Warm glow.

I didn't take my cardigan off today.
This shows two things:
1. It was cool enough this morning to warrant a cardigan and the temperature didn't change.
2. We weren't busy. I didn't run into the kitchen and outside like a mad thing raising my core body temperature enough to need to remove a layer of clothing.

A second mystery shopper report came today. Very pleasing.

On egg shells

A very pleasing Bank Hol Monday.
Not the sunniest or warmest but busy nevertheless. I called in extra family help when folks started ordering lunches at 11.30. We did a roaring trade in panini and jacket potatoes, lattes and hot chocolates. And soup (courgette and tomato).
And cake, of course. Apple cake and Mystery cake took the honours for the day.
There were lovely comments in the visitors' book.
Among them a double act entry from Rebecca & Mum.
Rebecca wrote: The best quiche I have ever tasted.
Mum added: Thanks, what does that say about the quiche I make?

Learning from Madonna

I've been away this week. We went to Yorkshire for some unexpected sunshine. We were forecast rain and instead we did York and Malton and Whitby and Brimham Rocks and Malham in T-shirts. Lovely.
At Malham we had afternoon tea. Had to test out the scones and the idea that in Yorkshire if you order fruit cake they give you a piece of cheese with it. They didn't. But the scones were great.
On the walk to the cove I was thinking about next season (only a few weeks of this one left) and how to make changes without, well, changing. Sort of like Madonna. We need to reinvent ourselves every so often without alienating the core audience who will always love a bit of Vogue and Papa Don't Preach.
I'm not suggesting noisettes d'agneau just yet, but would the Get-Into-the-Groovers like a Pork Pie Platter to play alongside the jolly successful Lightwood Cheddar Ploughmans?

In other news I've been asked to give a talk to the local WI on the lighter side of running a tea rooms.

In hot water.

When we serve tea we deliver two pots to the table. One of tea and one of hot water so that either you can make your tea the strength you'd like it or top up the teapot for an extra cup.
This afternoon a woman strode into the kitchen bearing the hot water pot.
"You forgot to put the teabag in" she said.

Last week a young couple called Eileen over to their table as she was clearing plates.
They were students, about to go off to university.
They felt their education was incomplete.
"We have to ask," they said and gestured at the extra-hot-water pot, "What is this for?"

Pickle

For the first time in weeks people came in complaining of the cold today.
They wanted soup and jacket potatoes. They wanted the door closed in the conservatory. They wanted to sit INSIDE. We took delivery of the chocolate and beetroot brownies. One lady thought the beetroot was cherry.
A man trying to guess the mystery ingredient in the Mystery Cake (courgette, remember?) asked if it was gherkin.....
Said he'd once been given some chocolate and gherkin cake. Now of course gherkin and courgette aren't a million miles apart, but I could only think of the pickled ones my dad used to eat in large numbers.
An 89 year old lady who'd been brought out for her birthday said she was "knocked out" by the experience. Said she didn't know why all her friends wanted to go to Weston on a charabanc. It was full of children. And old people.

Knit Wit

So yesterday nothing was billed and EVERYONE in the world decided to come.
Today we had booked in two coach parties (70 people) three minibuses (20 people + 18 carers) and a knit'n'natter group of 13. Only about a third of the 70 showed up, the minibuses were done and dusted by 12 and the knit'n'natter group's orders for tea and cake (mainly coffee and walnut) weren't difficult. Except in the delivery:
"Coffee and walnut?" asked Jennifer
"No, mine's tea and walnut" came the reply.

I had WAY too many staff on today.
We stood and compared the AS level results of the five 17-year-old members of staff.
We even ate lunch at a reasonable time.
And we cooked too many jacket spuds.
The forecast torrential rain failed to show up but the thought of it was enough to deter.
My family is off to the Green Man festival tomorrow leaving me with the dog for the weekend.

Now wash your hands

The mystery cake continues its success. I'm always astonished that people will order something even when they're not certain of the ingredients. It's obviously a chocolate cake but, as we tell everyone, it has a mystery ingredient to identify (courgette). People guess at nutmeg, chilli, beetroot, cinnamon, almonds...
Over the weekend I delivered a slice to a table. The woman who'd ordered it was otherwise engaged at the time. Her daughter just wanted to check something as her mother had an allergy:
"The mystery ingredient," she asked, "it's not marmite is it?"

Yesterday someone wrote their name, their address and the date in the visitors' book. And then under comments wrote "quite interesting".
What was quite interesting? The Court? The Church? The quiche?
Someone else wrote "Toilets - excellent hygiene"

Hitting the right note

The Mystery Cake** is back. And going down very well.
Overheard this morning:
"She's already complaining that she's got to sing second soprano."
"But he won't stand for that."
"No, he certainly won't."

(**chocolate and courgette. Shhh)

Never a dull moment.

I sauntered in yesterday, expecting a quiet-ish day.
Mistake.
50+ members of the Kerry (Wales) Silver Threads group arrived by coach at midday to see Witley Court and they came to us for coffee, cake and lunch. And then tea. They left at 4pm.
They formed a very orderly queue at the counter having parked five blue walking frames in the entrance. They also left a very lovely message in the visitors' book.
I went to collect my boys from football camp and suffered yet another flat tyre, ending up walking back to the tea rooms for the clearing up session.
And today my son becomes a teenager.

