Meet the latest addition to the family


I just went on a short trip dow memory lane and came across this post from when Douggie the doggie landed in our lives. He’ll be four next month. How time flies!

Originally posted on Tripping Over Pebbles No More:

Ok, you’re all dying to know. How did the interview go?

What interview? All that stress for nothing.

There I was all nervous and worked up, worried that they’d take one look at us and announce us to be unfit as dog owners. It was nothing like that.

We got to the lady’s house at exactly the appointed time. She came out to meet us,  directed us to follow her to the kennels, jumped in her car and off we went for a nice fifteen minute jaunt through the countryside to the rescue centre.

“Well, they must be going to interview us there then.”


I must have done a good enough job on the phone as she really seemed to think it was a done deal. No further questions M’lud.

A little white ball of fluff was brought out to meet us. I’d like to say that he was…

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What to do today…..?

If you’ve ever wondered what hoteliers do in the winter when they aren’t doing so much hotely-ing I’m now in a position to tell you.

They eat, drink, drink a bit more and get very, very merry. Often. Almost daily, in fact.

Our lives seems to be a constant flood of invitations to lunches, dinners, quiz nights, intimate soirees and ‘fun’ activity days.

I’ve had to buy a diary just to keep up with them all.

Of course we aren’t attending even half of the things we are invited to. Mostly because we are still enjoying a bit of down time after a busy summer and secondly because it would cost a  king’s ransom to attend everything.

So instead we are whiling away our days by decorating, doing maintenance, keeping everything ship shape and catching up on a bit of telly and generally not running round like headless chickens. More like partially beheaded chickens which don’t run quite as fast.

How lovely it is in the evening to just be able to put our feet up and watch a couple of hours of telly.

Douggie the doggie and I slope off for our daily walk to the beach which  keeps us occupied for another hour or two.  And that, dear reader is that.

At some point I’m sure we will run out of jobs to do and then start to get bored but I wouldn’t put money on it. The general consensus around here is that we have enough in the way of jobs to do to keep us occupied till spring when it all starts again.

The town has a different feel to it. More relaxed and laid back. Now when Douggie and I go for our walks we are met with smiles and conversation as the people we meet realise we are locals and not ‘grockles’.

Moving on. Boofuls and I celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary last week. Thirty years! How did we get here so fast?

Anyway, before I start off down the road of ‘how time flies, it only seems two minutes since we…’

To mark the great occasion we decided to take a week off work. The we decided that might be a bit rash so we decided we’d work the weekend and have four days off. Then we work three of the four days. On the actual day though we took a whole half a day off!

After a bit of “Where shall we go? What shall we do? We decided we’d go up onto Dartmoor to see the ponies and have a ride out to Widecombe which is very quaint and olde worlde.

When we got there it was cold, windy, raining and we were almost out of petrol  – the nearest petrol station being 6 miles away, in the direction we’d just come from!

We walked miserably across the car park with our coats pulled tight around us against the weather and went into the nearest public building which turned out to be a very nice cafe staffed by very, very nice people.  A chat, a cup of coffee and a huge chunk of cake later we were feeling much happier as we set off in search of petrol.

That evening we had planned to go to a very nice restaurant in town. Boofuls phoned up to book to be told they would be closed that night. Sigh.

He phoned the second choice of restaurant. “Can we have a table by the window?  No, Sir, we don’t reserve window seats, it’s first come first served.”


“Ok then. I’ll book a table for two, please.”

We turned up at the appointed time and went to the restaurant upstairs. To our delight there was a window table available.

“Can we have that table by the window?

No, Sir. That table is reserved.

But you told us window tables couldn’t be reserved.

The couple are already here, they are down in the bar.”

We were seated slap bang in the middle of the restaurant. I bloody hate that. But never mind, we were looking forward to a good old slap up meal. As we perused the menu, a couple seated by the window left.

“Can we have that table?

Of course, Sir. I’ll just reset it for you.”

