The right answer

Two weeks after the tearooms closed and I have finally finished ironing.
Three baskets piled high, plus the inevitable washing loads from this week. I’ve watched a lot of tv quiz shows and have realised that 15-1 is actually quite dull. I much prefer The Chase.
What to do next?
Maybe I should apply...
Or put another load of washing in.

Almost there

One day left.
Today Geoff and Maureen came in for lunch, brought us a box of chocolates and a lovely card, bought a whole fruit cake which Geoff will ply with alcohol until Christmas and a painting from the final exhibition of the year.
Val and Alec brought their wonderful grandson Tai who’s studying to be a mental health professional. Thank goodness for Tai and people like him. V&A are justly proud.
In the conservatory it was gorgeous dog day. One came in a full purple onesie. With legs and everything. Her name is Evie. I wish I’d taken a photo.
A few other regulars popped in for their final visit of the season. It’s so dimly lit in the main room at the moment that we could barely see them. Must buy replacement bulbs for next year.
In home news our underfloor heating in the bathroom has been fixed. Last week it was freeeeeezing in there. Now it’s like walking across hot coals. A temperature adjustment is needed but not exactly easy to pull off.
If only I could wangle some time off to get it sorted.

And may I say, not in a shy way...

We have a range of sandwich fillings, panini fillings and jacket potato fillings.

It’s understandable that some people look at one list and want it to fill something else.

“Can I have a Brie and pear panini?” a lady asked this week. I said she could if she’d like but did she really want warm pear? She screwed up her nose, “Ooh no, thank you” she said. She had the sandwich.

Then today someone asked for a coronation chicken panini. We talked them out of that one too.

Finishing line

Four days before we close for winter and today the oven went on strike.
This made the day slightly tricky. We weren’t able to cook a ham, make more soup, cook bacon or bake scones.
We improvised.
We have run out of Worcester Blue cheese but I won’t be ordering more this close to the end of the season and we have plenty of cheddar and quiche.
The hob came back into use half way through the afternoon, thanks to Adrian’s ingenuity, and tomorrow morning we’ll be playing catch-up. We’ll cook our final 2018 ham and make soup with the last pumpkin (witches brew again).
People will wave as they leave and wish us happy Christmas.
I shall make the most of having a latte whenever I choose (that’s what I miss during the five month closure) and will listen and make notes while members of the team suggest things for next season, mainly things I need to buy/arrange/fix.
Like the oven.
And the dishwasher.

What a sight.

The penultimate weekend of the 2018 season and we were visited by 16 fabulous old cars.
Most of them were Riley models.
It was a pretty cold day which included rain and hail and they didn’t look like the sort of vehicles to have heated seats.

The owners came for bacon rolls and coffee ahead of a car treasure hunt around the local roads. They were due back by 2.30. Late arrivals incurred penalty points.
Most of them arrived after the deadline. Some long after.
They all looked pretty cold...

Today was brighter and sunnier. There was a wedding in the church and just before the ceremony a group of well dressed guests came for sustenance and to use the loo.
I had quite a shock when I saw a man relieving himself.
Did he perhaps not notice that our toilets actually have doors?

Shocking

Alf arrived this week with roses. It’s his last visit of the season, he says, and wanted to bring me something. Alf is in his late eighties and drinks black americanos without sugar. Last year his wife Margaret died. He talks about her every time he visits. He once told me she had a little glass bell next to her bed. “She’d ring it when she was ready for me”, he said with a twinkle in his eye.
I put the flowers in a vase on the counter, tell him how pretty they are and ask him what colour he would call them?
He thinks for a moment.
“Shocking pink,” he says with a firm nod, “Margaret had some underwear that colour”.
And there’s the twinkle again.

End of the season. Ish.

This is a quiet week.
Autumn rain and winds do not help us and we’re in that awful period of wasting food.
We try to eat it ourselves at lunchtime but sometimes there’s just too much.
Anyone who’s working is offered bread or scones or even cake to take home.
George is taking quiche to work.
We regularly cancel milk and cream orders and are working through our last ice cream delivery of the season. Slowly.

Storm in a teacup

Home early after a day of rain. The Court closed at around 3.30 because of the threat of high winds. It made me even more thankful that we’ve decided to close for the winter months.
A quiet day (though not as quiet as feared) meant we were able to prepare for tomorrow’s 70th birthday lunch, make red onion marmalade and tiffin, cook a ham, make soup and rearrange the gift display.

Forgiven

A bright, warm, sunny and hot autumn day.
The hottest October day in years according to the news.
We were particularly busy with people who like quiche.
And with people who wanted to sit in the garden.
And with people who chose to comment on what I looked like.
Two separate individuals told me I looked hot. Not the good hot. The warm hot.
In other words my red cheeks were even rosier than usual.
Then one lady told me she liked my dress, then added: “it looks very forgiving”.
So very nearly a compliment.

Needs must

Celeriac and Quince make a wonderful soup.
More will be made tomorrow.
When we mention the quince an eyebrow is usually raised which means I have to tell them about our glut.
We had roast chicken on Sunday which usually involves pushing an onion or a lemon into the cavity. This week it was a quince.

Fake news

Today was fib-to-your-children day.
I took a coffee and a piece of fruit cake to a man with a very young son. He would have been no more than 3, I reckon.
As I put the cake on the table dad said to his little boy, “Look at that big piece of chocolate cake.”
I opened my mouth to correct him and he winked at me.
Making me a full accomplice in the untruth.

