a group for lunch in July rang to ask if we're doing Christmas lunches. The plan is to close our doors at the end of October and reopen in March. Turkey does not figure this year in our plans although we do have the fantastic Goodman's Geese in the village. Perhaps we should do a Michaelmas Goose lunch at the end of September?

Dessert Storm

A much better day. The sun came out and I managed to make a lemon drizzle for the first time in months. Today we had more of those watching-what-they-eat folks.
Couple #1: 2 cappuccinos (no chocolate), 2 quiches (no potatoes) and a chocolate brownie with double cream.
Couple #2: 1 tea, 1 hot water, an egg sandwich to share and TWO pieces of lemon drizzle cake. Then they came back for a third piece of lemon drizzle to take away "for my niece" (?).
Courgette and watercress soup is a magical combo.
I'm now drafting in family to fill the Bank Holiday staff gaps.

So long, farewell.

Rain. Rain. Rain.
A few damp people braved the weather, but not many. Was it worth opening? Only because Ita cleaned the place from top to bottom.
190 people came to the Church for a funeral, retiring to a pub afterwards. The man in question was brought in to church to Jim Reeves "Distant Drums". The middle "hymn" was Edelweiss. He left the church to Fleetwood Mac's "The Chain".
Best song to play at a funeral: "If You Don't Know Me By Now"?

What a Carry On

Home again, facing a serious amount of rain and the last Bank Holiday of the tea room season. Hats off to the Bewdley Civic Society members who came for their tour of the Court despite the downpours and came to us for tea afterwards. The scone to fruit cake ratio changes in the damp. Hardly anyone wants scones with cream (a pity as we have SO much cream) but plenty want a big hearty slice of Anna's best.
Bank Holiday Monday looms and each new day brings a different member of staff who can't work. One will be in Dublin celebrating her GCSEs.Two are on holiday. One more is babysitting while parents and their friends go out to lunch. Today I asked Ita what was keeping her from joining us on Monday and was, well, surprised by the response. "I'm going to Hay on Wye," she told me, "to climb Lord Hereford's Knob".
It does exist. I've just looked it up.

Cliff

Tomorrow I am leaving the tea rooms in very capable hands and driving to Scotland with my family and the dog for 5 whole days. I am currently ironing ALL our clothes as if we were going on a three month expedition. I have spent the last two days filling the tea rooms with drinks, cakes and all manner of other supplies as if I were going on a three month expedition.

Sweet Enough

"What sugar-free drinks do you have?" asked a middle-aged man.
Apart from tea and coffee? Just diet coke I ventured. I didn't mention water. Still or sparkling.
"Right," he said, "one diet coke please. And my friend will have tea with NO SUGAR. "
I was beginning to see that they didn't want any sugar.
Then he added: "And two pieces of that cake please."
We had visitors from Trinidad and Tobago today. I know this because they wrote it in the visitors book.

Contrary

I am aghast. Not only has my skewer story been read out on Woman's Hour, told on The Now Show and repeated on Talk Sport but tonight I began to tell Richie (a mate who's come to stay) and he stopped me and said he'd heard it around a dinner table on holiday in France. I mean. WHOSE STORY IS IT ANYWAY? No mention of the tea rooms on any outlet, but I live in hope of lots of French people venturing to Worcestershire to see the home of the bamboo panty skewer.
Today was odd. A older couple came in at 4.40 and asked for quiche. We had already extended lunch once but when I tried to dissuade them (Mary had packed away twice now) they said that someone they knew had ordered late yesterday. I didn't have the energy to challenge them so I forced Mary to get everything out again. To say she was happy would be a fib.

Feet and inches

Two people had the mystery cake - both women. Neither could identify the courgette. Both said they'd loved it but there's no way they'd have chosen it if they'd known about the veg content. They wanted the recipe.
A month ago a man asked if he could bring a walking party to us at about 4pm today. He'd call ahead when they'd gathered in the morning and let us know how many there'd be. Usually, he said, it was about a dozen. He rang this morning a little breathless. "Forty have shown up" he said, "I've asked for a show of hands on how many will want to come for tea afterwards and THERE'S TOO MANY TO COUNT. Is that ok?" Yes I said, but could they try to stagger their arrival. I was reassured that would be no problem as they'd all parked in different places and some would go to see the church first.
They ALL came at 4.30.
They ALL had cake.

A good tale

Lunch started well but torrential rain put paid to the afternoon. Younger son is camping up the road with the cubs, so not the best day for him.
On the brighter side our puppy went to Little Hereford Fete and came third in the waggiest tail category. We've got a rosette and everything.

Sherlock

It's been wet but people still came, though not in the numbers we've been used to.
The jewellery display is in place and the first bracelet was sold this morning. Clare brought the quiche and cakes I'd ordered yesterday plus one more for us to try. It looked like chocolate cake in a loaf shape, with chocolate buttercream running through it. It was even better than the regular chocolate cake. We sold a piece this afternoon as "mystery cake" to a family on their way home to Cornwall from a holiday in Scotland. We asked whether they could identify the secret ingredient. "Cinnamon?" one offered. "Coconut?". "Some sort of fruit?" Eventually, and with a lot of help, they landed on it. Courgette. The best thing to do with the glut in Clare's garden.

The Glorious Twelfth

Warwick Castle then a big fat burger made it "the best birthday ever". Result. I had a moment of nostalgia in the room with all the armour in it. Not because I longed to don a breastplate but because I looked at my watch and it was the time of his birth 12 years ago. We were drenched a few times during the afternoon. I rang the tea rooms to find they'd had a dry day and a surprise coach.

And Roll

Penhow WI came at the beginning of the day, and at the end was a group called Rock Solid - not a heavy metal oufit but a dozen 40/50 somethings who came straight from work for a tour of the church and to eat scones. The two ends of the day were held together by wave after wave of families.
Tomorrow is my older son's 12th birthday and I'm off to Warwick Castle for the day. On the day he was born Ita (the only Chilean member of my staff) was having a liver transplant.

Crumbs

Five other people were working with me today. At 1130 the six of us outnumbered the customers. Then, as if someone fired a starting pistol, in they came in great big family groups - a series of quiche orders, then a series of sandwich orders, then came the jacket potato lovers. The coach party which had been expected just after lunch came at 4 and decimated the cake display.
Tomorrow morning at 11 we have 19 WI members coming. Can I get more smoked salmon in time?

Trinkets

I'm going into the jewellery business. Come Friday a display cabinet will be brought along by Fiona's husband, and Fiona will come and "dress" it. I shall probably buy all the stock myself . So that'll be honey, plants, apple juice, bird-boxes-in-the-shape-of-red-pillar-boxes and jewellery on sale in our little emporium.
Special sandwich: smoked salmon and cream cheese - unbelievably popular.

