We’ll laugh about it in the future. It’s all for the best. Something better is round the corner. The universe knows what it’s doing. Everything will be fine…
If I hear one more fucking platitude I swear to God I’ll scream and punch the person uttering it right in the tits.
You may or may not have noticed that I’ve been a bit quiet on the blogging front for a little while. If you have noticed well, thanks for noticing.
Now, my inclination is to go quiet when things go wrong and that’s exactly what I’ve been doing but then I reminded myself that I keep this blog as a diary and really enjoy reading my previous posts a few years down the line. Since I am pretty much my only reader, I might as well tell it like it is and then in a few years I’ll read it and laugh about it…shit..I have to scream now and punch myself in the tits.
So. What’s occurring? Brace yourself for a full on bitch fest and pity party.
Well, as you know we got sued. What a palaver that was. We won but at a cost to time wasted, stress and mental and physical health. The person who sued us wasn’t happy at losing and having their appalling behaviour caught on our cameras, so decided to appeal. They lost that too. They decided to have another go. It was swiftly dealt with by someone far further up the food chain than us. This person with the major bee in its bonnet is, in the words of an esteemed judge, totally unhinged. We do believe that it’s all over now but I’m not holding my breath. we are after all dealing with a person with huge issues. A year this little lot has been going on.
A year in which we decided that enough was enough, it was time to sell up Boofuls’ Lodging Emporium and retire. Sure enough after a few months, along came a buyer. Searches, reports, mortgage offers, more reports, certificates, you name it, it had to be produced. Retiring is so close we can touch it. The new owners came to visit, face timed their kids showing them all round the house, talked all about their new menus, what they are going to change. It’s all so exciting. Boofuls and I are packed, ready to move to our little house with stunning sea views. Lashes has moved out and now lives happily with beardy guy.
Two days later an email turns up. “We’ve changed our minds. We aren’t buying it.”
What the actual FUCK?!? I’ll leave that there.
Next, Boofuls became more tired, more breathless and more grey than normal. I suspected the start of emphysema, after all, if you smoke for the best part of fifty years there will eventually be a pay back at some point. After much nagging he decided he would go to the GP.
The doctor did an ECG and told him to go straight to hospital, do not pass Go, do not collect £200. It turns out that his heart was beating at a ridiculous speed and was dancing to its own bizarre tune.
Once we got to the hospital they did another ECG and then took him straight into resus for six hours. It was terrifying. Almost a week in hospital and various tests and drugs, all of which failed to work, they eventually sent him home with instructions to do nothing and wait for an appointment to have his heart shocked into resuming a normal rhythm.
Can I just point out at this point that it’s June? June. The month when hoteliers traditionally get really busy for the summer season. There we are, one man down. Poor old Boofuls can only watch while we run around like headless chickens trying to keep everyone happy.
One the subject of June, can I also say WHAT A BLOODY STUPID TIME FOR A HOTELIER TO HAVE A BABY! Lashes is due to give birth to baby Dougal any day now. That’d be us two men down. Or to put it another way, I’m now doing the work of three people.
Pregnancy has not been kind to Lashes. She has developed gestational diabetes. What sort of a stupid condition is that? Become horribly diabetic to the point of having to test her blood sugar several times a day and inject insulin four times a day and then the second she gives birth it’s all over and she is no longer diabetic.
How mad is that?
So. There we are. Are you laughing yet? No. Me neither.