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.