Get ahead

A man had booked a table for 4 today. I wrote it down but didn't check the diary so was relieved when there was a great table free for him and his three friends. One of whom was a lactose intolerant vegetarian. He wanted quiche. Did it have milk in it? Probably I said. I wouldn't risk it. "It doesn't usually have milk in quiche? Are you sure?" he said. I wasn't. But Naomi has just gone on holiday for a week so I couldn't even check. He had a jacket potato with beans. One of his friends had the quiche.
Freda asked me whether we were doing well enough to invest in a new mop head.
Nancie had asked the very same thing yesterday.
I must act.

Come again another day

We are a fine people. From a vantage point behind the counter I looked outside today at families taking tea in the garden. In the pouring rain. One lady held her tea cup in one hand and an umbrella in the other. Would that happen anywhere else in the world? Only when it turned torrential did they pick up their tea cups and run inside.
A bumper day for cakes sold and friends dropping in.

Fayre Well

There was a funeral today in the church, after which 50 people came to us for lunch. The family had requested many things we don't usually do including roast beef, prawn and smoked salmon sandwiches. I was, naturally, anxious. The family said we'd done them very well, which is what I was hoping for. We had compliments from guests too. One lady was effusive: "We've been to a lot of funerals recently," she said, "but this has been the best."
I wasn't quite sure how to respond.

Cast Off

A Knit 'n' Natter group came today for tea and cake. Mainly millionaire's shortbread. I told them they should be done under the trades description act. Not one of them had brought their knitting. I told them they reminded me of my book group.
This morning a very English older man and his wife came for coffee and cake. He was, rather incongrously, wearing a dark grey hooded sweatshirt emblazoned with SFPD.
"Are you in the San Francisco Police Department?" I asked. Really I was joking. I assumed he'd bought it on holiday. He looked shocked. He asked me how I knew that's what it stood for?
His wife said their son had lived in the States for years but had recently become a citizen and joined the San Francisco police: "It's his mid-life crisis, " she said rolling her eyes. "And this is mine" I said, gesturing around the tea room.

No ifs.

The Verminator arrived this morning to put an end (I hope) to the wasp nest. It's underground so no telling how big it is, but the horrible things go in and out at a rate of knots so I reckon it must have been there a while.
Twelve members of Little Hereford WI came today. They sat on one big table in the conservatory and gales of laughter swept into the kitchen. Had it not been for them we'd have had a quiet-ish day. Late afternoon brought folks out for cake in the garden although I had to ask two to extinguish ciggies. I hate doing it. I hate picking up their butts even more.

Clever as Clever.

Taking little kids out for lunch can be tricky. There's usually one who's a bit, well, fussy. But that's ok. I hated bananas as a child and I still don't eat cheese unless it's cooked so I'm on their side. Mostly.
One mum sidled up to the counter and whispered. Could we do a jam sandwich? No butter? White bread? "No problem, " I beamed,"For the little girl?"
"He's a boy" she said.
A 6 year old boy with VERY long hair.
When everyone else was ordering he (not having heard the jam sandwich thing) asked for beans on toast. With no butter.
He ate only the pieces of the toast which had been soaked by the beans.
His mum and granny came back to order cake, and talked about his eating habits. He loves bananas and, bizarrely, chilli. The latter since his brother put a little on his plate recently. Today Granny offered him a little of her salad as he ate. This 6 year old's answer?
"I'm not ready for lettuce yet."

Scream

Wasps are becoming a nuisance. They're driving some customers mad and indoors. I have alerted the proper authorities (Geoff) who says he'll sort them.
Nancie was driven mad, not by wasps, but by a couple who just couldn't make up their mind what to have from our (lovely but) limited menu. Eventually plumping for two soups ("but I won't have a roll", "oh go on, then I can eat yours as well") he then returned for ice cream. There are 5 flavours of ice cream from which to choose. You can imagine how long that took.

Bring It On

August arrived. And we were very busy.
I opened early, prompted by a call from a historic car club who wanted coffee at 1030. As they (15 of them) sat down in the garden a large group of older lycra-clad male cyclists arrived. Tea and cake for all of them. And could I get the drive straightened out cos the bumps hurt their bums? They'd come more often if the pot-holes weren't there.
Some very old friends I'd not seen for 20 years came for lunch and really got into planning what I should do with the place. They were proposing jazz quartets and twinkly lights and evening soirées. And weddings.
On Friday when I went from one table (a man planning the wake this Friday for his mother - 50 people) to a second (a young couple asking if they could hold their wedding reception here in September 2011) to a call from yet another group wanting to book for last night, the 'phone rang again. Nancie said not to answer it: "It'll be Obama," she said, "He'll want to book the tea rooms for the next G8 summit."

Saturday. Say No to C E L L O

The 41 came, ate, drank and praised us. The 18 members of the Queen's Park Sinfonia had their tea. Mid way through a man approached, said he was a cellist and asked me if he could warm up in the tea rooms until 8.30. I told him we'd be gone by 8 (with any luck) and he went away. He did, however, borrow one of our chairs which he used during the concert.
Apparently this chap is Ulrich Heinen, a world-renowned cellist.
The chair was outside the gate this morning, and I set it back under one of the tables in the conservatory.
It should have a plaque on it.

Into the Unknown

So it's now 41 for concert suppers tomorrow evening and I haven't got a clue where'll I'll put everyone. Had this lovely idea of having two slightly staggered sittings as about half are coming at 5.30 and half at 6pm - the first would sit in the main room, the 2nd lot in the conservatory. Then. THEN I remembered. Somewhere we have to feed the 30 performers sandwiches and cakes. I've been humming "I'm just a girl who can't say no" under my breath all day. Becky suggests putting one table in the corridor leading to the loos. And another in the loos themselves. I'm thinking of putting a "gone away" sign on the gate.
Still. Here's the finalised menu:
Watercress and Celery Soup OR Smoked Mackerel Paté
Leek, Mushroom and Gruyere Quiche OR Honeyed Chicken Kebabs (got to use those skewers somehow)
Warm brownie served with cream OR Eton Less-Messy (a whole homemade meringue with local strawberries and raspberries. And cream)
Deep breath.

Well Bread

The Summer holidays are definitely upon us. Today was busy again for lunch and yet again the jacket spuds were being ordered faster than we could replace them in the oven. Tomorrow I shall start with more. Cunning. A very pleasant teenager with a Scottish accent came to the counter to rave about the millionaire's shortbread.
I managed to flood the conservatory with some over-zealous watering and we ran out of white bread - the second day in a row that white bread has been as popular as granary (usually 80% of our customers are granarified).
Am still worrying about Saturday's 37 suppers. Menu yet to be finalised but will involve us making a vat of mackerel paté as a starter. Went to my book group this evening in the pub - 5 mins of book talk, 2 hours of gossip, stories and menu planning.