Delighted we sat down at the window table.

“Do you think you could lift the blind so we could see the sea view and the harbour?”

No, Sir, the blind is broken.”

For God’s sake, we might as well have been sitting against a wall. Oh well, at least it wasn’t in the middle of the room.

The food lived up to its reputation. Well. Mine did.

Boofuls, who as normal had ordered medium steak and chips, took delivery of a steak that a good vet could have revived without much difficulty. His face turned a funny colour. “I don’t think I can eat that. Well, send it back then, it’s not what you ordered, is it?”

The steak went back and was quickly replaced by another steak from an anorexic cow that died of old age. Tough and stringy, Boofuls once again looked a funny colour. “I’m not sure I can eat this, it’s all gristle and sinew.

Once again the steak went back. By now Boofuls was well and truly fed up.

“Let me get you another steak, Sir. Oh no. I can’t, we’ve run out of steak.

It’s ok, I’ll just eat the chips. Sigh.

So that was our anniversary. It sounds like it was awful but the reality of it was that we just enjoyed spending some time together and although it wasn’t what we’d planned ( or more accurately, failed to plan). It was still lovely.

Happy anniversary, darling!




Prawn Porn

The pace of life has slowed down a little bit at our holiday emporium on the English Riviera. Now we still roll out of bed at stupid o’clock to cater for our guests but instead of there being two dozen of them we are down to a much more sedate 10-15. I can cater for that lot standing on my head now I’ve had a few months practice.

Now that we have some spare time we’ve been actively creating a social life. Well. We would have been had it not been for Boofuls who seems determined to get back in kind every penny he’s ever paid into the NHS.

Firstly, the saga of the broken leg continues.

Taking himself off to bed for a nap, he awoke sixteen hours later complaining of a pain in his leg. When I say complaining, what he was actually doing was rambling like a madman and showed no sign of being able to dress himself or function as a normal, rational human being.

Oh my God! He’s had a stroke!

We called the doctor who was with us in minutes. My God, where we used to live it would have been a case of making an appointment for six days hence. Anyway, let’s stick with the plot…

The doctor came, took one look at his leg, which by now had swollen to a most peculiar shape, three times it’s normal size and red as a freshly boiled lobster, and demanded he go straight to hospital. The reason being that he had a ridiculously high temperature and that was causing his mental confusion and  also that infections of the type he had could quite quickly turn really nasty.  Since we lost my brother to exactly that type of infection last year we were taking no arguments from Boofuls about whether or not he was going to hospital. Not up for debate, mate. You’re going .

Having assured the doctor that we could make it there under our own steam, she left. Five minutes later, Boofuls took a turn for the worse. Lashes, bless her. Didn’t mess about at all, she simply called an ambulance for him.

That was the start of a month of it. A couple of days in hospital, daily visits back to the hospital for intravenous antibiotics, scans, blood tests, doctor’s follow up visits. None of it seemed to be doing the trick. Poor Boofuls remained in as much pain as before as his leg refused to respond to any treatment.

Eventually, it began to recover. It took about five weeks and it’s still not right yet but at least he can walk rather than shuffle and the pain has subsided to a more manageable excruciating.

Since he was clearly on the mend, we accepted an invitation to go to our friend’s house for  supper.  They also have a hotel, although it’s a fair bit grander than ours. “Are you ok with prawns, chicken wrapped in bacon and fruit tart?” “Ooh, lovely, I replied.” Boofuls’ response was a bit less enthusiastic but to be honest he doesn’t really get much of an opinion when it comes to food as he’s so incredibly picky. If it was up to him we’d have pate, steak and apple crumble with custard for every meal. Not that there’s anything wrong with pate, steak and crumble but I prefer a bit more variety.

We turned up at the appointed hour, clutching a very nice bottle of wine. Our hosts were delightful. As I’d hoped we got the full tour of their hotel and it didn’t disappoint. All decorated in a  colonial style that perfectly matched the building, it was beautifully done.

