Category Archives: 2015

Food glorious food!


Ah yes, food glorious food, cold jelly and custard.. and so on.

I’m a big fan of food, big being the operative word, a testament in fact to my love of food.

Many times I’ve wished I had Booful’s attitude to food. To him it’s little more than fuel to keep him alive. A few exceptions include fillet steak, cheese, bread and chocolate. When we go out for meal together I don’t even bother to ask what he’s going to eat as I already know – fillet steak, chips and a blue cheese sauce.

In the 31 years we’ve been married I have realised that the food no go list is extensive. It includes, but is not limited to: fruit, vegetables, rice, pasta, any kind of grain, yoghurts, anything spiced or flavourful, anything that requires chewing. I could go on.

When we first got married for the first three weeks I cooked us a lovely Sunday roast. On the fourth week he said, “do we have to have a meal, can I not just have a sandwich? And so it began. When I ask him what he wants to eat he generally replies with, “Ooh, I dunno. Egg on, beans on, cheese on.”

Over the next few years all attempts to get him to eat good food have fallen on stony ground. One small success is that he now eats his steak medium rare rather than cremated. At one memorable dinner party I cried in the bedroom when he left the table to make himself beans on toast after turning his nose up at salmon in champagne sauce. Not one of our best dinner parties.

Since I refused to join him in his eating habits I have got into the habit of making two meals. Generally something on toast for him and a real meal for me. It’s annoying but since it takes about two minutes to make beans, egg or cheese on toast it’s not the biggest pain.

Being included to fat I would shun ready meals, bottled sauces, packet foods or in fact anything pre prepared, preferring instead to know exactly what’s going into my food. Such was my food nazi-ism, I would mock anyone who bought pre cut vegetables. “How lazy can you get”, I’d proclaim, “it takes two minutes to prepare vegetables.”

My, how times have changed.

Now I’m feeling bit sheepish at my holier than thou attitude to food preparation. These days, it’s packets, preprepared vegetables, anything in fact that makes life easier. Fling it in a slow cooker, and Bob’s yer uncle. Winner winner, chicken dinner!

So what brought about this amazing volte-face?

Time.

Time and a change of lifestyle.

Being lucky enough to have always been self employed and have a relatively large amount of free time it was easy to shop for and cook healthy, nutritious and delicious food.

Since becoming the proud owner of a bed and breakfast emporium and latterly having rest and relaxation forced onto me after my big op, I’ve realised the only way I’m going to get a decent meal is by letting someone else take the strain. Hello ready prepared vegetables. Hello bottled sauces. It’s either that or join Boofuls with the egg on, beans on, cheese on diet.

Yesterday’s offering was a beef and lentil stew which took me about two seconds to prepare. Throw in a packet of veg, a stock pot, a packet of cubed beef and a handful of lentils and let the slow cooker work it’s magic.

I’ve discovered that it’s really ok to make life easier for yourself. If time, lifestyle and inclination permits then go for it. If not, that’s ok too. No pressure, no guilt it’s all good.

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Generating too much heat


You know when you have what seems like a really good idea at the time but you quickly realise you’ve made terrible mistake and can’t then back out?

That was us a month or two ago.

The hoteliers group hold a monthly coffee morning in winter. The idea is that you put on coffee and cakes and provide entertainment of some sort and it’s a nice social occasion but not totally pointless.

Last month was a talk from a tax inspector. Riveting stuff.

Anyway. They asked for volunteers  to host the next coffee morning.

“We’ll do it”  I heard.

Mad fools, I thought. What? Wait! Was that MY voice? What the hell…? Have I  gone stark staring bonkers?

It seemed like a great idea at the time. We’ve done loads of work and I was keen to show it off.  We’re  really proud of our place now.

Still a few more jobs to go but we have bags of time, I thought. Four months. No problem.

Four months ago we had bags of time.

My, how time flies.

It was yesterday.

Fifty five hoteliers turned up for coffee and cake and to run their critical eyes over my soft furnishing and their wandering fingers over my dados.

In the last week we have ramped up the decorating, furniture painting, cleaning, polishing, and general sprucing up.

By Thursday of last week the pressure was getting to me and a migraine was building up – it was probably over exposure to paint fumes now I come to think of it. I’ve breathed in so much paint that I don’t even notice it any more.

Why the hell did I agree to do it and especially on bloody Valentine’s and half term week.

What a fool!

We had house full of loved up couples for Valentine’s weekend and by Sunday my migraine had me threatening to rip my eyeball out. Way beyond being able to cope and with the cocktail of pills I was taking failing to work I announced to Boofuls that I was off to bed to try and sleep it off.

Our bedroom used to be one of the guest rooms. We have room one.

As I drifted off to sleep I suddenly heard a wailing coming from room two. Oh my good God! Ooh. Ooh. Ooh OOOOOHHHHHHH!!!!!

I thought bloody Lassie was in the next room!

I put my pillow over my heard and tried my best not to listen. Difficult above all the wailing.  Eventually it all calmed down and I drifted off to sleep.

RIIIIIIIINNNNGGGGGG!!!!!!

The fire alarm went off!

I leapt out of bed. Slipped on some shoes and proceeded to work my way round all the rooms, banging on the doors and shouting that it wasn’t a drill and it was time to go. I worked backwards round the corridor, starting at room 8.

Boofuls checked the fire alarm console and established where the fire was.