You gotta have faith

It felt like a coach party. Freda kept asking if it WAS a coach party. We kept throwing more and more jacket potatoes into the oven. It wasn't a coach, just LOTS of large family groups making the most of the intermittent sunshine.
My friend Faith dropped in today en route from her London home to Liverpool. I'll blame her for starting the cappuccino-rush.
I'm now starting to worry about Saturday evening when we have 37 booked in for a three-course concert supper. Will we manage?

The Last Straw

The spate of festivals is playing havoc with my rotas. The younger ones have lists of them to go to through the Summer. And today Caz, the 21-year-old Swahili student, hobbled in to tell me that she's broken her foot falling off a hay bale and won't be able to work.
Ah, to be young again.

Bargain

By 1030 this morning I'd spent £1,200 (plus VAT) on a brand new dishwasher.
It took two men an hour to fit her, and they gave me a FREE bottle of rinse aid.

As Good As A Rest

No sugar/salt incidents today. Jo helped again this morning and is almost ready to trade her high powered London job for taking trays of tea and cake to people. She says the customers are so often smiling and make such lovely noises of approval as we deliver their cakes and drinks.
And it's such a great place to be.
And she likes the aprons.
Am thinking of whether I could offer weekends in the country to stressed, city ladies where they'd pay me to come and work in a rural tea rooms and be smiled at.
They could vacuum and clean the loos - stuff they never get to do at home.
It might just work.

Saltgate

So we threw away all the sugar-bowls-mistakenly-filled-with-salt. Or so we thought. This afternoon a lady who'd ordered tea brought the sugar bowl back to us saying her tea tasted of salt. We made her a new pot of tea, took a fresh bowl of sugar out to her (having tasted it) and were mortified when that too turned out to be full of salt. Her companion
laughed and laughed. She didn't. At first. Refunded money and a chocolate bar helped her to see the funny side.
The morning started with a large wedding in the church. A gospel choir from Birmingham all wanted takeaway mochas and hot chocolate; a group of 29 wanted....everything. We were quite tight on staff but my friend Jo put a pinny on and mucked in. Gina fell ill and had to be driven home by Eileen. Jo became crucial. A local couple who'd ordered one bowl of soup ended up with a jacket potato AND soup. Quite a day.
Eileen is back. She tests for antibiotics and tb, cos milk can't have either in it.
She should test our sugar bowls.

Skewered

My Sainsbury's delivery story has been on Radio 4 AGAIN. (The Now Show. Tonight. About 5 to 7) And this time the story apparently happened to someone Punt and Dennis actually know, which means I must know them (I don't. Yet). I wonder if they'll show up at the tea rooms to taste our quiche and seal our new-found friendship.
Occasionally we have mishaps. Sue's thrown a tray of the scones she's just made onto the floor. We've all broken bits and pieces of china, dropped cake, slopped milk. Accidental stuff. But I'm beginning to think there's a Just William among us who's deliberately making mischief. Someone (Nancie) turned off the drinks fridge "by accident". Someone (Nancie) doubled up a jacket potato order and then had the leftover one for her lunch. But I have now caught her red-handed. She was actually putting salt in the sugar bowls.
Juvenile behaviour.

Stain

Eileen's back tomorrow. She's been at the Royal Welsh Show for the last few days where her job was testing cows milk. The show-cows still have to be milked, and their milk has to be tested apparently. Tested for what? I shall ask her. And I'll ask her how she tests it. And then I'll make her a latte.
We had a good day today with a surprising amount of sunshine. Ita said I hid from the public, which is probably right. I didn't feel 100% so did washing up, went out to collect produce, ordered supplies, that sort of thing. Ita called me when someone ordered a macchiato - the first time this has ever happened in our tea rooms. Macchiato means stained or marked. It's an espresso (easy enough) with a fine layer of foam on the top, just enough to stain the coffee with the milk.
Not many people's cup of tea.

Sweet Little Lies

Two days before the end of term in our neck o'the woods and lots of teachers in today. One lot were from a local primary, saying goodbye to a member of staff and laughing a lot. We'd forgotten how much noise people can make when they sit inside rather than out. The other group were 3 retired teachers - one from Notts, one from Coventry and one from Worcester who like to meet up (with their wives) occasionally. They arrived 10 minutes before closing.
This morning two mates who met the year Pat Cash won Wimbledon came. Steve from Brisbane was visiting Neil and his family in Droitwich. They'd started chatting in the Wimbledon queue 23 years ago. Steve asked me what the toffee cake was like. Very sweet, I said. He had it with peppermint tea.
A man who came alone asked me if I had made the raspberry and coconut slice. When I said I hadn't he said I should have lied.

Or there'll be no pudding.

A older couple came in today at 11.30 and asked Jennifer if they could have an early lunch. They chose the ham salad with new potatoes, the most expensive and substantial thing on the menu. They then asked for extra ham. Jennifer told them there was quite a lot of hand-sliced ham anyway but they could not be put off. They also wanted extra potatoes. Jennifer asked if they'd not had any breakfast. Then they wanted a bread roll each (actually a mini-baby-cottage, but they weren't to know). Jennifer said they'd better eat it all or they'd answer to her.
They did.
Eat it all that is.

Iron won't

I'm often asked how it's all going. Is it doing well? Better than you expected?
I don't really know, is the honest answer. Pretty well I think but the weather has been phenomenal and I can't count on it all Summer.
On the personal front I regularly forget to feed my children, my eyesight is deteriorating and piles of domestic washing are slowly taking over the house. I'm about to spend £1,200 on a brand new dishwasher and a strange-looking Inland Revenue form has arrived with a deadline of next week.
But I'm surrounded by cake and crisps all day. What's not to love?

Surprise

Not the sunniest of days but a very busy lunchtime nonetheless. The man who dyes his hair told Nancie how much he loved the spinach and Herefordshire goats' cheese quiche.
We were just catching up after the rush when the Court rang to say that a coach of 45 unexpected visitors had arrived and were heading our way.
I've noticed that coach parties are often full of acquaintances, not friends. Noone wants to buy anyone else a cup of tea, clearly worried the favour will never be reciprocated. So it's tray after tray of "one tea, one scone". And if it's ever: "two teas, two scones" ladies (always ladies) peer into their purses and look uncomfortable. It can be a stressful few seconds before it's decided they'll split the bill and I take their money separately.

Nothing like a Dame

Slack. On Friday I didn't write an entry because after work I went to a J-Me party where a lady sold me some cooking stuff that Jamie Oliver likes. So it must be good.
Yesterday a family brought their huge white alsatian to sit in the garden while they had tea. They bought the dog his own piece of Victoria Sponge.
Years ago I went to interview Barbara Cartland in her home and afterwards we had afternoon tea at an enormous dining room table. The first thing she did was to cut two slabs of cake and set them on the floor for her dogs. And what she said when the mic was turned off was far more entertaining than what was in the interview.