Later in the afternoon I overheard a conversation at the till.
A mother was saying to Olivia (who was serving), “Ah, so you only sell ice cream in the summer?” She said it in a very deliberate way, quite loudly and slowly. Olivia has only worked with us for a short time and I sidled up to her to tell her that we do indeed have plenty of ice cream.
Olivia gave me a meaningful look.
I backed off.
The mother then explained to her young daughter that she couldn’t have ice cream because we didn’t have any. She too had used a wink to involve Olivia in the deception.
Brazen. Bare faced.
Clever.

Like Father Like Will

Yesterday was lookalike day.
A couple sitting in the main room told me I looked just like their friend, Diana. Not only do I look like her but I walk like her and have the same mannerisms. I asked if she was nice? Ooh yes, they said.
Then an American couple told Will he reminded them of “Father Jonathan from Fox News”. We had to look him up.
Here he is:

And here’s Will:

A veritable doppelgänger.

A Star is Born

 A glorious autumn day. Sunny but chilly. Just how I like it at this time of year.
We were busy enough but not overrun which gave me a chance to chat to a few people and, most unusually, to eat lunch at lunchtime.

The quince soup (it has so many vegetables in it we can’t list them all) is tangy and rather delicious.
Tomorrow I shall introduce celeriac to quince and see what sort of marriage that makes.

Quincy Mystery

Today is the day.
The first day of using quince in soup (the crumble was a winner).
Bev has made it using butternut squash, sweet potatoes and, obviously, quince, but when we tasted it we all thought it a bit odd, a bit too sweet. Dan suggested we serve it as a cake sauce.
Ten minutes later Bev had worked magic with a little cumin.
It’s a glorious colour and tastes delicious though next time we won’t go so quince-heavy.
I shall be having it for my lunch today.

Quince

Autumn has most definitely arrived.
Strong winds, rain and grey skies are the order of the day and we’ve been so quiet that we closed at 3pm.
George’s quince tree has borne proper fruit (and the wind has brought them down).
Two large boxes of quince are now tripping people up in the kitchen and there’s only so much membrillo a man can eat so I’ve been looking for soup recipes.
And found lots.

Shortly to be found on the Tearooms menu may be Butternut Squash and Quince Soup, Parsnip and Quince Soup, Celeriac and Quince Soup, Quince and Quince Soup.
Tonight I’m going to attempt a Quince Crumble.
I think Quince Quiche would be too much of a mouthful.

Lost list

Half way through September.
The weather is unpredictable.
The customer numbers are unpredictable.
The ordering is unpredictable.
What is predictable is that someone will leave something with us when they leave.
We have umbrellas, cardigans, jackets, hats.
We also do a good line in lost drinks bottles. Here is a small selection:

Please release me.

I mentioned the teapot/mini bowl problem on Facebook and several friends came up with suggestions of how to get the two bloody things apart.
WD40 was popular. Swarfega. Ice and hot water. Body lotion. Cooking oil.
Louise asked if there would be a prize if she could separate them (she was on the rota for today) and I lied and said yes.
This afternoon, after the lunchtime rush (and it was a rush. Three large groups, only two of which had booked) I removed it from the fridge and handed it to Louise. She looked at it, turned it around for a while, and then when I wasn’t looking she took a large knife and gave the little bowl a sharp blow.
Out it flew.
Without breaking.
“It was risky,” she said, “but it worked.”

Stuck fast

A dip in temperature.
The sun disappears.
The customer numbers drop.
We had a lovely day today with waves of busy-ness: a lunch wave followed by a large group of walkers who all wanted tea and cake.
It’s still just warm enough to sell a lot of salads (which is exactly what happened today) but tomorrow jacket potatoes will be back on the menu. We removed them back in May when the temperature in the kitchen threatened to melt us.
Our only problem today?
What to do about this:

To heat or to cool, that is the question.

The summer’s scone.

I thought it might be quiet today. If not quiet then certainly not busy.
It’s the last weekend of the school holiday and there are school shoes and ties and shirts and PE kits to buy, pencil cases to sort and new bags to pack.
I was wrong.
Perhaps those things have already been done. Perhaps there are a couple of days left in the week to do them.
Which meant that today tables filled up, emptied and filled again.
The weather was fine and dry.
We needed every one of our nine staff.
Please, self, remember this for next year.

There’s something about Mary.

Yesterday a woman returned to the counter to say how much she’d enjoyed her lemon drizzle cake.
I thanked her and told her it was Mary Berry’s traybake recipe.
She frowned: “I don’t like her,” she said.
The lady buying a pair of earrings at the time looked as surprised as I did. Another who was sitting nearby raised her eyebrows. I told her I’d never met anyone who doesn’t like “queen” Mary.
“I’m more of a Marguerite Patten girl,” she added, “but I suppose that’s showing my age.”

Mystery

A few years ago one of the artists who’d had an exhibition in the tearoom gave me a picture. It was a framed photograph he’d taken of a poppy and I’d admired it when he first brought it in.

It’s been on the wall in the ladies’ loos ever since. It’s a large, bright, happy thing and makes me smile.

Or rather it did.

On Tuesday Meg noticed it was missing.

Presumably now it’s hanging on another hook making someone else smile.