Eventually we sat down for dinner. The spicy prawns were served. I gave Boofuls a warning look. Don’t start complaining about the food.   There were only four on the plate and he ate two of them, cutting the rest up to make it look  like he’d made an effort.

Next came the main course. Just as I like it, lots of vegetables and lovely, juicy chicken. Very tasty, our host is clearly a very good cook. Quite handy really when you have to feed lots of people every day.

The evening flew by in a blur of anecdotes about guests, chat about family and general congenial conversation.  Before we knew it we were a bit wine fuddled and ready for our taxi home.  What a great way to spend an evening.

Off we toddled to bed. Of course we don’t really do very late nights now as we are always up stupidly early to get breakfast service on the go.

I went out like a light. Only to be woken up in the early hours by the sound of Boofuls calling Hughie on the big, white telephone.

Oh no! Poor old Boofuls. I wonder what’s upset his stomach,  I wondered as I drifted back off to sleep. Shortly after I was woken again by the sound of….well. Let’s not go into that one, use your imagination.

Oh no! I wonder what’s upset him? It can’t be food poisoning as I’m absolutely fine. Oh. The prawns.

Poor old Boofuls vommed and pooped his way through the night.

I left him in bed when it was time to get up to work. He did argue a bit until I pointed out that food service, sickness and diarrhoea  we a bad combination and he wasn’t getting anywhere near the kitchen, dining room or guests.

I took Douggie the doggie for a quick walk and when I came back Boofuls was standing on the patio. He looks a bit funny, I thought. Closer inspection revealed that his mouth and face were swollen, he had big purple lumps all over his face and he was a lovely puce colour. Not a pretty sight.  Added to that he’d had very little sleep  and felt terrible he didn’t look at all at his best. He certainly wouldn’t have won a beauty contest.

“I might be wrong, love. but that looks like a shellfish allergy to me.” Mr Google confirmed my suspicions. A few antihistamines and a couple of days later he was pretty much back to normal.

Poor old Boofuls, he hasn’t half been through it lately.



Prawn allergy.

The Curious Waves

While I was taking the dog for his evening walk tonight I was lured to the sea front by the sound of crashing waves.  IT’s like a magnet, crashing waves, I can’t help but go and take a look as I’ m fascinated by the sea.  Since being a small child I’ve wanted to live by the sea – and now I do. Ok, it took fifty years to achieve my goal but we’re here now. Better late than never.

Anyway, back to the plot. As I walked down towards the prom I could see that every now and then a wave would pop it’s head up over the wall as if trying to see what was on the other side.  Not that there was a lot to see, a few stray tourists, a couple who, like me, clearly enjoyed watching the waves, a couple of cars and that was about it.

Still the sea kept jumping up trying to look over the wall.

I was quietly giggling to myself at the absurdity of it all when a huge waved jumped straight over the wall and soaked a couple who had been quietly minding their own business. Ok. I admit it. I laughed.

It didn’t stop me playing chicken with the waves five minutes later, unlike the other people though, I only got my feet wet. That happens so regularly these days that I’m in great danger of developing trench foot. It’s worth it though, it’s also worth the fifty year wait to get here. As I walk along the prom in the morning before starting work I just can’t believe how lucky we are to live in such a beautiful place. It just goes to show, it’s never to late to live your dreams.

Here are a few photos, taken on different days. Enjoy.

Copyright tripping over pebbles no more
Copyright tripping over pebbles no more

Supermoon and Lunar Eclipse

I obviously have too much time on my hands.

Since we had a superman and a lunar eclipse in the same night I thought it would be a good idea to get my camera out and shoot a few frames.

