Can't Touch This

Sunny and lovely meant we were busy today. Not Bank Holiday busy, thank goodness, but kept-on-our-toes busy. The sort of busy which means we get into a stride and the day flies by. 

We have an order system which uses wooden spoons instead of table numbers. 

Each orderer is given a painted spoon with a number on it and asked where they're planning to sit (main tearoom? conservatory? outside?). When we have a tray ready with their tea, lunch, cake, we then call out the number and find whoever is waving the brightly coloured wooden thing at us.

Today I took an order from a lady and offered her spoon number 27. 

"Do you mind if I get my daughter to come and pick it up?" she asked, "I just don't like touching wooden spoons." 

Miss Heard

Confusion reigned when Mary was talking to two couples who were leaving after lunch towards the end of today. They asked her a question which she thought was' "Do you sell your hand cream?" We have gorgeous Heyland and Whittle stuff in the ladies' loos and do, indeed, sell it.
So Mary answered with a big fat YES and walked them to the gift display.
Where they looked totally baffled.
They hadn't asked about hand cream.
They had asked whether we ever sold our ham.
Each couple left with a parcel containing thick slices of it.
And no hand cream.
Mary left giggling.

Diamond Plus

I forgot to mention Wyndam and Pam came for lunch yesterday with friends.
They are the grandparents of our first ever bride (2011) and are always a pleasure. I've never seen them without a smile.
Yesterday they were celebrating their 63rd Wedding Anniversary.
That's SIXTY THREE YEARS.
Wyn is counting the months till his 90th birthday (13).

Riders in a Storm

Bank Holiday Monday was very different from previous Easter Mondays.
We were busy but certainly not overrun.
We didn't run out of anything.
We chatted to customers.
No one waited very long for their orders.
We had time to refill the drinks fridge and the cake display.
It was strange and very pleasant.

On Friday I wanted to shut up shop. Yesterday I was very happy to be back.

I had arrived to the sound of loud but distant engine roars.
Easter Monday is the Redmarley Freak Hill Climb , always well attended even on the wettest of Bank Holidays.
On Sunday a group of ten people had come in for lunch and cake & told us that they always come to Witley for this particular weekend. They pointed to a lovely looking young man (how old do I sound?): "He rides in the hill climb," they said, "Actually, he won it last year."
No mean feat. The hill is practically vertical.
Storm Katie was due and I asked where they were staying. "We're in caravans up there," they said, "but there are plenty of people in tents." I wonder if they lasted the night in them....

24 little hours

Two very different days.

Yesterday was rammed. People started coming at 10.30 and didn't stop. They queued into the conservatory and no matter how many orders we filled and took out the queue didn't diminish. 

A real shock to the system on day two of the season.

Every table inside and out was filled, emptied and filled again. We ran out of almost everything. No time to talk to customers.

I hated it.

Then today - cold, windy and rainy, but still Easter weekend - we didn't break a sweat. There was time to chat to visitors who'd come from all over the Midlands. 

A lady told me about a material shop she can spend hours in ("not to mention money" added her husband). 

A man wearing two-tone shoes, a waistcoat and floral shirt told me he used to dress very badly but has recently started to dress up and now loves it. 

The wind blew the garden furniture about a bit and a pinnacle off the church (no one was hurt in either incident and no one could really explain what a pinnacle is).

We closed up and were locking up at 5. 

Yesterday it was 6.45. 

I have no idea what to expect from Easter Sunday. 

Fudged

Day one of the 2016 season:
Burnt potatoes, mad dash for tomatoes (forgot to order them) a bacon, Brie and cranberry panini with a distinct lack of cranberry. Still emptying boxes into the gift display at close of play.
These sort of things are the very reason we have a "soft" opening. And I think we got away with it.
Tomorrow is the hard stuff.
A Bank Holiday on the second day.

On the upside, Ruby arrived with a delivery of her fudge and a bag of rejected stuff. Our eyes lit up. "It's grainy," she said, "so I had to start again." (She's just bought a new fudge kettle and is getting used to it.)
There is, honestly, nothing wrong with the rejected blocks.
They certainly don't rate as seconds in my book.
The five of us who were working today kept trying them to make sure.
And we've taken some home so that no one else is forced to eat it.
You're welcome.

Seven

Year itch
Blake's
Deadly sins
Dwarves
Seas
Lucky

In one week we'll be open seven days a week for the next seven months.
And it's my seventh year.

Deadline

Today we have been cleaning the tea rooms in preparation for reopening next week.
Dust doesn't photograph well, otherwise there'd be a large number of images here to show just how much of the stuff was generated from replacing the old floor (carpet) with a new one (Is it wood? Is it laminate? Is it tile?). The dust mountain was added to by replacing the counter top and the main lights.
Now the dust has gone, banished by vacuums and j cloths and mops, but there's still so much to do.

This is the worst part (remind me of this when I write "this is the worst part" midway through the season"). I'm looking forward to opening but can I get everything done? Can I remember to order what's necessary? Will the machines we rely on work on the first weekend of the 2016 season? Which also happens to be a Bank Holiday weekend.
And which some are already predicting to be the sunniest and warmest of recent years.
See my point?