The Hills are Alive

16 for lunch and a tour today. They were all carers from Kidderminster on their monthly day out together. One lady said she'd had a lovely time but wished we did chips.
In the lulls between customers I chatted with Ita and Mary. Sometimes I ask questions and I think I already know the answer. Mary told me she has a 40-something nephew in Switzerland. "What does he do there?" I asked, presuming banking, or chocolate making, or putting cuckoos into clocks.
"He's a baroque trumpeter" she said.
Ah yes, of course.

Cleaned out

The official quote for bringing the dishwasher back to life arrived today - £1,187.16 + vat.
That's a lot of tea.
Am thinking of putting a collection plate for a new one next to the tips bowl.

Pressing

People still come in the rain. That's a relief cos the forecast is pretty awful for the next few days. Becky's mum texted with exciting news: the blog entry about my Sainsbury's delivery was only read out on Woman's Hour.
I have a pathetic four bottles of pressé left as the ordered boxes haven't shown up. I rang them this morning and they told me they'd left the store but none of the couriers had them. They're sending more.

No Warren tea..

*Sigh* The engineer says the dishwasher isn't worth repairing: "at least £500 just for the parts". His advice cost me £93.
On the positive side two of the red postbox bird boxes were sold today.

Sundye

The culprit has been identified. And it is the dishwasher. We turned it on first thing to test it, and within minutes the whole system had tripped. Eileen and Dad washed up on a very busy Sunday with just the one machine. Eileen told us about a regular customer sitting in the garden who now dyes his hair: "When he had grey hair a stranger helped him cross the road" she said, "and he didn't like it." "Why?" said Nancie, "did he want to stay on the same side?".

Five go to Worcestershire

The Vegan 5 were very punctual. The lunch was a surprise for one man's 70th birthday. His wife had called weeks ago from their home in Devon. Her first question was whether we allowed dogs, and the second if we could provide a fully vegan meal for them and some friends from Stoke. It was actually quite simple. All you do is call Naomi and ask her to make a tart with soya margarine, listen to her gasp, then say yes, and then wait for her to deliver it. Then you get Sue to make asparagus soup (yes, it's still going at one farm. Just) and give them strawberries and raspberries for pud. They brought their own cake, soya cream and soya milk for tea. Easy.

Menagerie

Two large groups today: a party of 38 ladies from a Kidderminster church who, as they left, asked Nancie if they could hold their Christmas party with us (only if they have it before November or after March - we're closed over the Winter) and 46 mums and kids from the local prep school for a child's leaving party. The organiser left a lovely message on the answerphone this evening saying they'd all had a great time and would return.
The cat has also come back and keeps hanging around the conservatory. I would have thought spending the night locked in would be reason enough to avoid the place. The other regular visitor is a robin who took a piece of carrot cake offered to it by a customer last week and occasionally dives into the conservatory to sit in the fig tree.
The Vegan 5 are coming tomorrow.
And a group of people from a hardy plants society.

Sometimes the customer is just plain wrong.

I broke a cup this morning and was slightly off-the-pace all day, which was unfortunate given that we were REALLY busy. Busy can be fun, and when an old friend who used to make cappuccinos for a living happened to drop in at the point that 3 cappuccinos had been ordered I welcomed his frothing expertise with open arms. Then came the complainer. She said people who'd ordered AFTER her had their food BEFORE her. Becky explained that those who order tea/cakes/scones etc will have their trays before those who are waiting for lunches but she insisted she was right. I went out to see her: "I understand you're not happy?" I began. "I didn't say I wasn't happy," she said, "but I'm annoyed that people who came after us..." etc etc. I apologised. She said she didn't want an apology. Then she pointed to the children. "They're hungry," she said, "and I wish you would just admit you've lost our order." We hadn't. "I don't run my business like that," she continued, "In my business it's first come first served" As it is here, of course, but I shouldn't have bothered trying to explain, she'd made up her mind. "I'm a steward up in the church" she went on,"and I do a lot of work for Witley Court, but I won't bother coming here in the future." So some good came out of it then.
After she'd had her lunch she came in for strawberries and chocolate cake. She was like a different person. The jacket potato must have been good.

Forward planning

Caroline (Caz) did her first shift to learn the ropes and show us what she can do. She's 21 and doing African studies which means she's learning Swahili. Could be useful when we open our tea rooms in Tanzania*.
Watercress and celery soup - it's the way forward. Nancie from made it for the first time today. It's yet another green soup to add to asparagus and pea&mint but it really works as a combo. Tomorrow's group of 20 for lunch have taken it to the wire. The promised pre-orders aren't coming til tomorrow morning so I've had to take a guess at the bread order. Again.
*Plan # 2076

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.

Come on, Eileen

Eileen is fab. She looks after other people's dogs, feeds people's chickens and comes in whenever I need her to wash up, which at the moment is every day. When she was clearing a table today she dropped a plate. She said she'd broken a cup at the weekend so there'd be a third somewhere along the line. I told her to go home and break one of her own. On Friday she came in at 2: "I couldn't make it earlier," she said, "because I went to have my hair cut on the bus."

Diet

We've had friends staying with us this weekend. Clare offered to help me open up this morning and I bit off her hand. She set out the cakes in the display fridge, made the outside tables presentable, folded a mountain of napkins and was still there when the coach party from Shropshire descended at noon. The guy who'd organised it said he'd noticed a lot of people had had cake: "which is surprising given how many of us are diabetics." Among the last customers of the day were two men for tea and cake ahead of a recital in the church. One asked if there was anything dairy in the fruit cake. I told him there'd be butter in it. He asked about milk. I couldn't be sure, I said. I don't know Anna's (secret) recipe but it could easily have milk in it. "I'm lactose intolerant," he said, "but I'll have it anyway." Two different people asked me for soya milk (we don't have it). Three people ordered gluten free cake. Two people asked if the soup is gluten-free. It is. And four people ordered half-shot lattes. Now, I love lattes. But half a shot?

Power Trip

Tried out two new cakes today: St Clements, with sunken chocolate chunks, and Naomi's banana, maple and pecan. I wish no-one had ordered the latter because I could have eaten ALL of it. For the second day in a row the power tripped. It looks like it might be the number 2 dishwasher that's causing the problem. Could be expensive.
We've completely sold out of the home-made ice lollies.

The Customer Is Always Right

Today was naughty customers day. I delivered a tray to four women, two of whom were eating their own sandwiches out of lunchboxes. I advised them, politely, that they couldn't eat their own lunch here. One apologised and put hers away. The other said: "well they were eating sandwiches in the church. I don't think they should be allowed to do that." What that had to do with anything I have no idea. When I next came outside woman number one was guiltily pushing something in her mouth. Then there were the couple who asked Sara if they could smoke outside. We said: "No, sorry". They did it anyway. Later a lady at another table was puffing away when I brought her tea. I asked her not to smoke, and she put out her cigarette between her forefinger and thumb. Nice. But at least it stayed out.
But what really got my goat (not a phrase I use very often) was when "they-were-eating-sandwiches-in-the-church" woman, strolled into the kitchen when we were all at our busiest (which was most of today) and said: "I'm just having a look around - it is for sale isn't it?"