First I went with Douggie the doggie down to the beach during the highest of high tides to get a picture of the supermoon and the waves. The plan was to use long exposures to get the sea looking like mist. Unfortunately, from my perch on the steps I managed to occasionally get drenched when an extra enthusiastic wave threw itself at the sea wall.  Poor Douggie, who normally loves the sea was most unhappy. Not only was it dark but it was wet and wild. After I’d got the shots I wanted I drove home with a wet arse while Douggie complained and moaned that he hadn’t got a proper walk and I still owed him. After a change of clothes I was happy to oblige and took him on a lot less eventful but also less stressful stroll round the church grounds.

At bedtime I set my alarm for 3.00 a.m. to try and get a few photos of the lunar eclipse. 3.00? Good Lord! First day off in five months and I decide to get up at 3 in the morning. Bonkers!

The moon, very obligingly hovered in a brilliant position where I could shoot it without having to get dressed and find a better location. Dougie, Lashes, Boofuls, and The Prof all stood on our patio in our nightwear marvelling at the moon. After a few minutes Lashes and The Prof got bored and went back to bed but Boofuls and I stayed up till 4.30 waiting for cloud banks to pass and allow me to get the perfect shot.

Here are a few photos from the evening. Enjoy.


Is there anybody there?

Some of you may remember that it’s roughly a year ago since my little brother shuffled off his mortal coil and put on his angel wings. Funny that, our Rick putting on angel wings because he was a little devil as a kid and a proper sod when he grew up.

The exact date of the anniversary of his death is the 9th September. As the date got closer it loomed over me like a dark spectre, I was dreading it.

Ideally we’d have had no guests in that day but as money is very much a consideration I didn’t think it would be prudent to close for a day so I could feel sorry for myself. Instead, I decided that I’d go to a local beauty spot and at the exact time we turned off his life support machines I’d listen to the music we played as he died while I reflected on his life, his death and the time since.

As I was cooking breakfast for the guests that morning  I was absorbed in my work ( it requires a lot of concentration turning out two dozen full English breakfasts with all it’s variations). I was standing at the grill watching the bacon turn crispy. There is a fine line between crispy (brown) and buggered (black) and there’s only a minute or so between the two. Anyway, as I watched the bacon I saw the light on my right hand side change – as if someone had drawn a curtain.  That’s a good trick on it’s own as we don’t have curtains or blinds at that window. I turned to look and of course there was nothing there and everything was normal. Shrugging my shoulders I carried on with what I was doing and the rest of breakfast service passed uneventfully.

A little while later I was in the middle of servicing one of the bedrooms. As normal I had my music playing on my iPhone. The music in question was ‘Down the dust pipe’ by Status Quo. Rick liked Status Quo, you can’t go wrong with a bit o’ eight bar blues. The track ended and the music stopped instead of moving straight onto the next track. ‘Odd’, I thought. I walked over to my phone to see why it had stopped and the next song was cued up ready to play  – on the screen in large letters read, “I’m not dead.”



That was all I needed to cheer me up for the rest of the day. As a firm believer in life after death I can now happily say my little bro has moved onto better things. Happy days.

That was the week that was

This week alone we have had no internet which is a bit of a blow when your diary and booking system is all on online.

We’ve had no  phone.  Useful when you’re running a business.

Also, terrifyingly, we discovered we had no insurance cover. We’d put in a claim for a tv and it was overturned. It seems that due to an item in the small print we’d actually not been covered for weeks. OMFG!!!!

Thank God it was only a tv we’d claimed for and not a major claim. I’m not sure if it was some sort of celestial joke that caused the fire alarms to go off that day for no reason but I can tell you that I nearly dropped dead of fright right there on the spot.

You’ll be glad to know that it’s all sorted out now. I fucking hate insurance companies!

We had a gas leak, that was fun.

It’s a good job I clean behind the cooker at ridiculously regular intervals or it could all have been very nasty. While I was on the floor cleaning the pipes on ‘clean behind the cooker Monday’ which also turned into ‘clean behind the cooker Tuesday’ because I’d slopped food around that day. I heard hissing and noticed bubbles where the soapy water had touched the hole in the pipe.

The plumber was duly called who said he’ d come the following day. “The following day?!?” ” Can you smell gas?”  he enquired.