Grrrr

Smart phone warehouse

August has been a blur hence the infrequent posts.
Most of it has been a warm blur, not as hot as May, June and July, but good enough for us to be busy every day. Every day except one. Last Sunday. It was the Bank Holiday weekend so I had asked a lot of people to work.
We all stood around watching the rain.
Then we went home.
Normal service was resumed on Bank Hol Monday.
Most of the team members put their phones all together on one side of the kitchen. There are usually two, maybe three. This was Monday:

And I took the photo with mine.

On your marks

When I wake in the morning my first task is to work out which day it is.
With summer holidays and continuing dry weather (thought the temperature has dropped a few degrees) all the days are remarkably similar at the moment.
We are rushing headlong into the big bank holiday weekend. I’m restocking the ice cream freezer tomorrow and cases of soft drinks arrived today (local apple juice coming on Friday). We’re cooking a ham every day and the bread order just gets bigger and bigger.
Today, for the first time in months, we cooked jacket potatoes after a special request was phoned in yesterday. That made the kitchen an even hotter place to work. Add in the hour it takes to stir the red onion marmalade pan and my face got redder and redder.
Or it could have been made red by the child who put hand prints all over the cake display fridge. He pointed to every cake and wiped his fingers across the glass as if joining the dots. When he pressed his lips against it I must have turned purple.

Conundrum

An order on a busy day which bamboozled us.  If a customer wants their coffee black then we top it right up and don’t leave enough room for milk. But this person apparently didn’t want milk but didn’t want it black either. Hmm.
We had to wait until Meg had finished taking a few more orders before we could get to the bottom of it.
Turns out he’d already had one Americano and wanted a second but still had enough milk to satisfy his needs. Simple when you know the whole story.

🌞

All but two of the outside tables have been moved to the shade under the trees.
Occasionally someone will move a chair half into the sun but even after weeks and weeks of acclimatising it is very hot for all.
Lovely to sit in, lovely to drink tea and eat lunch in, not so great to work in.
The many fans aren’t doing a lot, just moving the hot air around. We’re having to cook a ham every day so the oven is in use.
Just to make it clear, I am not complaining.
The headaches brought by a hot summer are nothing compared to those of a rainy one.

Norwegians Would

Last year a Norwegian family came on holiday and stayed at Pool House, an English Heritage property to let in the grounds of Witley Court. On their return home they sent us a message. Could they please have the recipe for one of our cakes to which they’d taken a particular liking? We call it Anna’s Favourite (Millionaires Shortbread) and that’s how they described it. 

We sent them the recipe and they made it for their daughter’s birthday. 

This week they came back for their now annual holiday. In the week they were here they visited the tearooms at least three times. They are really lovely. On their last day they presented me with these as a thank you for the recipe:

I can now say several things in Norwegian. 

I can say “extra large bag” (ekstra stor pose)

I can say “teddy bear marshmallows” (skumbamser)

I can say “covered” (dekket)
And I can say milk chocolate (melkesjokolade).
Practically fluent.

Too much information.

They ordered lunch at the counter. An older couple. It was his birthday, his wife told me. They went to sit in the conservatory.
When we brought their meal she was sitting at the table on her own.
I met him as he came back from the loo and told him his lunch had just been delivered.
“And I’ve just made room for it,” he said.

A bumpy ride

Yesterday I had a call from Martin, a coach driver looking for a coffee stop for a group this morning.
I warned him about the track, he was up for trying it and this morning I talked him in as he drove from a nearby village. He said he’d never have found us otherwise.
He brought the dewdrop lunch club who ordered coffees and teas and sat for an hour before making their way back to the coach and setting off for their lunch in nearby Lower Broadheath.
A busy lunchtime followed. The slight drop in temperature (to 22 degrees, not exactly cool) and a few threatening clouds meant a run on panini.
I found a couple in the garden a) smoking and b) drinking their own coffee from a thermos flask. She’d even brought her own mug.

It was also the day for High Teas.
One lady had given her mother our vouchers for Christmas. They sat in the garden and had their sandwiches, cakes, scones and tea. I wished them a Merry Christmas as they tucked in.
Then 25 Bridgend Retired Teachers arrived on a coach for their prearranged cream tea. They sat in the garden under the trees. The good weather had returned.
As they were leaving another group arrived.
Another coach.
This time from Stratford.
This time unexpected.
We coped.
They ate us out of scones and made a dent in the cakes.

Three coach parties on one day. Must be a record?

There are worse things I could do

They were called “Fifties World” and booked cream teas for twenty members a few weeks ago.
They were coming on a coach from Solihull.
I had no idea what to expect. Would they be ladies and gents in their fifties. In other words, my age? Or would they arrive dressed in 1950s garb? Would we have James Dean lookalikes and big skirted girls. Would it be like Grease?
Turned out they had been in their fifties when they met years ago. Now they were mostly in their seventies but hated the idea of changing the name of the group. “I wouldn’t tell anyone I was in Seventies World” one lady told me.

Meanwhile my older son, who likes a practical joke, told me he would give me his tips if I performed a task. I must ask the next person who ordered tea at the counter to show me ID and if they couldn’t provide it I was to refuse to serve them.
I thought about it. And agreed.
A few minutes later an older man came in and asked me for two teas. Could I see some ID, please?
(All the staff were gathered just out of sight)
The gentleman told me he didn’t have any ID.
I said I was sorry but I couldn’t serve him.
He said it was ridiculous. He only wanted two teas. He asked me why he needed ID?
I kept telling him I was sorry.
He told me that trip advisor would be hearing all about it.
I told him I was sorry but that’s the way it had to be.
My son was looking at me, appalled, shocked, open-mouthed that I was going so far, too far. (A challenge is a challenge, right?).
The man walked out.
And rejoined the Fifties World group.
His performance had been Oscar worthy. My son, now aware that his mother had set him up, went to shake his hand to congratulate him.

