The good old days

Monday was a wash out. My first awful Bank Holiday.
Still it meant I didn't run out of bread. Or milk.
Today was much better. A group of ten ladies came, parked, went for a walk and then almost to a woman ordered quiche (asparagus and dolcelatte). We had grandparents who were looking after kids on half term, one of whom did that it-was-different-in-my-day thing.
The children were looking in the drinks fridge and the ice cream cabinet.
"Kids today," said grandad, "can't make up their mind."
I smiled and mentioned that there's perhaps more choice these days.
"In my day," gramps continued, "we were told what to have, so it didn't take as long."
Yep. That'll do it.

A singular day

We discovered this morning that we have tickets for an Olympics 2012 event.
We've no idea which one but there are four of us and £71 has been taken from our account so we're pretty doubtful we'll be attending the opening ceremony. To be honest I don't even know what we've applied for and I'm already worried about staffing the day here when I head on down to the smoke to watch the heats of the horse-dancing with ribbons.
I am concerned about something else too.
I am very proud of my menu board. I am pedantic about spelling and grammar and insist that apostrophes will only appear in the correct place in any establishment run by me.
So imagine how distraught I felt when I heard one of my customers suggesting to his partner, as they perused the board, that he might order a "panino".
Of course that makes the plural "panini".
But on my board it says "Paninis".
He said nothing but I knew what he was thinking, and Oh the shame.
The board rubber will be put to use first thing in the morning.

It's a Bank Holiday tomorrow.
The forecast is dreadful.
But that could be misleading.

Here comes the Panini

A gentleman carrying his young son in his arms was among the first in today.
Double espresso and a scone with jam and cream.
His little boy had a bag of Tyrells. Tractor flavour. According to the picture on the packet.
When they left they bought a bracelet for Mummy. I wondered if she was having a much needed Saturday morning lie-in.
Today was the day for soup (asparagus - the last week of the season so the farmer's warned me) and ploughmans lunches. It was not a jacket potato day. I know this because we threw all but one away. Yesterday we couldn't get them in the oven fast enough.
I was asked in-depth questions about the best place to hold a wedding reception by a family who've just booked the church for June next year.
I gave them the benefit of my pretty poor knowledge.
They had paninis and scones (and the solitary jacket spud).
The groom said he'd love to have paninis for his wedding feast...

Ready and Waiting.

Who stood out today?
The woman who said, "Can I be awkward and have a piece of quiche with my soup instead of a roll?"
The man who said, "I'll sit in here. There are children in the other room." He was a bus driver from Twickenham and he says he sees enough kids in his day job. Doesn't want to mix with them on holiday.
The three local ladies who all delivered their ordered cakes and quiche ready for the Bank Holiday weekend.
As I was cutting, covering, finding places for it all (just) it dawned on me that this could be quite a busy time.
I've ordered loads of bread and milk and as far as I can tell I just need to buy apples and cucumbers to be ready for the masses.
Come on down.

Stains scone

It rained. And rained.
I honestly doubted anyone would come. But come they did and they appreciated the warmth of the conservatory and the tomato-and-fresh-basil soup.
Yesterday Fi (who sells lovely jewellery from a display cabinet at the tearooms) suggested some miracle stuff for cleaning vinyls that she has. She also sent other ideas - dettol, kerosene, rotten milk, hairspray. Then the lighter fuel suggestion was mooted. I'm quite getting into the idea of these weird things sorting out a biro stain.
However.
It's gone.
I don't know how.
One of the many things we dabbed on it has worked.
Either that or the elves have been in overnight and changed the cloths around.
Thanks to all the Kims and Aggies who proffered help.
Visitors' Book entry today "Just as lovely as ever" made us smile.
One last week: "V. reasonable" made us laugh.

Pen and Ink

Things go wrong. Things get broken. Things are spilled.
Vinyl table coverings are scribbled on in biro.....
How do I get it out? I've tried all the cleaning products we have but nothing touches it, and it'll be troublesome and expensive to replace it. Obviously it's one of the larger tables.
I hope the U3A coach party coming to us for coffee then lunch tomorrow don't think we're slovenly.
Perhaps I'll ask them if they've any ideas how to remove the offending stain.

Stop. Start.

The suppers went down well. Six tables served. Two booked for future concerts. Result.
Except that I'll have to come up with a different menu now.
First through the door this morning (1015) a couple from Swindon who love the Court and like to use their English Heritage membership often. They're also National Trust members. They like the Trust tearooms (but ours is their favourite) and they love the English Heritage audio tours. And they've just had a new grandchild. Oh and they've just cruised back from the Caribbean. And they've been married 40 years and love asparagus. They had teacakes.
The rest of the day was up and down (please note I didn't say *rollercoaster*).
One minute the five of us stood around with NOTHING to prepare, carry out, clear or wash up, and the next all five were SO busy. I swear groups of customers must've been hiding together round the back of the hedge sniggering. Then someone blew a whistle and they all rushed in. We went from nothing to full in minutes. 0-60 in tea time.
Day off tomorrow.
I might open up and then go back to bed. How decadent?

A time and a place.

