Figures

An interesting conundrum today.
A lady was choosing her cake. Sometimes people ask my opinion, which I'm happy to give. Trouble is I only stock cakes I like, so I find it very difficult to rate one against the other. But this lady had a different question. Which, out of Millionaire's Shortbread and the pecan chocolate brownie, was the least fattening?
No clue.
Nor any desire to know.
They're both delicious and I would hate either to be judged on calorific value alone.
So I stared blankly.
She went for the brownie. I suggested she could eat half and take the rest home for later.
Her turn to stare. That, she said, would mean she'd have to share it with her husband.
Which was not going to happen.

One of the last customers today was an older man wearing sunglasses. He took them off to look at the cakes but put them back on again to make his way to his table.
He told me that 3 months ago he fell asleep while a passenger in a car and when he woke up he'd not only lost the peripheral vision on one side but that sunlight hurt his eyes. I stood in from of him and slightly to the side: "I can only see half of your nose," he said.  Which is plenty from my point of view.
He's hopeful that his sight will get sorted but in the meantime he has to teach his brain how to read in an entirely different way. And of course he can't drive any more.
One of the gardeners at the Court detached his retina a couple of months ago and is on a slow road back to health, desperate to be back at work.
Mental note to appreciate my sight and to stop complaining that, as a well-over-forty year old, I can't stray far from my reading specs.
Another mental note that for some people 2012 was not all about the Olympics, the Jubilee and the rain. Other things go on in people's lives.

Have bought first pumpkin for soup. £3. I think they're more expensive than last year.
But then again, what isn't?

Wag

Another step into the unknown today - we delivered lunch for 9 to the English Heritage Visitors Centre. Sandwiches, cakes and scones. The 9 were having a meeting in a dark room. The windows had been blacked out with cloth in readiness for the Halloween Trail which starts this weekend. I suppose that means I should prepare for Witches' Brew soup (spiced pumpkin) season.

At lunchtime three people came with a little dog and sat in the conservatory. They ordered jacket potatoes and tea.
As they left one of the gentlemen took me to one side:
"We had a mishap with the teapot," he said, "I couldn't pour the hot water into it properly so I held it to the side of the table. I'm afraid I've spilled water on the floor."
I nodded and said that some of our teapots are tricky little things. I'd get it cleared up.
I was amazed he was going to so much trouble to tell me of a little water spillage.
"I wanted you to know that it was me," he added, "not the dog. It really is just water, I assure you."

Amo amas a matter of dignity.

A busy Friday when I was called away from a fundraising curry lunch to deal with a plethora of panini orders.
A good Saturday. Those cyclists again (drug free) who arrived en masse for teacakes and tea.

A lovely Sunday.
It started crisp and cold with a dog called Jet and the two people who brought her and who could see their own breath inside the conservatory. They needed hot chocolate.
Customers of the day were the pair who hadn't seen the Court since he drew up the archeological plans in 1981. They had Afternoon Tea. The scones come with jam and cream and they choose their cake. Soon after we'd delivered the cake stand she was back at the counter: "I know it's infra dig," she said, "but may I have some butter with my scone?"
I have looked up "infra dig" not being entirely sure of its meaning.
It means something which is below what is thought of as socially acceptable. Or undignified.

One might say my recent appearance on The Food Hospital holding a pot of urine and standing next to a man dressed as an asparagus spear is the very essence of infra dig. 

Not her cup of tea

It rained.
But it wasn't a wash out.
Among those who came was a couple who brought their two dogs. She took them into the conservatory while he ordered.
He asked for coffees - an americano for him and a latte for her. Soup for him. And then two leek, mushroom and gruyere quiches. One for each of them. Very straightforward.
He left the counter and went to join her.
But only briefly because soon she was at the counter:
"My husband ordered me a latte," she said, " but I'd like tea.  And he ordered me quiche and I don't want that". She scanned the menu and chose a bacon, Brie and cranberry panini.

Hard habit to break

A family came in recently - daughter in her 20s/30s and her parents.
Dad asked if the fruit cake is moist (tick) then if the apple cake is moist (tick,tick). Then while he was making up his mind his daughter asked about gluten free cake.
We ran through our three options but unfortunately she doesn't like banana, lemon and courgette nor orange, carrot and sultana. She had an ice cream.
Dad then asked if he could SEE the apple cake up close. When we put it on the counter he stuck out his hand to give it a squeeze....
We suggested he shouldn't actually touch it.
"But I might buy it" he said. We repeated that we didn't think he should feel the cake in case he didn't buy it.
His wife was evidently a little put out: "No-one's ever said no to us before." she said.



They did eventually choose (carrot please, but not an end piece).
And as they left they called out: "lovely cake, thank you".

Special delivery

A great weekend. The sun shone and it was crisp and cold - perfect October days - which meant people came out for soup and panini and jacket potatoes and lots of scones (a relief since I thought I'd seriously over-ordered cream).
The first person in today brought us a gift. She reversed her soft-top car down to the door. Out of the back seat she hauled a big (and I really mean big) thing in a pot.
She had 'phoned a few days earlier: could we take her avocado plant which she'd grown from a stone? It was now too big for her house and was bent over and extending horizontally.  She wasn't kidding.
We've put it in the conservatory. Next to the arum lilies. In the opposite corner to the fig tree. They'll all Winter together like green buddies. Big green buddies.

At lunchtime we found a floral bag which had been left on a chair in the garden. In it were, among other things, a wallet and a mobile 'phone. In her contacts we found a home number in Bolton some 120 miles away.
Late this afternoon the lady in question returned our call. From Bolton. She hadn't realised she'd lost her bag until she heard our message on her answer phone.
Off  to the Post Office in the morning to reunite them.

Essential reading

I seriously doubt that I shall ever have a week like this one again.

Wednesday night on the telly holding up a urine sample. 

Today the publication of Essentials magazine's November issue in which, on page 39, I tell the story of the woman who did a wee in the garden. There's a lot more in the Essentials article than just the pee tale. Honest. Including photos of the tearoom. 

Had publication date been later I might have squeezed in the story of the knicker discovery (8th Sept- Bocker Glory).
Or am I becoming too niche? 

Bjork day II

We were busy today but this afternoon it was strangely quiet.
We didn't lack customers.
But the people who came whispered to each other. There was no raucous laughter. No hubbub.
No cheerfulness (apart from the two women who raved about the cheese scones).
And no tips.
There was a conspiratorial couple of ladies who said they'd have cake after their lunch "because it was a bad day".

And no one, it seemed, recognised me after my primetime appearance on Channel 4 last night.

Today a man brought his mum all the way from Saffron Walden in Essex because she wanted to see Witley Court. I did my usual bullying to make sure they also saw the Church. 
Which they loved.
Of course.
Then they asked what they should do tomorrow? Where else should they visit round here?
I gave them a few ideas but really I should have lots of answers. Leaflets even.
Trouble is I don't go anywhere else...
Something else for the Winter months?

Saw myself on telly this evening. Looking at the footage I can't understand how I managed to get so sunburnt that day.
I was, after all, wearing a cardigan...

Urine luck

Channel 4
Tonight
8pm
The Food Hospital
A field, 30 pee samples and me cooking asparagus.

Full steam ahead

We are in unchartered waters.
The tea rooms have always closed during October weekdays, only opening at weekends (excepting the half term week).
A few weeks ago I laughingly said that we'd stay open throughout October because the weather couldn't possibly be as poor as April's was.

It's raining.

On a more positive note we have a party booked in for lunch today and I seem to remember from the last time this group came that they're cake lovers....