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. "