If you don’t know me by now

A twenty-strong lunch club from Stretton Sugwas came on Wednesday for our ham and quiche salads.
I was offering them tea or coffee as they finished eating.
“I do like tea,” said a gentleman at the end of the table, “but on this occasion I’d like coffee.” Then he added, “my wife will also have coffee,” and he gestured to a lady seated a couple of places away.
She told him that, actually, she would like tea.
He looked surprised.
“You don’t know her at all, do you?” I joked, “how long have you been married?”
“Sixty two years,” he said.
It must take sixty three.

Trip the light fantastic

I counted my chickens way too early.
The spider web was actually a red herring.
It was not the cause of the electrical problems which returned with a vengeance in the middle of a very busy Sunday lunchtime. This time we couldn’t get much to work at all. We offered filter coffee, tea, cold drinks, sandwiches and salads. Oh and ice cream, although I was very precious about the length of time anyone left the ice cream freezer lid open.
At the end of a difficult day Adrian managed to get the fridges and freezers back on.
We went in this morning wondering what on earth was going to happen.
It didn’t take us long to find out.
Trips galore.
Once again we were facing no coffee machine, no water boiler, no dishwashers, no fridges and no till or card machine.
Once again people were very understanding.
Once again we called Lee who told me he’d find the problem.
He was like a superhero. Using superhero language. He actually said that he’d never been beaten before and wasn’t about to be beaten now.
While he was working, walking from room to room, taking covers off things and drinking his tea with multiple sugars the electrics would occasionally trip. I’d wince. He’d smile, “that’s good,” he said, “that’s what it should have done.” He tracked it eventually to the light fitting in the conservatory - a light fitting we don’t even use.
He is confident it’s now sorted. This makes me confident.
Still I’ll be crossing my fingers tomorrow.

Best china

Friday dawned with no electricity problems. It was like it hadn’t happened.
Lee’s best guess was that a spider web in the fuse box had acted as a conductor. It can do that apparently when there’s condensation around. Who knew?
Our annual booking from a school in China brought 42 children and 6 teachers for tea, sandwiches and scones. They almost ate us out of ice cream. One of them also bought a dog collar from our gift display.
They took up all of the larger tables in the garden for an hour. Then they were gone. Off to the Safari Park. I should have called ahead to warn them to fill up their ice cream freezers.

Power mad

The heat continues.
Unabated.
Being in the kitchen is hard work.
Toasting a teacake in front of the grill is hard work.
Being anywhere near the panini machine, the coffee machine, the water boilers is hard work.
Carrying a tray out to the tables under the trees in the shade is wonderful. If there’s an extra chair it’s hard to stop myself sitting down.
Today was made even harder when the electricity started playing up.
Trip.
Trip.
Trip.
Eventually we plumped for keeping on the freezers and one fridge at the expense of everything else.
Which meant no till, no coffee machine, no hot water boiler, no card machine, no dishwashers.
Water was boiled on the gas stove, we made sandwiches and salads for lunches, washed everything by hand and kept fridge opening to a minimum.
We closed an hour early and Adrian and Lee tried to find the source of the trip.
Did they? Didn’t they?
Really, like all the best cliffhangers, I don’t know.
I doubt that my sleep tonight will be undisturbed.
No idea what I’ll find when I go in tomorrow.

Eins zwei drei

We appear to be living through a heatwave. This may be the summer. It’s hard to tell how long it will last but it’s been with us a while and looking at the photos of the Tearooms in the snow makes me feel very odd. Surely it can’t have been that cold.
On Sunday we had our celebrity visitor for the year (we’re lucky if we get one. I was unlucky not to be there to see him in the flesh.)
Mark Williams came for a cup of tea and was manhandled to the visitors’ book.

Today a coach of Austrian tourists took us by surprise. They were lovely and their English was as limited as my German. Our system of giving each person a numbered wooden spoon to identify them was in disarray. Every time we went out and shouted a number they all waved their spoon at us. Until I resorted to shouting the numbers in German.
They sat at the tables we’d reserved for Shrawley Horticultural Society’s cream teas but left just in time.
A man at the top of the garden called me over to ask if I knew the name of a particular plant? He pointed to it. I told him I had very poor knowledge but wasn’t it a yucca? No, he told me, yuccas are smaller. I suggested I go to ask the aforementioned Horticultural Society members who by now had eaten their way through their 22 scones. One of them went over to answer his question and he seemed satisfied.
A little later I asked what the plant was.
“It’s a yucca” said John.
I should have said it with more confidence.

Not on the menu, Heston.

This made us smile:

Sweet

I took a tea and a coffee order to a table in the conservatory and offered the couple a choice of brown and white sugar, as usual.
The gentleman had the coffee.
“White sugar, please,” he said, “the brown stuff is far too healthy”

Mightier than the sword

It’s lovely when people take the trouble to write in the visitors’ book. 

Although when I see anyone hunched over it with a pen it makes me nervous after once a lady wrote that I should stay behind the scenes and let the younger members of the team do the serving.

These entries came from half term week:

Today the schools went back and we returned to a more relaxed lunchtime. The calm before the summer holiday storm?