Strawberry Split

We are now selling bird boxes. They're in the form of Post Boxes, proper red and fun. They're made by a charity in Kidderminster. I have two on the counter and have sold them both. To members of staff.
"Can I be awkward?" from a man with a smile, "May we have one bowl of strawberries, and one bowl of raspberries mixed together, and split between two bowls? And then can you scoop out a little tub of vanilla ice cream, divide it in two and serve it on top of the fruit, please?" It wasn't awkward at all. On a busy day it might have been.

Crock

A woman asked today if the elderflower pressé was carbonated. She had apple juice instead because her doctor had advised her that fizzy drinks may damage her bladder lining. Her husband had a diet coke. I raised an eyebrow. "My bladder's fine" he said.
The local raspberries and strawberries served with local cream (am I getting obsessed?) are going well, so I'm now detouring to a second farm every other morning. It's a pity we can't make soup out of fruit.
"This must be a little gold mine," a man said today. It wasn't a question. So I didn't answer it.

Staggered

Witley Court had a coach party booked in for a tour today. A week ago I rang the organiser who assured me that the 42 were not going round as a group but would be left to their own devices from 11am when they arrived. They would, therefore, "dribble in" at different times for refreshment. This staggering of lunches works well. If they don't all come in at once. Which they all did.
So our day looked like this:
10-12.45 Jennifer, Gina, Freda, Nancie, Eileen and I stand around chatting, looking at the clock, drinking coffee.
12.45- 1.45 AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH
One of the coach party asked if a pot of tea for one held enough tea for 2 people. She then asked if our tap water was drinkable.
Not sure I'll be able to retire just yet.

Galore

I opened early this morning because of (yet) another dental appointment for my son. I was greeted with a surprise. A young cat had been locked in the tea rooms overnight. Back arched and hair standing on end she guiltily rushed past me when I unlocked the door. I spent a few minutes searching for "evidence" of her evening. I found nothing. She could eat nothing - all the food was hiding in cupboards and fridges. She could drink nothing. Unless she could open the display and unscrew a bottle of local apple juice, in which case she'd be welcome to it and I'd win Britain's Got Talent 2011. But she had done damage by somehow managing to turn off the "prep" fridge. A whole ham, now at room temperature (for goodness knows how long) was binned. Thanks, Garfield.

It's a Sin

Such a shame. I had such high hopes. Nancie came in this morning full of smiles. Last night while flicking through the channels she'd chanced upon the Glastonbury coverage of The Pet Shop Boys. It had inspired her to listen to her PSB music on the way to work. Now. I dislike The Pet Shop Boys with such intensity that when I also chanced upon them last night (Neil Tennant singing with his head in a plastic box - nufsed) it caused me to spew vitriol at the tv. The very idea that Nancie can be SO WRONG about something has worried me. How can I trust her with the jacket potatoes?
One of the first customers through the door was a woman who said: " I suppose there'll be lots of idiots watching the football this afternoon." That included me. Such a shame. I had such high hopes.

Locally groan

It was 10 people in the end. They sat outside in the evening heat and most of them had 3 courses - local asparagus (Little Witley is still producing), local strawberries - "and the salmon?" asked the lady on Table 3, "is that from a local river?" Erm, no. Local supermarket. They booked again for the next concert supper at the end of July.

Standing

My feet hurt. Today the third 16 year old came for a trial run, and I'm not sure he enjoyed himself quite so much as the girls did. He was thrown into the deep end, with Sara and I calling out encouraging words as he swam through tray delivery, washing up, putting away, clearing tables, wiping tables et al to get to the other side. Poor boy. Still I expect he learnt something - that he did not want to wind up working in a tea room so he'd better do well in his A levels.
An old school friend turned up. She said she'd heard very good things about us. A couple from Queensland wrote in the visitors' book: "a home from home, magnificent service". Now off to soak my feet and prepare for Concert Suppers tomorrow evening (3 courses for 8 people ahead of a concert in the Church). For which I'm missing the Dr Who finale. Grrrr.

"Tea" in Team

Today I met John. He's 85 and he had a latte. On his own. A few weeks ago he went to Majorca. Next week he's off to Salzburg and says he books up holidays well in advance to try to avoid the single person supplement. I like John. Another youngster came to learn the ropes today and was very impressive. She doesn't drink any hot drinks. Ever. Not even hot chocolate. Says she knows she should cos it's "grown up" to drink tea and coffee, but she just can't. How strange to wind up working in a tea rooms, serving tea, in a nation of tea drinkers to tea lovers when you can't stand the stuff. Oh, and she plays serious rugby, so I'm not about to tell her it's weird. And she'll be good in a Bank Holiday scrum.

Sweet sixteen

A new 16 year old recruit came to see how we do things today. Becky and I showed her the ropes and during a busy lunchtime she mucked in and impressed us. Becky usually takes a piece of fruit cake home with her but today she chose carrot cake. I told her if England were to win she'd have to eat carrot cake every time they play.
At 3pm there were four ladies having tea in the garden. And noone else came for the rest of the day. That's the power of the World Cup. Freda and I listened to the radio commentary. Freda asked me if any changes had been made to the side and high-fived a large serving spoon I was handing her when the goal was scored. We had a scone and a cup of tea to celebrate the win, cleared up, swept and mopped and were out of there in record time.
Must remember to keep a slice of carrot cake for Becky and the last 16.

Come on

I finally got around to buying in some local strawberries to serve today. Not the hardest of tasks but new things are often a little daunting. It's very hard to know what to expect from tomorrow's customers - will they all drift away at 2.30 to be home for the match? Or will they stay cocooned from the football and eat strawberries and scones all afternoon? I wish I could watch it myself. It'll be gutting if I stay open just for two walkers and a dog. I'll feel the same a week on Sunday when Andy Murray's in the Wimbledon final.

Lady Muck

Today I ordered lots of things - cake, quiche, bread, teacakes, apple juice - and then went to have the tension in my shoulders partially massaged away. And I think it did make a difference. Then I walked the puppy up to the tea rooms where Nancie brought me tea and a sandwich in the garden. It was bliss - a gorgeous sunny day, and so lovely to be on the other side. I tried to convince myself that it was necessary to see it through different eyes. Tosh. Can I afford it? Who knows, but it was marvellously decadent. I might do it every week.

A private function

Worcestershire was bathed in sunshine all day. Which meant we were very busy indeed. It's Fathers Day, so naturally enough I had my own Dad washing up for me. He gets a latte and a salad sandwich for his trouble. And this morning he had a card as well. Lucky man.
There are many ways people use to ask for the lavatory. Many smile and ask: "do you have a ladies/gents, please?" or "Can I just use your loo?". Nancie takes off her pinny and says she's "off to check the fax paper". This afternoon an older customer from the West Midlands stopped me in my tracks when she said: "Can I go on your toilet?".

