The last day of September

This very strange, hot and sunny weather continues.
Everyone who came sat in the garden today.
Everyone was in a good mood.
Most everyone drank tea and no-one appeared in any sort of hurry.
A man called Ray wrote in the visitors' book: "I want to live here."
That made us all smile.

A numbers game

"Two teas, twice please."
"So that's four teas?"
"Well," he said, "there are three of us."
"So you'd like three teas?"
"Yes, please."

QI

Two questions which have stumped me recently.
Both from customers.
1. "Is there any fruit in the Apple Cake?"
2. "Is your cheese vegetarian?"
Turns out some cheeses aren't. Use of rennet in the process apparently.
So I've checked and our cheese is indeed vegetarian.
And yes, there's fruit in the apple cake (he meant sultanas).


Very busy today. Back to high summer. 24 degrees and almost everyone sitting outside. I had to call in two extra people when it became clear the rush was going to last way beyond a normal lunchtime.
We're supposed to close during the week from Monday but if this weather is going to continue I might just cook another ham* and keep my fingers crossed...


*not vegetarian

Happy Mondays

This morning the church warden came in to see us.
He was a little bemused.
He'd just been speaking to a couple in the Church.
"We don't like Baroque" they told him, as they gazed around the interior with wrinkled noses. He urged them to look at the monument near the altar.
"It's too ornate" they commented.
As they were leaving he suggested they visit the tea rooms.
"We don't do tea" they said.

Shine, shine on

Veeeerrrrryyyy quiet today.
We started well. Lots of groups and couples for coffee. But then the rain arrived and the people departed.
This afternoon it brightened up and all talk was of this week's forecast heatwave.
I really hope it happens. It will be a lovely way to end the 7-day-week part of the season.
But I'll believe it when I feel it.

Turn and Face the Strain

A change has occurred. A big change.
I've decided not to close at the end of October but to plough on for weekends in November.
Why?
Because at some point I should try to find out whether there's any demand for us in the colder months, and now's as good a time as any.
And because English Heritage is only opening Witley Court at weekends. In previous years they've been open during the week and they're expecting their new hours will mean more visitors at weekends...
So it'll mean a change to our menu. Out with the salads and sandwiches, in with the comfort food.
I have another one of those knots in my stomach.

Cheek

I am blessed (?) with what is known as "rosy cheeks". I've always had them.
Apparently it's a sign of good health but anyone involved in the make-up or facial business puts their head on one side and looks, well, a little too sorry for me.
Last week when I delivered a tray of goodies to two couples in the conservatory one of the men startled me by saying:
"My dear, you have a lovely complexion."
I was just trying to think of a suitable response when he added:
"Or are you just hot?"

Macs

Thank goodness for the Caradoc and Severn Valley Field Club.
Without them today would have been a wash out.
With them we had a party of 25-plus to fill with coffee, then lunch, then tea. And in between they dodged the showers, toured the Court and had a talk in the Church.
Except for one 97 year old lady who chose to stay warm and dry inside with us.
Tomorrow's meant to be brighter but the summer has certainly gone.
We have only the rest of this month of 7-day opening.
The end of the season is fast approaching.

In cider dealing

Don't let anyone say I don't know how to use a day off.
After all I've definitely had more days away from the tea rooms than I did last season.
So today, after opening up, this is what I did:
1. went to the cash and carry for mayonnaise and brown envelopes
2. walked the dog

3. paired socks (a lot of socks)
4. hid the unpartnered socks at the bottom of the ironing pile
5. added the yeast to my husband's homemade cider (as instructed)

I also ordered a goose for Michaelmas from the finest goose producers in the kingdom (Goodman's Geese) who happen to live in the village.
Delia and Jamie can't be wrong.

The way forward.

I've just seen on another tearooms website that they're offering "a large battered teacake".
Should we do that?

Allegro

Last night we ran the last of the season's concert suppers. When there's an evening concert in the Church we offer three course meals to ticket holders who book.
Sometimes it's well attended and sometimes it isn't.
Last night we had only eight booked in.
Then we took a call from a lady in Ludlow.
There were 20 of them coming on a coach. Would we be open for tea and cake?
Of course, I said, thinking how really quiet we'd be without them.
As we were preparing for their arrival a few members of the orchestra began to drift in after finishing their rehearsal.....
"We've come for our sandwiches and cake," they said.
Nothing had been booked. We were not expecting them.
They drifted out again looking bemused.
Minutes later they were back led by a woman with a credit card:
"Cock up," she said and asked if we could do fifteen rounds of sandwiches and teas.
Pronto.
The main room filled up, and then the Ludlow posse arrived.
Man were we busy.
I loved it.

Cheap Shot

Pleasant but quieter than yesterday.
The Little Dolphins returned after their Summer break (toddler-swimming up the road, and then they come for lunch). Fortunately I'd remembered so we had enough jacket potatoes to go round. The mums were also gathering to fill in a questionnaire for a forensic psychologist's top-up PhD.
She has three kids, two jobs and still has time to top up her PhD.
I have two kids, one job for half the year and I still can't finish the ironing.
A woman bought one of our birdboxes - the shape and colour of a post box.
Not the size of one. Obviously.
She'd mulled over the purchase during lunch worried she wouldn't get it into her suitcase. She lives in Switzerland.
"How nice," I said.
"I like it round here" she replied.
A couple walked out in disgust at the price of a pot of tea and an americano coffee (£4).
Another couple wrote in the visitors' book what great food, service and value for money they felt they'd had.