Well, no but…. “well it’s not gas then. It’ll be fine. Turns out it was gas and a bad one at that. The gas board’s emergency number was called and the genius gas man spent a good two hours fixing it while I made contingency plans about how to feed 26 people with no hob or oven to cook with.

While all that was going on we also had  guests keeping drugs in their room.  Boofuls had to have a word with them. Even he was a bit surprised when they said they’d store it at the parent’s house.

Electrical equipment has been falling over and dying like flies. We have about six vacuum cleaners and not one of them works properly.  It makes vacuuming ginormous bedrooms a bit of a pain to be honest.

Poor old Boofuls has spent far too much time this week holding, fixing and re-routing cables trying to make the tv in room 14 work.

We completely ran out of bedding as the laundry has consistently failed to return our linen to us. At one point they’d lost 20 double duvet covers. We suggested to them that we use their contract linen until they find our lost linen and they agreed to deliver it all the following day. Guess what? Yup. No linen.  We couldn’t make up a single matching bed set. Sigh. They turned up two days later at 8.45  this morning while we were serving breakfast. They couldn’t have picked a worse time to turn up. The driver just smirked when I voiced my discontent. I could have hit him round the head with a frying pan!

It’s not all doom and gloom though.  The breakfast order tickets coming into the kitchen often make me laugh out loud when I see the various abbreviations Lashes uses.

Generally we have B=bacon, E=egg, Be= beans, you get the idea, all very straight forward. The perfect breakfast is a FE, full English. Seven items, no messing about with fiddly stuff.

Of course it never goes that smoothly. It still makes me titter like a schoolboy when I get a ticket that says Nom  Nob. Can you guess what it means? This week we also had a Nom Not Nob. Teehee. Then of course we got the cryptic ticket which blew my brain.

Lashes had written:

Table 17


FE – no HB/M/Be

OK. EBTS that’s easy,  it’s egg, bacon, tomato,sausage

Next breakfast: I stared and stared at the ticket and the two plates. It wouldn’t compute.  FE without hash browns, mushrooms and beans. This shouldn’t be so difficult, get it together woman!


FE no hb/m/be is EXACTLY the same breakfast as EBTS!!! Oh my God! Write it the same way, woman! I was so confused!


On Tuesday we decided to have Prosecco Tuesday after we’d finished cleaning the rooms. Our little chambermaid can’t believe her luck! She’s never worked anywhere that has prosecco after work.

It’s not a bad old life, really.

Where’s the real one?

Driving round south Devon recently I saw a sign which pointed down a road and said Decoy town centre.  Funny, I thought. I wonder where the real town centre is? Then I saw another sign, this one said Decoy country park. 

Funny, I thought. I wonder where the real country park is? I know! They must  have a decoy one to keep all the tourists at bay, sending all of them to the fake while all the locals enjoy the real one in peace and quiet. What a great idea!

Life in B and B land is busier than a busy thing lately. Now I know how hoteliers mange to make enough money in the summer to see them through the winter. Boofuls, Lashes and I are knackered, and with no sign of a day off till the ned of September at least. It’s a good job we love it. So may lovely people pass through our little B and B, I’m always sorry to see them leave. They arrive as paying guests and leave as friends.

The down side is the workload in these few, lucrative weeks.

Staggering out of bed at 6.30 a.m. the other morning as is my habit recently,  I fell into the shower and attempted to wake up sufficiently enough to face the day.

Once I was out of the shower, dried and feeling much fresher, I reached for a tin of  deodorant. That one was empty so I reached for another one, and then another.  As I picked up each tin, shook it and then placed it back down it struck me that I was `playing  deodorant companology.  Kept me giggling all day that did and yes, I did throw away all the empty deodorant tins that had collected on my dressing table.

Ok. That’s my break over with. I’m off to polish some glass.  Whatever you’re doing, I hope you’re having a great time. 

