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.
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