Late

During the week I had a call from a Black Country man asking if he could bring 6 people for coffee at 1015 today, ahead of their guided tour of the Court. I dutifully wrote in the diary that I should open up early so that the coffee was ready. And forgot about it. I remembered as I lay listening to football fans bemoaning the dreadful match last night. I made it, but it was tight.
The other end of the day saw 4 lots of people come in 15 minutes before closing. 14 of them. I still smiled, but when one is desperate to get back to watch Dr Who it's slightly forced.

Diamond - Friday

This morning was mainly a filter coffee and scones one, but my favourite customers came in and ordered two lattes and scones. She sat holding a stick while he stood at the counter and paid. She hoped they had enough English money, she said, because they'd been away in Switzerland for 5 weeks. She's 77, he 82 and he'd driven to Switzerland and back to celebrate 60 years since they became engaged. It's their diamond anniversary next year. She told me a few of the things they'd done over the last few weeks and said they were busy "SKI -ing" ( Spending the Kids Inheritance). "We might as well," he added, "because if we leave anything they'll only buy a car with it". She giggled and said, "We're SKI-ing. And I can't even walk".

A Different Approach

This morning as I made a new batch of chilli the 'phone rang. It was the nice girl from the till roll company with her monthly call. I've never ordered anything from her as I inherited a large supply, and I felt a bit guilty about it, but today she mentioned ink for the till so I asked her how much is it? She said she'd find out and get back to me...
Five minutes later (I'm still making the chilli) a different woman rang. This one not quite so pleasant as it turned out, or else in a very bad mood. I had to buy 6 of the ink things at a time, and it was 19 pounds something. I asked if there was a delivery charge. Yes, she said, £2. I said "oh gawd". She said they had to charge delivery. I said, "how much was it again? 19 pounds what?" She said: "Don't be so rude. Get them from somewhere else." AND SHE PUT THE PHONE DOWN. My gast was flabbered. What on earth had I said to upset her so much?
The day improved. We hosted a funeral tea for the friends and family of a local lady in her 90s. We were very busy at lunch when quiche was the top order. And a lady from Wolverhampton said that we'd been recommended by 3 different people and that she would continue to spread the word. This is the last week for local asparagus which means a] more thought will be needed for soup ingredients and b] my 5 minute journey to work will no longer have to include the detour via the farm in the village.

YOP

Today I feel as if my child is growing up and doesn't need me as much anymore. Freda opened up. Mary helped her. Becky came in at 12. I sauntered in at 1, after yet another visit to the dentist with my older son, to find that they were steadily busy but coping without a hint of a problem. Mary was even making cappuccinos (the idea of which had kept her awake last night). I feel guilty. I have had more time away from the place this week than in the past 10 weeks put together.
This afternoon a man asked me if I'd consider giving his 16 year old son a part-time job. Yesterday I had a letter from the 16 year old daughter of a friend asking the same question. Wish I could refer them to the HR department.

Penned

Steadily busy today, ably handled by Sara and Nancie who have far too good a time together judging by the raucous cackling as I walked in. This afternoon three Thai people came. They ordered a complete mixture of stuff - asparagus soup, cappuccino, scone, carrot cake and tea. When we delivered it to their table outside they placed everything in front of them and produced two cameras. We photographed them smiling with their food. Twenty minutes later one of the ladies came in to request the soup recipe, and to ask searching questions about the scones which, she commented, were "better than Harrods". We manhandled her to the Visitors Book and stood over her while she put her comment in writing. We weren't going to let that pass.

Sweet nothings

Overheard at the tea rooms today:
"Darling, if anything happens to either one of us, I'm moving to the South of France".

Kebab anyone?

I haven't been at the tea rooms today. After two nights in a pod with my family and the puppy I had a day off, went out for a pub roast lunch, and told my husband the following story:
On Thursday evening, I had a domestic Sainsburys delivery. If something you've ordered isn't in stock the person collecting your items makes a best guess at a replacement which you can then accept or reject. I had ordered (forgive me, but it's crucial that I tell it how it is) a pack of panty liners. Which they didn't have. And so the delivery note read:
YOU ORDERED: Always liners normal x 60
WE DELIVERED: Sainsburys bamboo skewers 100 pack.
I have been searching my brain for an explanation.

Sleep

A good day when the sun came back and the outside worked harder than the inside. I shall keep this brief as I'm off to spend the night in a "pod" on a camp site in Herefordshire. Five of us (including the puppy) in a wooden structure the size of a tent. Tomorrow should be interesting.

Three Cheers

We have a lot of very young visitors who use high chairs. And, I would say, 3 sorts of mums who put them in the high chairs. Now, I'm on the other side for the first time and I've no idea which category of mum I was when my kids were very little so this is an observation rather than a pointing finger. Category One mums (common) are paying for a lunch away from their home where they have to do all the clearing up, so part of what they're paying for is to be able to walk away from the mess: grated cheese on the floor, beans on the chairs, baby wipes on the plates, and not to worry about it. Category two (rare) can be best explained through an example from yesterday. She fed her daughter a tub of rice salad she'd brought from home having ordered lunch for herself from us. The little girl threw much of the rice on the floor. Mum apologised and asked for a dustpan. Which I didn't give to her. It was lovely to be asked. Category three (endangered species) came in this morning with husband and 17 month old son, James. On holiday from somewhere in the south east judging by the accent. Jimmy ate his jacket potato with his fingers and dropped cheese and bread onto the carpet. Mum told me I wouldn't even know they'd been there. Next time I looked dad was on his knees under the table picking up every crumb. They left the table with their plates stacked and even put the high chair back.
This afternoon my own son sliced off the top of his finger in a DT lesson. No idea who cleared up the blood.

In clover

Some go the way of the charm offensive. Today I just did offensive. A group of pleasant photography students, mixed in age and gender, asked if they could bring their Edwardian lady model into the garden to be photographed. They broke for coffee and later for lunch. One man asked for "ham and cheese and mayonnaise on white, no butter." I told him I'd have to charge extra for the extra filling. He countered by asking for a discount for NOT having butter. I told him he had no chance as he was having mayo instead, and then added "you sod". I don't know why. He laughed, I reddened. His friend's eyes widened: "Did you mean to say that out loud?". And then ordered the same, on granary. He came back in before leaving to say he'd "enjoyed the banter".
One person ordered my chilli filling. Said it was hot but just how she likes it.
Later in the afternoon a man came in with a 4-leaf clover. He said for every one there are 14,000 3-leafers, but if you found one you could usually find more in the same place. Sure enough he brought in more from the top of the garden. When I left this evening Mike was mowing the lawn.