Gi’ ‘n’ tonc dahling

It’s all a bit of a whirlwind lately. Here I am just about to tell you all about Boofuls’ birthday on 4th July and it’s nearly August! 

They weren’t fibbing when they told us July and August were busy, busy months, our feet haven’t touched the floor for weeks!

Anyway, without further ado…

The birthday bash.

Since it was Boofuls’ birthday it seemed a good idea to invite some of the local hoteliers around  for a few drinkies and to make a few new friends. Invitations were sent out and every single person accepted. In our wisdom we thought that we’d make it an afternoon ‘do’ as it was a hoteliers school night and we all had to be up early the next morning.

What on earth was I thinking? This lot can party like there’s no tomorrow.

The sun shone, the patio was decorated with tubs of flowers and umbrella’d tables. It all looked lovely. One by one the guests turned up – heavily laden with bottles of champagne, prosecco, wine, beer and cider. Why oh why did we buy so much booze? They all brought enough to sink a battleship. 

Or so I thought.

As the afternoon wore on I realised that everyone except me had drunk their own weight in alcohol. I’d decided several days earlier that I’d be staying on the wagon for this one. One of us needed a clear head in the morning. I was glad I stood by my decision. Fair to say that Boofuls had a great time.

There was much ribaldry, banter and laughter, the wine flowed like water.

One woman had to be carried home and half an hour later so did her husband.  they run a five star establishment round the corner.  I’m absolutely sure they managed to get a decent breakfast out to their guests as they are consummate professionals but I’m also pretty sure they would have gone straight back to bed after.

The afternoon turned into evening, the music played,  the conversation flowed as easily as the wine and a great time was had by all.  As the evening came to a close, Boofuls and I were sitting in the bar with a couple of German guests having a conversation via Google translate – which was hysterically funny.

Just after the clock struck 11.00 pm  two other guests walked into the bar. Two middle aged, knocking on the door of elderly, ladies who had been competing in a bridge tournament. I’m going to call them Strident and Curly.

Strident burst through the bar door; “Where’s the party? We know there’s a party, we saw it from our bedroom window. Where is it? HAVE WE MISSED IT? Oh Blahddy hell! Never mind. Get me drink!”

Clearly three sheets to the wind, I think it’s fair to say they’d also been partying.

The Germans looked at me unnerved by the somewhat wild and dishevelled looking woman shouting at me and staggering across the room.

Curly, waddled unsteadily behind her on her chubby, inebriated legs, collapsed on the sofa, and in a manner amazingly like Patsy Stone from Ab Fab, leaned off the chair arm, almost sliding to the floor and said wearily, “Gi’ ‘n’ tonc,  Dahling’.

“I’m sorry ladies. It’s gone eleven, I can’t serve you.”

Strident  answered, “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s only us, no one will know.  Just get us a drink!”

“Sorry ladies, can’t do it, we are only licensed till eleven.”

“Well don’t sell it to me, then  just GIVE me the blahddy drink” announced Strident stridently.

Once again I refused to serve them, at which point they took great umbrage, got unsteadily to their feet and declared;  “Oh, we might as well just go to Blahddy bed then, THEY’VE  (the Germans) have got a drink! So unfair!” They staggered angrily out of the bar. 

The Germans, who’d managed to get the gist of what was happening, and we ignored the complaining as it faded into the distance and carried on with our chat.

Before too long we trotted off to bed ready for a bright and early start the next morning to prepare breakfast for all of our lovely guests. Funnily enough, two of them didn’t make it down for breakfast. I wonder why?




May we photograph the strawberries?

You couldn’t make this stuff up! Our amazing and lovely neighbours came round for drinkies a  few days ago and suggested that we start to write down all the stories as by the time we’ve retired we’ll be able to write a book. Well, just to kick it all off, here are the tales from the last few days:

Last week Mr Creepy booked a double room at our lodging emporium. He turned up on his own even though he’s booked a super king size room. Odd.  One person. Maybe he just liked to spread out a bit, I mean they are six foot beds.