Jinxed

A top ten day.
Smashing weather, lovely people and noone came til I was ready for them.
We had some seriously nice messages in the visitors book among them one from a fella from Dudley who positively RAVED about Sara's ability to make cappuccinos.
He said he'd had them all over the world (including Italy) and hers was the best.
Although ideally it would have been stronger.
We couldn't froth the milk for toffee after that.

Coached

Opened up and left to take older son to the dentist.
On my return I rang in.
"Is everything alright?" I lazily asked.
"NO IT ISN'T" came the reply, "WE'VE HAD A COACH PARTY TURN UP".
I was there in three minutes (the joy of living very close by) but the panic was all over by then. The unexpected coach had now departed after lunch and there were just a few tables with people at them, among them a young man who looked battered and bruised.
He said he'd been playing rugby for the past two days.
I advised him to give it up.
He looked at me as if I'd gone mad.
I came home again once we were on top of the clearing up.
A man phoned to book in a coach for June 2012.
Now that's more like it.

A Trial

It's bloomin' windy.
I opened up this morning and am now enjoying a day away from the tea rooms.
Doing what?
Organising the busman's holiday that is our annual staff trip to have a lovely Afternoon Tea made and served by someone else.
I say "annual" but of course this is only the second year.
Last year we went to Oxford (The Old Parsonage).
This year the chosen (by me) destination is Cheltenham.
We shall go once our tea rooms has closed for the Winter and judge someone else's scones.
I'm trying to decide between the Hotel du Vin and The Daffodil but I may have to indulge in a recce....

Before the Storm

Saturday's over.
And the rain's here.
The day had been promising. Lunch time visitors sat in the garden. Those on the court tours spread themselves through the main room and outside, eating us out of cheese scones.
The rain arrived as the bride and groom finished having their photographs taken. On the plus side there were lots of men in kilts.
The 106 who were invited to the reception came in for prearranged tea.
Those who weren't invited, but who'd come to witness the ceremony, came in too for...tea and cake. Thus we were busy at both ends of the tea room for a hectic 45 minutes.
The bride sat in the conservatory on her own after everyone had left. Enjoying the quiet.
Then she left for the reception.

Botox?

My younger son started High School this week.
He told his new history teacher that he had an older brother at the school.
"Let me guess," said the history teacher, "does his name begin with a J?"
"Yes," my son replied.
"And does your granny run the tearooms in Great Witley?"

I do

Tomorrow could be interesting.
It's the local fete so I've lost lots of staff (they're all SO community minded).
We have a coach of 23 coming for lunch.
There are 3 booked-up tours of the Court through the day.
And then, at 4, a wedding party. The bride and groom had asked for tea, coffee, scones and cake for 100 people.
But.
This week I've been told there may be 200 at the ceremony.
Eek.
Do I feel worried?

Day of the Foxtrot

Two ladies came at 11.20 and sat chatting in the conservatory with coffee, soup and millionaire's shortbread.
They were the only people with us for AGES.
I busied myself trying to work out how on earth my new phone works.
One of the ladies ordered a second cappuccino.
After delivering it I went back to my phone (out of sight I hasten to add).
Then. Oh my. One couple, then another, then a group of 5 for lunch, two soups here, two teacakes there, suddenly we were full and I was racing from main room to kitchen to conservatory trying to set another filter going and make hot chocolates while taking another order and preparing panini.
As quickly as it started it stopped.
We cleared up and were out by 5.30.
My phone remains a mystery.


Overheard last week from an English Heritage staff member who'd just completed a check of the site and fountain and was relaying bad news via his 2-way radio:
"The nereids aren't even dribbling."
I had to look it up.

When is a Wednesday...?

It's a tricky week. The kids are back at school. It's raining. It's cold.
People come, but not in numbers.
There is a silver lining.
It means I get to read the Teme Valley Times.
A pile of TVTs started appearing at the tea rooms as if by magic this season. I never see anyone arrive with the bundle of them. Someone leaves them on the side table in the conservatory and then disappears without even a mention.
The paper is remarkably popular. Often a couple will grab TWO copies on their way to their table and are engrossed when their tea is delivered.
I haven't had many opportunities to go much beyond the front page until this issue.

On page 3 is a piece about the local jobs bus not arriving at its designated spot when it's meant to - that is one Wednesday a month.
There's a 3 paragraph preamble about it and then this, which I re-read four times:
"Early this year the Teme Valley Times received complaints that the bus wasn't turning up. We have finally got to the bottom of this. The key is simple: the bus does NOT come on the 4th Wednesday of each month. For example, during the first three months of 2011, the bus came on the 4th Wednesday of January, and it came twice in March (but not on the 4th Wednesday) while it didn't come at all in February."

I haven't got further than page 3 yet.

Whipped

I delivered an afternoon tea to a table of 5 on Sunday.
One man leaned back in his chair, gestured at the cream and said:
"Is that squirty or clotted?"
"Neither," I replied.
He made a noise which was a sort of laugh. There was definitely a superiority about it.
I think it's the closest I've come to hearing someone snort with derision.
"What do you mean by neither?" he snorted (with derision - getting the hang of this now)
I answered that if by "squirty" he meant the cream which comes in a can and is squirted out, then it wasn't that. And it wasn't clotted either.
"What is it then?" (the incredulity remained in his voice)
"It's whipped double cream from Mawley Town Farm in Cleobury Mortimer" I answered, giving him the very best information I had.
"Ah," he said, all pleasantness itself, "that's good". And then went on to criticise semi-skimmed and skimmed milk.

He came in as he was leaving to compliment us on our scones.
I told him they were home made.
"I knew it," he said.