Quieter and cooler. Fewer people ventured outside. One couple in late afternoon ordered tea and cake. I suggested that they should sit in the warm, bright conservatory.
Ooh yes, said she, and then went off to spend a penny.
He glanced in the conservatory where there were a few couples. And then he sat in the main tea room. On his own.
I delivered the tray of goodies. Was he sure he wanted to sit in here - it is much nicer next door?
Yes. He was sure.
His wife returned from the ladies, looked at him, and sighed.
When they left I was outside in the garden. I said I hoped they'd had a good time.
Yes, he said with a hangdog look, but I sat in the wrong place.

Some Like It Hot.

Back to blue sky best. There were lots of early birds who came for coffee ahead of a talk in the church. They were from an italianate society (don't know, didn't ask) and they came back for soup and cake.
I've been thrown a curved ball on chilli. Last week when I suggested to someone ordering it as a jacket spud filling that it was "quite fiery" she questioned me. Was it eye wateringly fiery? No, I said. She ordered it and when I asked for feedback she pretty much said "pah, that's not what I call fiery".
Yesterday a lady took one mouthful and brought it back. Too hot, she said, and opted for coleslaw instead.
Today another was making her choice.
"I'd like jacket potato with chilli" she said.
"It's quite hot" said I, my usual mantra. Most people smile and say that's just how they like it.
This lady looked really shocked. And chose something else.
So how hot should a chilli be?
Customers of the day were four lovely, funny, walking-boot-clad mates who arrived in the late afternoon for tea and cake. They weren't local, laughed that they didn't really know where they were and I urged them to visit the Church because it's a sight to behold and they couldn't walk the miles they had, come this close and NOT see it.
Turns out they're all vicars.
The last thing they probably wanted to do was see another church.
But when they left they dutifully turned up the path towards it.

Ask a silly question.

A weird day. It promised to be busy but then suddenly stopped. The afternoon was rescued by a flurry at 3.30 when a horticultural group finished its tour of the Court gardens. Most wanted tea. One of their number tried our new gluten free cake - orange, carrot and sultana. She said she'd certainly be back for more. It's great to be able to offer a choice now to those avoiding wheat. I can't wait til Novak Djokovic next comes in.
When we take orders we always ask where they're planning to sit and then write a note on the order - main, conservatory or o/s for outside - so that we know where to deliver it. One day last week I asked a lady where she'd like her tea. She threw the question to the little girl at her side:
Where would you like to sit? she asked her.
"Next to grandad," she said.
So that's what I wrote.

Secret Supper

I have one eye on Saturday. We have 21 members of the Sinfonia of Birmingham booked in for High Tea at 5.30 before their concert in Witley Church at 7.30. And we'll be serving a 3 course supper to some of their audience from 6.
A 3-course supper of what?
Yet to be decided.
It'll involve local asparagus.
That's as far as I've got.

A new leaf

Before opening up on Saturday I made a quick detour to the library to collect the next Robert Muchamore in the series my 11 year old is reading. And to order the next one.
He sat by the (unlit) log burner in the main tea room all morning until he'd read half of it. That's when I interrupted (dreadful mother, but the next one won't arrive for another week).
So many customers commented on the sight. They asked what he was reading, what it was about, what did he like about it; said they loved reading and how great it was to see a young person engrossed in a book.
Oddly they didn't have same reaction when he brought his games console with him yesterday.

Hitch

The first person through the door was a lady.
"Please tell me you have tea and the Church is open today."
Tick. And tick.
Turns out she'd walked the seven miles from Stourport, almost getting runover in the process. She was doing some course at Oxford which involved baroque stuff and thought she'd walk from her narrow boat, on which she lives for 5 months of the year, to see the baroque Church.
She ordered tea and a teacake and, rather threateningly, said there was no way she was walking back. She'd "hang around looking for a lift".
Friday the 13th was kind to her. Actually my dad was kind to her. He gave her time to see the Church then drove her back via the garage which was servicing his car.
He says he didn't have to say much on the journey.

Do You Know The Way?

I arrived in the rain. Pouring rain. The kind of rain you wouldn't go out into if you could help it. The dog wouldn't get out of the car. Sniffed the air and decided to stay put.
I almost texted Becky to tell her not to bother coming in.
One woman arrived for coffee and a chocolate pecan brownie. She said she was meeting her friend here but couldn't wait for cake. I was grateful. There would be at least 2 customers then.
The rain stopped, the sky brightened, lots of people came for lunch. Thank goodness I hadn't sent that text.
There were all the swimming-toddler-mums sitting outside and drinking cappuccinos and eating quiche. There are a group of about 8 of them. Sometimes they all come, sometimes just 2 or 3, but man do they make a mess (well, the kids do). They're always really lovely and pile the plates together to make it easier for us to clear up. I never mind the state of the table. It reminds me of home. Today there were white chocolate buttons sticking out of the remnants of a jacket-potato-with-beans. And the buttons were smeared with soil and grass so some poor mum had even bothered to pick them up off the floor.
A message in the visitors' book came from someone from near San José, USA.
It read: There's nothing like this in the whole of California.