Room two.

We went and banged on the door and it was answered by the chap, zipping up his trousers. As soon as he opened the door it was obvious there was no fire. So far so good. Bear in mind that Boofuls had no idea about what had been going on in there just a few minutes before. “Have you been smoking in here?  Nope.  I struggled to keep the smirk off my face.

I wanted to save them further embarrassment at having literally been caught with their pants down and suggested that if they’d had the shower on it might have caused the alarm to go off.  At this exact point Boofuls said,  “You’ve obviously been generating too much heat in here.” Their faces were a picture.

Unable to contain myself any further I just walked off up the corridor stifling my guffaws while Boofuls looked at me in total bewilderment at the cause of my mirth.

It was blummin’ priceless! oh, how I love being a hotelier, it’s a laugh a minute.

We never did find out what actually caused the alarm to go off. Maybe it really was because they were hot stuff.

 

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, How the devil are you?


Another year draws to a close.  What a roller coaster it’s been. Unlike the previous few years when I’ve just been bloody glad to see the back of it, I’ve actually enjoyed this year’s ups and downs. Most of ’em anyway.

I’m not a massive fan of end of year round ups. I refer to look forward rather than back but this year I’ll make an exception.

January: Boofuls started the year on the leg he broke on new year’s eve. Worst new year ever. Me at home on my own and Boofuls in hospital having pins put in his leg.

February: One day after having the cast off his leg, Boofuls and I drove to Devon to try and find somewhere to live after the chap who’s property we were going to buy changed his mind. Having sold our house we were technically homeless. Marvellous.

Also February: Found a place to live! At this point we thank God that the previous property had fallen through.

March: Moved to the other end of the country. This month saw us living in a holiday flat while we completed all the legals on the B & B. What a great time we had, a pocketful of money and time our hands. We called it research but we really spent the month having fun.

April: Now the proud owners of a B & B in Devon. Our new life consisted of cleaning, cleaning, cleaning and more cleaning. Then we opened the doors to the great British public.

May: Wow! Talk about a baptism of fire.  A full house of young farmers here for their bi annual conference. Conference? A three night stag night for 5000 people is more like it.

June: Learning the ropes and a nice steady trickle of guests.

July: Got busy.

August: Got busier.

September: MAKE IT STOP!

October: Phew! We survived!

November: Enjoying the peace and quiet. Decorating commences.

December: Merry Christmas!

Ok. There may have been a bit more to it that that. Booful’s has been doing the accounts. I handed him a receipt from my trip to the hairdresser, he filed it under repairs and renewals!

We’ve just been up north for Christmas. I’ll tell you all about that in a day or two.

Merry Christmas!

 

 

 

 

 

 

A what pie?


Butter? A pie made of  butter? Are you making this up?

So went the conversation between Lashes’ new beau, The Prof and his colleagues at the school where he teaches.

It seems that they’ve been inspired by the great big bake off, or whatever that programme about baking cakes is called, and every week they have a bake off.

Usually the cakes and pastries are light, fluffy and delicate. The Prof mentioned about butter pie and all hell broke loose.

Is this a northern oik thing? Is it  a lard pie? What does it contain, just butter? The questions kept on coming until one bright spark suggested that there was no such thing and The Prof was simply making it up, therefore backing him into the corner of having to prove that such a thing existed. “Right! Right!  I’ll bring one in for you.”

That, dear reader was when I entered the plot.

” Lesley…..do you think you could…?

So that was how I came to be making the  Lancashire delicacy, butter pie. Although the word ‘delicate’ is a bit of a misnomer really as you can feel the fat forming on your hips as soon as you look at the thing. Nothing with  name like ‘butter pie’ was going to come under the heading of healthy eating now, was it?

The pie was duly made and delivered for judgement. It was judged to be a success!

So what exactly is a butter pie?

Pretty much as the name suggests. The principal ingredient is butter, along with potatoes, pepper, onion and a puff pastry crust.

Just in case you feel like making this deliciously naughty, once a year treat which melts in the mouth and lands on your bum, here is the lazy person’s recipe. You may note that it isn’t the most exact recipe you’ve ever followed.

You will need: A few potatoes, an onion or two, a huge dollop of butter, plenty of salt and pepper, ready made puff pastry.

Method: Peel and chop the potatoes and onions.  Add copious amounts of salt and white pepper.

Boil together until soft with a huge dollop of butter.

Strain most of the liquid off and transfer the mixture to a pie dish, using  a potato masher squish it all down a little bit to crush the potatoes, just  so it is nicely mushed but not smooth and dot with yet more butter. Season a bit more if needed.

The picture isn't mine. It belongs to: https://spacecudette.wordpress.com/2012/01/31/vegan-butter-pie/
The picture isn’t mine. It belongs to: https://spacecudette.wordpress.com/2012/01/31/vegan-butter-pie/

Add the puff pastry lid, brush with milk and cook in a hot oven until the pastry crust is lovely and golden.

So there it is; delicious butter pie. Don’t set the healthy eating police on to me, I’m not suggesting you eat it every day. Enjoy!

 

 

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.”

Sigh.

“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
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Copyright
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Copyright

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.

Copyright
Copyright
Copyright
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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.”

WHOA!

WHAT!? RICK?

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

EBTS

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!

OH!I’VE GOT IT!

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!

Heh.

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.