Much too busy to work
It's been hard to find time to be a hotelier recently, what with the Tal-y-Bont Gala, the amateur dramatics presentation, local politics, our non-profit-making garden party and exams.
The gala was the first major event. I was duly put down to be on the baked spuds tent vying for custom with Alf's Burger Bar. I refused the honour of running the bouncy castle: people normally have to pay me to go near their children! I actually really wanted to be in charge of the welly wanging or bat-the-rat, but I was only a minion this year.
The weather was kind to us and the only mishap was Steve's band who overloaded the power circuits to the hall - or so they proudly thought. Actually, one of the darling kiddies unplugged them!
Hot on the heels of the gala was the first am-dram production for 15 years. Sally and I volunteered to be organisers and for two days turned into whirling dervishes, polished the hall floor, descaled the storeroom which was to be the boys' dressing room and improvised side curtains, props and furniture. The new chairs for the hall arrived the day before the performance so we town ladies unloaded the lorry while the able-bodied men looked on. The hotel was raided periodically for sofas, coffee tables, vases and other sundry items: It was beginning to look like we had the receivers in .
Ticket sales had been poor so we included tickets in our Weekend Break so that there were some people in the audience, but the grapevine had worked well and there was a capacity house of 90! (Wish it would work so well for the restaurant.)
We have an annual garden party for members of our incentive scheme, the Top One Hundred Club. We had never had the weather to actually hold it in the garden and this summer was no exception: it was the only wet day! We provide wine and tea and the customers are given tours of front and back of house. This year we had a hat competition and everyone entered into the spirit of it: bouquets of flowers for the winners and much laughter. We were deeply touched by the customer who stood up and thanked us for providing a "home from home". We do care - it is nice to know they do too.
A-level results were next: there was high tension at the bar on the Wednesday, particularly as one young lady's family had threatened excommunication for non-performance!
But as it turned out, Liverpool University is now awaiting the arrival of a well-trained bar lady with bright red Doc Martens and a number of unsuspecting colleagues around the UK can expect to be learning a little Welsh.
The tension grew at home with our son's tenancy under question as we awaited the GCSE results. On a rainy day with a carload of youngsters we drove to school.
I had a hard job concentrating on breakfast as I rehearsed all the scenarios: my nails were bitten to the quick as I tried to concentrate on the morning's Caterer. External examiners were about to pass judgement on our parental ability - and also the projects. Were the photos good enough? Should I have insisted on checking the spelling?
After what seemed like an eternity, they started to trickle back to the car. The upshot of the final results was a very proud mother and boss, four new sixth formers and only another year until we do it all again.