Untapped talent

The hot, muggy weather has continued into the last weekend of half term.
This afternoon I was clearing a table. Left on it was a full and unopened bottle of still water. The lady at the next table had spotted it:
“Excuse me,” she said, “would you mind if I have that water for my dog? He won’t drink from the bowl.” I told her she had a very posh pooch (no, she said, just fussy) and handed her the water, then watched as she held the bottle to the mouth of the dog - a sausage sort of variety.
The dog drank.
From the bottle.

Sore eyes

May
Mad May.
Two Bank Holidays.
Three weeks of sunshine and heat. One week of thunder, showers and half term.
One day in the middle of it all where we held a lunch in the garden for twenty nine of the Shrewsbury Wives Fellowship and when they left their seats we filled them with twenty nine former teachers from Walsall.
We’ve lost a few chairs (the old plastic ones won’t last much longer).
We’ve gained a bike (left outside the door and no one’s come back for it).
We’ve also taken delivery of Jim’s bench.
I’ve written about Jim a few times, the last time on 17th October last year.
We thought long and hard about what his bench should say and this is what we came up with:

It sits in the garden facing towards the door and is visible from the counter. It gives me a lift just like he always could.

A good marriage

Yesterday I made Lemon and Elderflower Drizzle cake.
I had made an elderflower cake last year, using a single lemon.
It was fine but not great. The elderflower was barely there and there wasn’t enough lemon.
So I tried again, raised the number of lemons, added homemade elderflower cordial into the mix and then once it was cooked I skewered a few holes and dripped more cordial into the cake before adding the drizzle topping.
Much better.
A real relief.
I rang Emma (21) who was due into work in an hour. I had forgotten to make a sign for it. Could she knock something up, please?
This is what she arrived with:

 

Such a talent.
The sign did its job and this morning I’m going in to bake more.
I doubt Harry and Meghan’s cake looks like mine, which is an unadorned traybake, but it’s certainly a good combination now I’ve sorted the balance.

Seasoned

Today Brian came in for his lunch.

He’s a regular visitor, one of the men who visits on his own. He’s been coming a few years now and recently we’ve started to chat a little more.

Today he brought me a gift.

A thoughtful, local gift from one of the other places he visits.

I just hope it’s not a comment on my cooking.

More Venus and Mars

This morning we hosted a hen party.
A high tea for thirteen young women.
They had booked six weeks ago, were all staying in a rented house nearby, brought fizz for us to chill the day before and then an hour before the event they brought decorations, balloons and signs. They hung paper lanterns from the ceiling and lit candles.
The table looked gorgeous.
The ladies looked gorgeous.
The bride wore a sash.
They sat and chatted outside after their high tea and then went on to their next venue where they were going sailing for the afternoon.

As they were mid-tea a dozen men in their twenties and thirties walked in.
A stag group.
We’d never hosted any element of a stag party before. We didn’t know they were coming. We’re not usually the sort of venue associated with such things.
They had been quad biking locally for the morning and each ordered individually. A few cream teas, a few coffees, one panini. They sat outside having pulled a few tables together.

Perhaps they’ll all meet up in a Worcester nightclub later this evening?

Flash, bang, wallop.

“Are you the lady on the radio?” he said.
He was part of a pensioner group from Evesham.
Forty cream teas in the conservatory.
Most of them liked LOTS of cream.
I presumed he was talking about my lemon drizzle chat on local BBC last week so I nodded a “that’s me.”
He picked up a camera from the table in front of him and took my photograph.
An hour later, as they were leaving, he asked me if I minded that he’d taken the photo; said he should have asked; said he’d send me a copy.
He told me that once he was walking in a street and John Bercow was coming towards him. He stuck out his hand and said, “Hello John, mind if I take a photograph of you with my wife?”. Mr Bercow didn’t mind.
Then another time he met Jane Garvey and asked her if he could take her photo.
She told him he could, for a fiver.
“But then she didn’t charge me,” he said.

Cream crackered

That was intense.
The forecast was correct.
Three weeks until the next Bank Holiday.
Will we do more than the 110 cream teas of today?

Making hay

So when I said that the ice cream freezer was bulging I was clearly wrong.
This morning, aware I had a fair amount but that it would probably not be an adequate supply for Monday, I sent a text to the ice cream dairy, Bennetts, begging for supplies.
They don’t open on a Sunday but within a couple of hours Chris had sent out nine boxes, each containing 18 tubs.
I filled the display freezer again and put the rest in the big freezer ready for tomorrow.
Then I got them out and again refilled the display freezer.
By the end of the day I had done this another twice.
*Sigh*
Fortunately Chris has taken pity.
Another 12 boxes will arrive by midday tomorrow in readiness for what is forecast to be the hottest Bank Holiday Monday on record.

Lazy

It looks like we might, finally, have a decent weekend. A bank holiday one at that.
The drinks fridge is full.
The ice cream freezer is bulging.
I am going to have to make lemon drizzle cakes for the weekend as BBC Hereford and Worcester rang this morning to ask me to comment on a poll which puts it top of a favourites list. We have known this for quite a while.
If I were a proper business person I would have ensured that we always have lemon drizzle on offer but since I make it and I have to get up earlier and sort my day out differently for that to happen it rather goes by the wayside.
I really need to give myself a kick.