Court Short

I try very hard not to judge but other people can be strange (see previous entry for example)
Today the Three Choirs Festival came to Great Witley. The festival happens every year in one of three cities (Hereford, Worcester and Gloucester) and their surrounding areas and attracts folks from all over the country. For today's event "Trills and Thrills" a performance of recorder and harpsichord people had come in huge numbers. So many it was a sell out of 200+ and needed a parking steward.
And it was sunny.
The concert started at 11 so we opened early and served coffees and scones and cake, took orders and bookings for lunches.
Anyway.
My lovely dog, Jess, stays at the back of the tearooms when she's with me.
Shortly before 1pm she started barking. That meant there was someone somewhere they shouldn't oughta be so I went out to check. Close to the corner I could see a coat on the floor and as I made my way forward I spotted a bag. On the floor.
I said: "Hello?"
"Please don't look," came the reply from a woman in, I'd guess, her seventies, "I'm going to the toilet."
Stunned.
"We do have toilets inside." I said.
I left her to it.

T Cup

Another lovely day, despite the weather forecast. It rained but not til late afternoon and not until we'd served dozens of ploughmans, quiches, ham salads and jacket spuds.
When we're busy we have a system to help us find people. We give them a numbered wooden spoon when they order, and ask them to listen out for their number to be called.
This gives rise to a number of (repeated) conversations:

I give a middle aged gent the number 18.
He says: "how did you know my age?"

I give a couple number 6.
He/she says: Is it six or nine?
I say: Hold it upside down and you might get a better order

I give a family number 42. We talk about the meaning of life. The children look bemused.
I give a man number 46. He says. That's funny, that's our house number.
Etc etc etc.
I never tire of it. People often pretend they're going to use the spoons as a weapon or they make some comment about stirring.
Today was a surprise.
I handed a woman Number 38.
"oh how funny, " she said, "that's my bra size"

Courage

It was a gloriously sunny, warm day.
A Dutch couple came in this afternoon for tea. They were spending a few days in this part of the world before moving on. They couldn't pronounce where they were going, just pointed to the map: Betws-y-Coed. I attempted a pronunciation (bets-er-coyd?) but told them they'd hear many different variations until they got there.
I told them how lovely it was that they were seeing so much of Britain.
She said it was her husband's first time here:
"I couldn't get him to come to the UK before," she sighed, "he thinks it rains all the time".

Hope they haven't seen the forecast for tomorrow.
Hope they brought an umbrella.

The rub of the green

The first people in today? A married couple who ordered coffee.
We had a chat, knew a few of the same people from a former life and he gave me his card.
His name? Chris Green.
Her name? Theresa.
She kept her maiden name.
Unsurprisingly.

Another hero for the list.

Someone was smiling on me today.
The weather (forecast earlier in the week as rain) was glorious and I began to worry that if today was the same as yesterday I wouldn't have enough staff. I called around and couldn't find any extra help. I left one message.
A lady called Helen who comes in from time to time for a double shot cappuccino (with extra hot milk and extra froth) arrived at about 11. We chatted for a few minutes and I mithered about staff. She said she was going for a walk after her coffee and went to sit in the garden.
Granny arrived to take my boys to see Captain America. A few others came for a lot of filter coffee and a fair few portions of cake (favourite today was Apple Shortcake).
Then Helen came back. Would I like her to help? She could wash up, clear tables, take trays?
I thought about it.
For about two minutes.
And so Helen spent four hours with us. And the message I'd left was returned as well so we had enough people and it was a lovely day and everyone was smiling and happy and the only downer of the day was that we had FIVE jacket potatoes left over.

Captain America was in 3D.
Turns out Granny hasn't seen a 3D film since the fifties.
She couldn't remember which one that was.

Fruit and Veg

So many cold drinks. So many ice creams. And ice lollies. And bags of crisps.
Even on a hot day like today we sold out of soup (courgette, watercress and celery) and jacket potatoes. We've been brought courgettes from Peter in the village so I sense this year may the second glut in a row. Great for us, and for our chocolate courgette cake which was a real favoutite last season.

I've never known us get through so much cream. It's always been offered with scones (which are flying out of the door on tiered stands) but we're also now serving it with the strawberries and raspberries. I've had to up my order for tomorrow. And cross my fingers.

One couple today told me they came because we'd been recommended by an Italian they met on holiday. In Italy.
That doesn't happen every day.

Irony knee

A lovely busy day which had promised little when we woke to overcast skies. Still it stayed dry and when lunch started it really started. We had two birthdays. A woman I'd not met before had a pecan brownie to celebrate hers. A man who comes regularly made his eightieth birthday extra special by having lunch and a piece of raspberry and coconut slice.
Freda limped in this afternoon to ask if Mary could work on Wednesday in her place. She told us that yesterday she went to her local church healing service.
And injured her knee.
You couldn't make it up.