Fishy request

Day off today, and time to go the library, bank & obligatory charity shop.
Yes. Another pin tray, another teapot. Two more plates.
I was reminded when I opened up this morning of our strangest jacket potato filling-combo yet.
It was yesterday. Sunday lunch.
It was so strange that I thought the order must be wrong. I sought out the 20-something man to check whether Jacket Potato with Tuna Mayonnaise and Chilli really was what he wanted?
Jennifer said this morning that she never had liked that surf 'n' turf.

Salad Shirking

Of the many who ordered our homecooked-ham-salad-with-new-potatoes yesterday, two had amendments to make.
The first was a lady in her thirties: Ham salad please, but forget the salad.
Did she just want the ham and new potatoes? Yep. Can't stand rabbit food, she said.
Not even tomatoes, a little cucumber? I moved gently. Nope. Won't eat it. It would be a waste.
The second was an older man: Ham salad, please. No lettuce.
He would have all the salad except the leaf variety.
Not allowed it, he said. He looked downcast.
He'd cheered up by the time he came back for two slices of coffee and walnut cake.

Young Shoulders

Strange day.
Blue skies, then showers then blue again and a group of sponsored walkers who covered a 6 miles circular walk from the tea rooms.
Apparently the Court featured in the Telegraph gardening section yesterday and in a Times competition a couple of weeks ago. Whatever next?
Overheard this weekend...
Dad: This is the best scone in the world.
Son (aged around 9): How do you know? You haven't tried them all yet.

Dampener

The busy week has just ground to a halt.
I've nipped home to print off the next staff rota because there is just one family of four enjoying paninis as I write (at least I hope they're enjoying them). They came in sodden and complaining that their waterproofs were not.
Yesterday was a favourite day. The warm afternoon brought families in straight from school pick-up. There was a feeling of reunion about the place. Lots of people knew each other and the kids all wanted cake and cheese scones.
A local artist has brought in a print she's done of Lady Rachel. Our garden belonged to the Lady in question when she lived at the Court. Anne (artist) has painted her from a photograph and says she looks terribly sad, though she's tried to perk her up a bit. Anne also told me that Lady Rachel drowned in the Irish Sea.
I'll go back now. The sky is brightening so perhaps a few more folks will venture out....

All the Tea in China

I have to admit to an addiction. It's become clear over the past few months that I can't pass a charity shop without checking whether it has any bone china. At first it was just tea plates. Then it became cake stands (very few and far between), then bread and butter plates.
Then it was entire tea sets, often missing a jug, or a sugar bowl, or with a chipped cup or cracked saucer. I didn't care. I'd buy the lot.
Since the tea rooms reopened on April 1st I haven't been near a hospice shop, or an RSPCA outlet, or an Age Concern boutique. I thought I had it under control.
Today I had a day off. Oh dear. I hit three different towns and four different shops and discover that my addiction is stronger than ever. Now I'm searching the shelves for teapots and, here's a new thing entirely, little pin trays.
The tea paraphernalia I can pass off as a business need. But bone china pin trays?
They're so beautiful though.

To each his own

Another great Bank Holiday when the coffee drinkers came early:
"Are you open yet? I've brought my 92 year old mother" was first in. He thinks the whole country is in better form since the Royal Wedding on Friday.
Then the lunch takers came. I congratulated everyone who came before midday on their wisdom of arriving ahead of the crowd.
Then came the crowd to test my eleven strong team.
The most frustrating customer (who of course is still always right) is the one who stands in the queue waiting for his order to be taken, then when asked doesn't know what he wants. Or the one who sends a small child out at that very moment to ask whether mum wants tea or coffee.
Actually all the customers, without exception, were very pleasant today. One family had even brought rugs to sit on the lawn in case there wasn't an available table. Which there wasn't.
We reunited a pair of glasses with one customer and an ipod touch with another.
Yesterday I heard one woman telling another that redbush tea is disgusting and she can't work out why anyone would want to drink it.
Today a couple told me that they judge a tearoom as good only if it stocks redbush.
Phew.

In Tiers

A Sunday to be reckoned with. Another bright, warm, busy one.
Customers included a couple on an internet date. How do I know?
He came in to order for her and asked whether we had biscuits. I pointed out the little bags of shortbread rounds made by Angela and he looked perplexed:
"Doesn't she like shortbread?" I asked.
"To be honest," said he, "I don't know what she likes."
And told me the story.
There was a request for a decaf earl grey which I couldn't fulfil.
And another to buy six slices of the ham we'd given them for lunch as it was the best they'd ever tasted. Which I could.
We were also visited by the Bride and Groom from our afternoon tea wedding in June together with her mum and dad, sister, grandparents, aunt and uncle and the photographer and his girlfriend. The last time they were at the tea rooms the garden was covered with snow. This time it was in full sunshine and she brought me a photo of a cake which she'd like to have on the day. Two levels of sponge sandwiched with cream, strawberries and blueberries. Looks delicious, very girly and not in the least bit fattening.
I am now getting almost daily requests from people who want to buy our tiered cake stands. Perhaps I should have a sideline....
Tomorrow is yet another Bank Holiday.
I'm going in early, although I sense that even if I were to go in now I wouldn't be fully prepared for what's to come.