The shape of things to come

Over the years we have seen enquiries and requests change.
When I started we were rarely asked for gluten-free cake and never for dairy-free. Now it’s a daily occurrence.
Vegans only started tentatively asking when they saw the words “dairy-free” appear on the menu. Now there seem to be more of them. They’re certainly more confident.
We have responded to most requests as they become more obvious.
We have never been asked if we have WiFi.
Until today.
Today we were asked twice.
I have suggested that, given that we’re a rural, traditional tearoom we should respond by asking “what’s that?”.
We have 4G. For how long will that be enough?

All sorts

People. It’s all about the people.
Today we had a family of vegans who were so excited to have a choice of cake. One of them ordered an earl grey tea. Did she want any soya milk? No, she said, she took it weak and black. “Like my soul,” she smiled.
Last week an older lady visited as part of a coach party.
She was dressed from head to toe in blue. All sorts of blue. Fifty shades. There were blue things in her hair, there were blue brooches and badges on her blue tweed jacket. She was wearing a blue tie on a blue shirt over a blue skirt, with blue tights and bright blue shoes.
I complimented her look when she returned to the counter for cake. Her hand floated down from shoulder to hip: “everything is from charity shops and” she took a step back and pointed at her shoes, “if the shoes are the wrong colour I just paint them.” I asked how she painted them, is there such a thing as shoe paint? No, she said, she uses regular paint.
Aren’t other people just great?

Monochrome

Now it’s hot. Proper sit-out-in-the-sunshine-wearing-sun-cream hot. 

In the kitchen we’re tired of it already. 

And it’s not even summer.

My favourite customer today was an older gentleman who came to the counter and asked me for “a black and white coffee”. 

It took me a moment to realise he was ordering for two.

On your marks

The sun came out on Saturday.
So people came out on Saturday. In huge numbers.
They staggered, shielding their eyes, wondering what that great globe of light in the sky could possibly be. They wanted the sort of things which mean the winter is over - cream teas, ice cream, cold drinks. They wanted to sit in the garden.
By the end of Saturday I had a headache which lasted into Sunday. I had not endured the burst of warmth.  I had failed to drink any drinks let alone cold ones. I have learned a valuable lesson.
On Wednesday this week the forecasters are promising temperatures in the twenties. The fans are already uncovered and ready to go. The ice cream freezer and drinks fridge are full.
It feels like we’re starting the season all over again.

Say it with flowers

Left on a table for us this afternoon by two little girls.

Caked in Mud

Today was the last day of the Easter holidays.
A pretty awful Easter holidays if you’re judging it on weather and business. Which I am.
We haven’t had such a poor start to the season since 2012 when we had rain, rain and more rain.
A few hardy souls sat outside today, dodging the showers.
One of our regular customers asked if we’d be providing mud skis for those wanting to reach us.
Next week, once the schools go back, we’re promised Costa del temperatures but I reckon some of our recent visitors will be grateful for the end of the holidays for a different reason.
This past two weeks we have had a lot of grandparents bringing their grandchildren for a day out, clearly helping out with child care.
They’re fairly easy to spot. They look slightly frazzled and lean wearily on the counter. They try to discourage fizzy drinks (mummy said you weren’t to have lemonade) but give in when facing a barrage of “but that’s not lemonade”/“but she lets us have 7up”/“it’s not fair”. They fork out for ice cream and chocolate cake having at least attempted to give them a healthy lunch.
One couple made the most of the few minutes of peace while their grandchildren disappeared into the loos. They looked at their watches and counted the hours left of their duty.
A grandad today asked me if I had anything with Valium in it.

The last customers this afternoon were a Belgian family whose son is studying at Worcester University.
They ordered tea, cappuccino, scones and a hot chocolate.
Their English was faultless.
I asked what language they speak at home? German? French? No, they speak Flemish. I asked them to teach me how to say Thank You in their mother tongue.
It’s pretty straightforward. No idea how to write it but it’s pronounced “Dankoo”.

Comic relief

A mildly humorous cherry tomato. What’s not to like?

A bit on the side

Not the best Easter we’ve ever had.
Sunday was ok. We were at least busy enough for part of the day to feel like we were in a BH weekend. Friday came second in the busy stakes with Saturday and Monday vying for slowest.
Several people said how lovely it is that we’re open again.
Proving that the winter-opening message did not get through to all.
If we’re going to do it again (and some are asking already) then better promotion has to be key.

In other news, we have changed the salad garnish on the sandwiches and panini plates. Over the winter we had used cucumber and carrot sticks (instead of a little gem basket of tomato and cucumber) which seemed to go down well as very little came back. We stuck with it for the first few days of the main season but somehow, now we’re back to more normal hours, it doesn’t feel right. Today we added a few salad leaves instead. Much prettier, less childlike. It’s a work-in-progress..

A very happy, busy birthday to all

Yesterday was high tea party day.

The first was a group of ladies celebrating a 27th birthday as a surprise.

They brought balloons and special napkins before going to pick up the birthday girl.

Next up a 60th birthday celebration for 11 guests.

Then a 50th party for ten people.

“Who’s the birthday girl?” I asked as we carried through the sandwiches, scones and cakes.

“Birthday BOY,” came the chorus.

We made sure the cakes were right in front of him. 

Defrost mode

Season Nine of the saga that is The Garden Tea Rooms starts tomorrow. Cast members remain the same for the most part. A few cameos from past stars are hoped for. A few new names will be introduced.
I wonder what effect the winter opening will have on our feelings about the summer. Throughout November - March we’ve been multi-layered in vests, roll necks, jumpers and cardigans. We’ve sat by the fire with a coffee or huddled around the oven while the scones and jacket potatoes cook.
In the summer we can’t wait to turn the oven off.
The first thing we do is open all the windows and turn on the fans.
Putting on the layer of an apron is undesirable.
This evening, with more snow forecast for the Easter weekend (it won’t happen, surely) the idea of being warm enough to shed the cardi seems remote. Summer is a long way off.