Power

The day started badly. I did an online cash and carry shop which somehow got lost in the web ether. My first job at the tearooms was to change a lightbulb. As I manhandled one which clearly didn't fit into the bayonet-gap I heard the drinks fridge and display fridge grind to a halt. The emergency exit lights came on. A bad sign (literally?). I had knocked out all the power. I checked the trips. All fine. For half an hour I mentally went through the awfulness of closing for the day before I'd even opened, and decided that at least it wasn't a day when we had a coach booked in. I called a neighbour. They had power. I called the supplier. It was still coming into the building. Then I called Mike the electrician who told me there was a bigger, fatter, more important trip-switch in an entirely different place. The fridges whirred back into action. Then the cash and carry rang to say they'd found my order. Joy.
So I made the chilli and added it to the chalkboard with a sense of fear and pride. I was afraid it was a little fiery but Jennifer and Freda tasted it and gave it the thumbs up so I didn't change it. I shall have to wait at least another day to find out what anyone else thinks as not a single person sheltering from the heavy rain chose it. I wasn't there for much of the day. I spent lunchtime feeding my tomato plants.

The iron is hot

The quietest day for weeks. It was wet, and no longer half term. Jennifer came in jaded "have you ever had one of those mornings when you just can't wake up?" so it was a good job we weren't rushed off our feet. I have plucked up the courage to mention homemade (or ho-made as I once saw on a sign - an entirely different concept) chilli as a jacket potato filling and it was greeted with enthusiasm. Happily, as I'd already bought the ingredients. We shall start tomorrow.

Lolly

The forecast had been dreadful. Thunder showers, they said, but it was bright and sunny and we put some extra tables outside. All the early birds commented that the forecasters had got it wrong again and it may make people stay at home. We had a quiet-ish lunch for a Sunday and were never rushed, so two young members of staff not turning up was a blessing. Then the rain came. Thunder, lightning, torrents of water. We rushed to bring the tables back in. People in the conservatory had to shout to be heard, such was the level of noise on the roof. We were back in teacake and hot chocolate zone again. Two men told me they wish they'd come in the morning, but they'd been watching Glee and couldn't tear themselves away.
This weekend I have started a trial of ice-lollies called "Just Scrummy". They're made with fruit juice by a woman in Worcester and they're going down quite well, although I do wonder if I've jinxed the weather just by having them in the freezer.

Sunshine and drizzle - Saturday

Another sunny one. The first sandwich order (2 ham on granary) went into the kitchen at 1015. A couple from Lancs were lost and stressed on their way home from a wedding in Oxfordshire, and in need of food and tea. I hadn't even switched the lights on in the loos.
The last 3 groups of people were still sitting in the garden at half past 5. I made a big lemon drizzle traybake yesterday morning. There are 3 pieces left. Already too late to make another today after a lovely lie in.

Bring Me Sunshine - Friday

Friday was noteworthy because:
Someone wrote in the visitors' book: "Egg sandwiches - brill".
No-one seemed in a hurry to leave.
The sun shone all day.
More than usual people threw caution to the wind and ordered white bread sandwiches.
We had a healthy turn out of teenagers who were all taking a break from revision.
My mother-in-law had to pick up more ice cream for me, despite a delivery yesterday.
Naomi brought a new batch of quiches which are meant to last all weekend, but half of them have gone already.
Ann Widdecombe didn't come, but a Woman's Hour presenter did.
I have to go back to the farm shop first thing Saturday because we've run out of salad.

Celebri-tea

I woke up from a nightmare about being late and short staffed. The poorly named coach "party" were pretty grumpy as roadworks had made them late and shortened their visit and the coach driver was worried he'd scratched his vehicle on the way down our very bumpy drive. We served 36 filter coffees. Most of the women seemed to be wearing beige slacks.
The rest of the day was fantastically busy but we sailed through it. Ita came and did her first shift under the new regime and was fab. Freda was the cavalry as we were in danger of losing our grip at lunchtime. Eileen cancelled whatever she'd been doing and came to wash up. Becky came in with her two incredibly helpful sons. We were super busy and it was a great day. The sun shone on everyone in the garden including Ann Widdecombe. I've no idea what she had to eat or drink as I didn't take her order, didn't serve her and didn't clear her table. I just gawped at her as I took out teas, quiche and cake to another table. We also sold TWO paintings: one of Witley flowers, and one of the Church and Court.

Help

A gorgeous, sunny day. We tried out the new coleslaw. It's great. It looks better, tastes fantastic and is a much classier accompaniment to the quiche, ham and ploughmans. Not so many scones today, but lots of cake. I ought to make a lemon drizzle but we have a coach party first thing in the morning and I probably won't have time. I definitely don't have enough staff working tomorrow. Diana's called in sick (pulled muscle) so it's even worse. I've sent out carrier pigeons to various friends in the hope that one or two will be able to come, but it's half term so a. we'll be busier and b. most of the people I've asked have families off school. I have to admit I'm worried.

Great

I picked up the bread, did a quick shop for necessities we'd run out of and the ingredients for coleslaw and left a team of four to it. It rained a lot, and I thought there were too many people working, but there was stuff to get on with if custom was slow. On my return I was told they'd been busy but they'd coped well, the till balanced (almost - out by 10p) and there was a message for me: "Please may we have a box grater to help us make the coleslaw. Love, The Crew. "

Change is gonna come

Today was the best of the big days so far. Cake, cake and more cake was cut, displayed, served and eaten together with a lake of tea. The magnet system proved a winner - it needs tweaking but it really works. My stress levels stayed surprisingly low despite the crowds because I wasn't seeing trays backing up. The first lunch order (jacket potatoes) went into the kitchen at 1145, the last (ham on granary) at 1650. I fought a constant battle with the contents of the till: I started the day with loads of change. I even had back-up pound coins and 10ps. The situation would look healthy one minute and then 3 customers and 3 twenty pound notes later and I was staring at a problem. But then there's always someone who empties their pocket/purse of coins at exactly the right time to pull me from the brink. And I have to stop myself kissing them.

S'gone

A good Bank Holiday so far. What looked like a large number of staff this morning (9 in total) turned out to be justified as people started to arrive at lunchtime and continued to arrive until 5.05. We baked scones this morning as usual. 35 in the batch. By lunchtime they'd all gone and we took the highly unusual decision to bake again. At the end of the day we had 2 left. Tomorrow is forecast good weather, and I've booked the same number of people to help. Fingers are crossed that 9 is enough.

A time and a place

A second coach party from Kent today. It was a rainy, grim day so had it not been for them we'd have been pretty quiet. Still the slow afternoon allowed us to discuss coleslaw. I mooted that we should make our own. We (Mary, Nancie and I) then talked about recipes, how and when we'd do it, how to minimise waste. We're going to buy cabbage, carrots etc after the Bank Hol and try it out. I kept my powder dry about introducing chilli as a jacket potato filling. Perhaps we'll talk that over on the next slow day. This evening a woman arrived as we were closing to say she was "very upset". We'd moved her dad's bench (a bench with a plaque bearing his name). I had no idea there was a bench position. I went out with her, told her not to be upset and to feel free to move it wherever she wanted to. She didn't smile. At all. I pointed out that we'd treated the bench before opening up, and cleaned up the plaque. I didn't point out that the bench had been in the same place for more than 2 months. I wonder how often they visit it?