“Are you on your own then?” “At the moment.” came back the answer with a little smile. he didn’t offer any more information and we didn’t ask.  We didn’t think anything about it, we just thought his companion/friend/partner would be along later.

Around 10pm Mr Creepy came into the bar for a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Looks like his companion/friend/partner turned up then.” Didn’t think any more about it. Mr Creepy didn’t come down for breakfast.  Didn’t really think too much about it. People quite often don’t make it down for breakfast.

After we’d finished service, Boofuls was sitting at his desk and watching the CCTV monitors – as he does. You have to love cctv. Boofuls was watching and calling me in a stage whisper: “Be quick! Look! LOOK! LOOKA’ THAT! He’s ‘ad two women in their all night.” Boofuls watched with incredulity as Mr Creepy sneaked two young, attractive black girls out of his room and into his car.

Mr Creepy came to hand in his room key. Boofuls asked him in a completely deadpan manner if he’d enjoyed his stay. Mr Creepy smirked and ensured him that he had indeed enjoyed his stay. *shudder*

As the summer has progressed we’ve discovered that our garden provides an abundance of luverley fruit. Strawberries are growing faster than we can pick them and now the blackberries, raspberries and plums are joining in. We’ve got so much fruit I’ve had to start making jam. First I made some jam with the rhubarb. It was delicious, if I do say so myself. We put it out on the breakfast display along with a bowlful of strawberries freshly picked from the garden that morning.  Obviously we told all the guests that they were our own. Well. What a to do that caused.

The chinese people wanted to photograph the strawberry plants in the garden.  They were told that they could go into the garden directly after breakfast ( the real reason for that being that Lashes had time to puck up the poo from the lawn).

The Chinese family finished their breakfast as fast as they could and then asked us  if it was ok to go to the garden now. They were almost bouncing in their seats with excitement.   Lashes escorted them round to the garden and they oo-ed and ah-ed and photographed every single plant. There’s nowt so queer as folk.

Then we had the Canadian couple. Well, I’m going to call them Mr & Mrs Enthusiastic. They enthused at length about EVERYTHING. You’d think they’d never eaten an egg before. The man would talk your ears off and all the time he talked he laughed and enthused and cheered up everyone in the room – except for the old couple who sit quietly at the back. I could tell he pissed them right off.

That brings me nicely to last night. Boofuls and I had been out for most of the day. We’d gone to Cockington Country Park with Douggie the Doggie for afternoon tea. Then we went out for an early dinner at a local steak house and after that we went to the theatre courtesy of Lashes and an early father’s day gift. Thanks, Lashes.

All of this of course meant that Lashes was holding the fort back at the hotel. At some point in the evening one of the guests, a young man, came down to ask how to get on the internet. Lashes showed him but he seemed not to understand her instructions. “Come on, I’ll show you where your instructions are” and she followed him up to his room.

Ladies and gentlemen. This is the point where we have to decide if there was any ulterior motive on the part of the couple. The jury is still out. You decide based on the testimony I am about to give you.

Lashes followed the man into the room. At this point a lady’s voice cried out from the bathroom, “Excuse me!” Lashes turned round to apologise for disturbing them, only to be greeted with an eyeful of stark naked female. “I’m so sorry!” Lashes said as she turned away and hurriedly showed the man the internet instructions before leaving  the room as fast as was humanly possible. The man seemed unperturbed by the whole event and the woman continued with her ablutions. Poor old Lashes was mortified. However, I must ask: If you were in a hotel bathroom and a stranger walked into your room, would you not just close the bathroom door rather than stand there stark bollock naked? Add to that the fact that the lady in question spoke and caused Lashes to turn round makes me feel that the there was more to this close encounter than meets the eye. Again. There’s nowt so queer as folk.

So there we are.  It’s often knackering, it’s frustrating, it’s challenging but it’s never boring being in the hotel trade.

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