чай

I sent a text to Nancie this morning telling her not to attempt to make the journey to work.
This afternoon she rang to tell me that she’d been thinking about it and that she thinks Putin is to blame for this weather. And that, in retaliation, we should get a tearoom in Russia closed for the day.

Get a grip

Yup. Snow.
Snow and freezing temperatures.
Accentuating the positive at least it didn’t snow on Mothering Sunday.

Time Marches On

Over the past few days I’ve been working on the Easter rotas.
It’s two weeks away but it’s never too early to look ahead to a bank holiday weekend and convince people they really really really want to work.
Easter starts in late March this year.
We are currently in mid March and there’s more snow forecast for this weekend.
That would be the fourth snowfall of the winter.
Enough now. Thank you.

The mother of all Sundays

If ever I forget, remind me to open on Mothering Sunday every year.
We were wonderfully busy. It reminded us of a summer day in every way except the weather.
The conservatory tables were all reserved (new table coverings- dotty smoke) for those who’d booked the special Afternoon Tea - 36 in total.

We decided we wouldn’t take any other reservations. Space is more limited over the winter months and after a flurry of phone calls over the past week we could have reserved every last table in the main room but then disappointed regulars or those just coming on the off chance of a cuppa.
The special afternoon teas were served between 1.30 and 2.30.
Tea, a glass of elderflower presse (or ginger beer or raspberry lemonade), finger sandwiches, red onion and Stilton tartlets, then scones with jam and cream, lemon drizzle cake, tiffin, carrot cake, chocolate mousse and lime cheesecake. The cheesecake recipe called for the zest of three limes. I used five. I like citrus flavours to be good and strong. The chocolate mousse trial during the week had gone disastrously wrong but I changed to Charlotte’s granny’s recipe and it saved the day.
My feet hurt by the end of yesterday.
A good sign.
And the shape of things to come.

Snow business

This is the winter I choose to stay open.
The one with three big, proper deluges of snow. One in December, one in January and one just as I started to see light at the end of the tunnel, as February met March.
The one with a storm called Emma which hit from one angle as the beast from the east came in from another. Days of freezing temperatures when we either couldn’t or wouldn’t open.
We’ll reopen on Wednesday.
We’ll light the fire.
We’ll hope the pipes haven’t burst.
We’ll hope the roof hasn’t leaked.
We’ll prepare for our first Mothering Sunday.
Come on, Spring. We’re waiting.

Out of this world

It’s certainly been worth opening for February half term. It’s very cold but the weather has stayed dry so families, grandparents, dogs have all ventured out. A hot chocolate at the end of a walk has been very welcome. We now add cream and marshmallows if desired - we’ve called it a Witley Works.
Yesterday a man approached the counter.
“Could we have a couple of coffees for outside?” he asked, “we’ve got a dog.”
I told him he could bring the dog inside as long as it was on a lead. Out of the cold.
He skipped back to tell his partner and they sat near the window having ordered a cappuccino and a chamomile tea.
I took the drinks to their table. To be honest I wasn’t terribly proud of the froth on the coffee. It was pitiful. But when I put it down in front of him I had a response I’ve never had before.
“Cosmic,” he said.
I pointed out he hadn’t tasted it yet.

Nine day wonder

Today the local schools break up for February half term while most of the rest of the country is finishing. We’ve never been open for this holiday before so obviously we have no clue how it’s going to be.
It feels like my first season all over again.
The weather is promising.
The Court is open every day.
The church is open every day.
We’re open every day.
We have drafted in a few members of the main season staff to help us out.
The cake makers have been limbering up for tomorrow.
We’ve ordered more milk and more bread.
Will February deliver and make the whole winter experiment a success?

Contrite

Apologies to Val and Alec.
They turned up in the snow on that Sunday morning to find the gate closed. While they were wondering if we were going to open three other cars of potential customers turned up to wonder the same thing.
Honestly, you couldn’t make it up.
We’ve all decided what we need is a WhatsApp group of regular customers to keep everyone informed.

Party time

Wednesday, Wednesday, Wednesday. What are we to do with you?
Another poor weather day. The forecasters said it would be mild but the wind scuppered that idea.
Bev and Annie decided to continue the kitchen deep-clean.
I arrived having had a text from the church warden; someone bringing a group to see the church would be contacting me with a reservation for May.
Annie had already spoken to one caller booking in for 30-50 teas.
In May.
It was the same date (a random Tuesday). And the same time (2pm in the church and crypt, 3pm to us)
Was it the same party?
Nope.
Cue multiple phone calls and a rearrangement of the DB Chatterboxers to the following Tuesday.
The phone rang again. Could we take a group booking for 1st September? Then an email. Could we do a celebratory family lunch in April? I went home (to avoid the deep clean and answer the email). When I rang to check the diary Annie said she’d taken another group booking for late July.

A young monarch?

This made me smile.

Cold crossed fingers

I woke yesterday to snow and a question from Annie via text: did I really want her to open?

I hate those kind of decisions so I rang her. 