Repeat attenders

The little dolphins come most Fridays after their swimming lesson in Abberley. Their mums were the ladies who prompted me all those weeks ago to buy more high chairs, and on Friday lunchtime they use all three and generally order jacket potatoes. People who visit regularly are a real pleasure. David and Katie, for example, often come three times a week for scones or fruit cake with tea. Their daughter Kelly brings her children and has a toasted teacake and a cappuccino. Simon and Sue come on Wednesdays (although after last Wednesday I shall have to coax them back). Simon has an Americano. Sue likes asparagus soup. And millionaire's shortbread. Wendy has a skinny cappuccino. Her daughter likes the apple shortcake.
Sometimes I try to guess what first time visitors are going to choose. An older couple is the easiest - go for two teas, slice of fruit cake for him, victoria sponge for her and it'll hit the mark most of the time.

Très Simples

A day away from base, but a sort of brainstorming session with Becky at a fine Worcester establishment which serves lattes with a leaf shape on top. A bit beyond us at present. Items on the agenda:
1. Running out of mugs during morning coffee
2. Running out of room for trays during busy lunchtimes
We solved 1. by going to Marks and Spencer and buying more mugs. Ingenious.
We are going to try out a solution for 2. which involves magnets. Usually each written order is placed on a tray which is then filled with cups, milk, knives etc. but with lots of orders and a wait for food we often run out of space during busy times. What we're going to try out is pinning orders along a metal shelf above where the trays are. It's a simple idea, but it's tricky to introduce ahead of what promises to be a busy Bank Holiday.

On a White Charger

Stand up Simon.
Meet the man who came to his local tea rooms for lunch and ended up clearing tables and washing up. He was fab. Simon comes at least once a week and today during his soup a multitude descended. Table after table filled with people who queued, ordered, ate and left. I rang for reinforcements but before they could arrive Simon put his head round the kitchen door and asked if he could help. I bit his hand off. He brought in trays, wiped tables and did battle with the dishwashers. He wouldn't even take a thank-you coffee. The second hero of the week and it's only Wednesday.

The Spice of Life

Today was fab. A little cooler so easier to manage. Lovely people who laughed and ate scones. Customers of the day were three brothers who brought their 84 year old aunt back to the village where she grew up. They ordered cake. "Victoria sponge, please" said one; "fruit cake" said the next; "carrot," said the third, "what variety?". I panicked. What variety of carrot was in the cake? I had no idea. I couldn't even guess. I didn't know any carrot varieties. Then it dawned on me that what he'd actually said was "What a variety!". They laughed when I told them. Said I should answer "tinned" if anyone really does ask.
Nancie came in this morning with a swollen eye. She asked if I had any "calamine tea". No honestly, I heard her correctly. Henceforth on this blob chamomile will be known as calamine.

Empty Vessels

Late yesterday afternoon we could all smell gas. We don't have a piped supply. We buy it in huge metal containers that remind me of submarine missiles in the movies. So I didn't really know what to do. We abandoned all cooking (which helped with the heat in the kitchen) and a man called Jeremy answered my call for help . We had a loose cooker knob. We'd also almost run out of gas. Jeremy is my new hero.
A woman came to the counter to complain that her tea was too strong, she preferred more stilton in her quiche and she didn't like the coleslaw.
There goes my Michelin star.

Heatwave

Ice cream tubs and cold drinks. Everyone was sweltering. It was hotter than Bermuda according to the radio. And then two women in a parallel universe who a] sat inside and b] ordered soup and hot chocolate. Fifty people had a scone today, most of those with jam and cream and tea. We had a 'phone call from a Kent group of 36 asking if they could come for lunch on Saturday. Now all I need is staff. Lots of the younger ones either have exams or are going away for the Bank Holiday. I'll have to rope in extended family and old friends at this rate.

Fans. (Saturday)

Lots of egg mayonnaise sandwiches. Is that what people eat on really hot days then? Not a single person sat inside. They came in to order, sighed and said "it's very hot in here. How are you managing?" and made a quick exit to a table in the shade. If they could find one. The coffee machine did very little work, but the local juices and pressés flew out of the drinks fridge. We set up a fan in the heart of the kitchen. If this continues we'll need more. A very nice person wrote: "The Best" in the comments column of the visitors' book.
I think we'll be busy again today as it's another hot one. I've just come back from London after a night out and 5 hours sleep. Probably not the best decision I've ever made.

Cool

Hot. Very hot. Churlish to say too hot?
I found myself wishing that the Summer would be a bit more British. Less of this Med stuff. It's really wearing. And it's only Day One of it. The forecast for the weekend is even warmer.
Almost everyone sat outside today, under the umbrellas which we've now set up for as many of the tables as we could. Everyone except a couple with a combined age of 184 years who sat in the conservatory and had ham salads and a cream tea. She's 93, he's 91. They've been married for 65 years. They met and wed during the 2nd World War when they were both in the forces. They look amazing, and I longed to stay talking with them but people came (and most wanted quiche). I really hope they come back on a quieter day.

Open House

Brilliant day. The sun shone, the coach parties were on time and left happy, the cash and carry man didn't come til 2.30. Perfect. The group of 25 primary school children who came this afternoon were involved in a project. They'd walked from the school (almost a mile) and had invited a few individuals who'd lived in the village for a very long time to tell them about their lives, what the area was like when they were growing up, that sort of thing. Each guest sat at a different table with 2 or 3 kids and after a few minutes a bell would ring and the children would move to the next table to hear another tale. They took photos and made notes and recorded some of what was said and they'll put it all together over the coming weeks. They were wonderfully behaved, and really interested in what was said. I know this because one of them was my son and he told me how great it was: "did you know, mum, people here never used to lock their doors because they had nothing in the house valuable enough to steal?".

Tuna Crisis

Thursday looms. Now looking even busier after a couple of 'phone calls today:
0930 Birthday coffee and cake for 12 after their weekly swim.
1030 Coach party, coffee and cake, 30
1200-1300 Kent Coach party, lunch, 48
1330 Lunch, 8.
1330 - 1500 Tea, coffee, squash, cakes 25 children, 10 adults.
The cash and carry delivery is due to arrive in the middle of all this, but not in time to bring some lunch essentials so Becky went off to Worcester for me. As the last bag was unloaded Freda, sorting the lunch prep, said: "Where do we keep the tuna?" There was none. Inconceivable. Becky went back to Worcester, Sara rushed home for her stash of tinned steaks in brine (which she keeps for any tuna-related emergency).
We didn't do one tuna jacket potato, nor a single tuna sandwich.