1912

This is Dorothy who graces our tea rooms regularly with her daughter and son-in-law. She is, I believe, our oldest customer. On St George's Day she'll be 101. 

She says her great age is attributable to porridge.

But she does like chocolate cake too.

A timely reminder.

I feel so foolish.
Have just read a post from this time last year.
I told myself to remember that poor weather does not a poor Bank Holiday make.
I didn't.
I forgot.
Will try to remember for Monday.

Snowed

I woke to sunshine.
And still I didn't realise just how busy we would be.
I nipped home before opening to pick up the final two tables for the conservatory and by the time I returned (ten minutes later) I had an audience. Early birds for coffee.
And yet still it didn't occur to me that we'd be inundated. How many Bank Holidays have I done now? Why do I never learn?
There was still snow on the ground but I shouldn't underestimate the power of the sun on sun-starved people like us. It makes people eat cake.
We ran around all day. We ran out of bread, panini, cottage rolls...
At four o'clock, when things had calmed down considerably, the electricity gave up.
I do not want to talk about this.
For a while at least.

Taking a chill pill

Another cold one. But the stories from Andy the milkman and the two boys who collected the bins show we're having it easy compared to some.
The conservatory is SO nearly ready to rumble...just a couple more tables to install and we're there. That's when I can take a photo. Should be tomorrow. I feel so much better. Not quite as tense. A miracle. Now if only it would warm up.
All the outside tables and chairs are now, well, outside.
I shall note when the first hardy souls choose to sit out.
Rather them than me.

Inglorious Mud

Ta-da.
The tea rooms opened its doors today for my fourth season.
Seven months of seven days a week lie ahead.
I was making a double espresso to get Freda through the soup-and scone-making process (always tricky on the first day back at school) when I noticed it was snowing. SNOWING. Last year at this time people were sipping their tea in the garden.
I am always genuinely surprised when people come on days like this but come they did. Not in huge numbers but in friendly pairs. All were people who'd been before. Not only had they come through snow but along a mud-caked track.
They all need to wash their cars now.
It was warm inside the tea room, but the china was freezing when it came out of the cupboards. And no one spent much time in the loos - Baltic cold in all of them.
To those who ventured out, I salute you.

Tea Tense

My coffee machine was serviced today in readiness for the new season.
Chairs were delivered.  My kids would call them old-school, which they are. Literally.
I ordered some bottles of local apple juice and some half moons of Lightwood cheddar.
I wrote the new menu on the boards.
I carried all the newly painted white chairs through to the conservatory (which will not be ready to receive visitors until Friday) so that the carpet in the tea room can be cleaned tomorrow.
I did some other stuff which is even more dull but which needed doing.
There is still snow on the ground.
It's still cold.
There's still rather a lot on the 'to do' list.
I am quite stressed.
We reopen on Wednesday.

Snow joke

This is the tea rooms this afternoon. We reopen on Wednesday for the Summer season. This could be interesting.

Post haste

The Mp3 player I earned with the whopping twelve point score yesterday (see yesterday) has already arrived.
I sense that Mr Bruce wants our relationship over and done with.
My sleep last night was disturbed by reruns of the whole sorry episode.

Pop goes the Bubble

I had thought I was quite good at pop trivia.
Until today.
(In a similar vein I had thought I could dance. Until I started Zumba classes a few months ago.)
This morning I rang the Radio 2 number to try to take part in Popmaster on Ken Bruce's programme. I was asked 3 trial questions which I got right and went into the draw for contestants.
And out came my name.
Which meant that at half past 10, when I should had been cleaning the cake display cabinet, I found myself standing in the conservatory trying to answer correctly the 10 questions Mr Bruce asked. I managed to answer 8, but sadly only 3 of them were right.
The other contestant, Maxine, had an even worse set of questions than I did.
Which meant I won. Sort of. And was through to the dreaded next round where you have to name three hit songs by a given artist in ten seconds.
I can never do this. Unless it's The Jam . Or maybe The Beatles.
I got Daryl Hall and John Oates.
And I can't go for that.
No.
No can do.

Stirring

Today I shall mostly be painting spoons.
Not teaspoons but the wooden spoons we use for orders. They have numbers painted on them and it helps us to find people when we're busy.
Strangely I have developed favourite numbers. This means as soon as a particular spoon comes back to the counter I'll send it out again leaving many spoons under-used and forlorn.
I know it's a character flaw and I am trying to kick this habit but since there is no specific therapy I've decided to introduce some new numbers into the system. On pink painted spoons.
Shake it up a bit.
One might imagine I have too much time on my hands....

@tearoomsgill

A new day has dawned.
For too long I have had a twitter account. Not dormant, because that suggests it was once used and is now just sleeping. But mine has never been used. It was created for me and until today I didn't even know where to find it.
I've now had a quick lesson (thank you, Sharon) and all that's left to do is to come up with some incisive, short thoughts which are worth reading.

Let's see how that goes.