In the back of my mind was a phone call I’d taken from a lady the afternoon before. Would we be open on Sunday? She was part of a walking group and just wanted to check. She doubted the walk would go ahead as such heavy rain was forecast. We didn’t know about the snow at that stage so I told her we’d be open. 

Annie suggested that we wait to see whether the Court opened and then change the answer message on the phone, in case the walker-lady rang again. The Court was closed. The warden also decided not to open the church. So we followed suit.

I really, really hope the walkers didn’t venture out. 

Parenting at its best

Would today be the day of no customers? It looked like it. For a long time. 

Then, this afternoon, a little blonde girl called Charlotte arrived. Turns out that today is Charlotte’s fourth birthday and she was given a tea set as a present. So her dad offered to take her out to tea. 

This makes me content and hopeful.

When almost everything seems to be changing the future of tea feels somehow more secure now I know that Charlotte’s dad is around.

Winter Fuel

Wednesdays are not covering themselves in glory. For the second week in a row we saw very few customers and were sort of grateful when the volunteer church steward came in for his free coffee. It gave us something to do. Thank goodness for busy weekends. So far on that score January is proving much better than December.

The logburner is causing a few headaches as the logs we’re using look dry but just aren’t. Which means I may have to buy another net from the local farm shop. 

Today is bright and sunny but there are branches and twigs everywhere - the result of a very windy night. Perhaps we should gather them up, like the poor man in the carol.

Back to Work

Mitchell, a young man from Dudley who drinks coffee (splash of milk, one sugar), has fixed the dishwasher this morning. A poorly fitted part meant the order to WASH wasn’t reaching the brain (ie the start button was broken). Mitchell has also given me cause to reflect on my hasty condemnation of it as lazier than our older model.
It really isn’t to blame.
Turns out that, as it’s only on a 13amp plug, it was hamstrung from the start. It could never heat up at the same speed. The other one has more than double the power.
I was right to give the younger sibling a break.

Bev and Annie are formulating a plan for Mothering Sunday afternoon teas. When, with luck, it’ll be a bit warmer. Bev made the scones in her coat this morning and then reluctantly turned off the oven. Annie kept her scarf on when making drinks and teacakes for the first customers, the three (cold) builders who are back working at the Court after the Christmas break.
We were so pleased to see them.
Yesterday’s fog only brought four customers in total, which must be our worst day ever.

Thinking aloud

Winter is proving a tricky little chap.
Summer days are for cream scones, Victoria Sponge, lemon drizzle, apple juice, strawberries.
We know that Winter days demand hot drinks (hot chocolate especially) but what cakes should make the cut?
We have the usual suspects - fruit cake, coffee and walnut, something chocolatey, a sturdy flapjack - but have also tried to introduce new offerings.
With mixed results.
The cranberry topped shortbread is delicious but not popular (except with me and Annie), the ginger florentine isn’t gingery enough for ginger lovers and too gingery for those who aren’t partial. Mince pies have done well enough but surely we can’t serve them in January?
Perhaps we should make a big apple crumble and serve it with custard.
Or perhaps we shouldn’t try to vary the cakes so much and stick to the obvious.

An afterthought about the weekend, which wasn’t warm but was dry.
We sold quite a lot of ice cream.
Children eat ice cream all year round.

All washed up?

On Wednesday 12th April 2017 we took delivery of our not-inexpensive new dishwasher, just ahead of the Easter weekend.
Since then it hasn’t covered itself in glory. It takes longer to heat up than our other one, takes longer to wash stuff than the other one. The only thing it does more quickly is drain. As if it’s anxious to get on with whatever it does in its spare time.
As the youngest sibling myself I am wary of comparisons. I have avoided them until now, anxious to cut the younger model a bit of slack.
My hand has been forced.
Last week it stopped working. Completely refused to wash OR drain.
I’ve just filled out the relevant warranty form to request a repair person.
Meanwhile the older machine keeps plodding on. It never asks for anything (except rinse aid, detergent, water and electricity). It never complains. It just gets on with the job in hand.
I feel I should sing its praises, quickly, before it decides it’s had enough and demands the same attention as the other one.

The Works does the job.

It had to come. I feared it wouldn’t but it did. 

We have just experienced the Hot Chocolate weekend to beat any we’ve known -plain, with marshmallows, or piled high with cream, marshmallows and chocolate sprinkles, (a new venture for us. We call it The Witley Works)  it felt like almost every order had one on it. 

One table ordered five, then came back for a sixth.

We’ll need more marshmallows for Wednesday.

Sunday’s sunshine brought families and couples out in their bobble hats. We sold out of soup (Mediterranean tomato) and had to resort to bloomer bread to make late-ordered sandwiches. 

The milk order looked lean, thanks to all those hot chocolates, but we made it to four o’clock with a couple of pints to spare. 

All is Quiet

We opened yesterday, New Year’s Day.
In my mind it was a day for people to go out for a good long walk to blow away the cobwebs; to take the dogs who’d been cooped up the evening before, for a run.
At the end of which there’d be coffee. Or hot chocolate.  Or a flapjack.
But I was wrong and U2 were right.
A few souls ventured out to Witley Court, but not in great numbers. Among them was a little boy who, once unclipped from his pushchair, climbed out and strode towards the counter.
“What are we here for, Alfie?” asked his mum.
“CAKE,” he answered in a big, clear voice.
And that’s exactly what we served him.
Alfie is the future. And it looks bright.

We spent the rest of the day coming up with resolutions and writing them down so we can look back at them and laugh.