Wanted: one knight in shining armour
I must have sat down and tried to write this diary six times. Things can change in the blink of an eye in this trade. The deli counter is now up and running, and although it has been a slow start, things are looking good.
After a staff training session and a few more health and hygiene certificates under our belt, I thought we would be ready for the busy season that was to have been upon us. How wrong I was. Trade fell dramatically, thanks to some God-awful road works that lasted for more than three weeks. The heavy machinery the workmen used caused a lot of our old steel-framed windows to crack, and the noise and dirt kept even die-hard customers away.
We were all lulled into a false sense of security by this quiet period, though. Before we knew it, half-term was here and the place went mad, surprising myself and my staff. Didn't these people know it was the middle of winter?
Then there was Valentine's night. We could have doubled our tables if we had had any left. And it didn't stop there. The following day was our jazz night, held once a month on a Friday. We do a buffet and have a jazz trio, and it is always good for business. People enjoy the food and music, and it gives us a chance to show off our culinary talents.
It's one of the only times I wish for a bigger restaurant. We always sell out within a fortnight of advertising them.
Just as we get back on an even keel one of my chefs announces he is leaving. He has been with me for a while now and is a good chef, but he has had enough of this trade — he's off to the bright lights to try his hand at something else. Who knows what? It didn't come as a surprise, as he has never hidden the fact that he was not sure about this trade - but you could have knocked me over with a feather when my other chef handed in his notice a week later.
Wild thoughts began to run through my head. Is it me? Am I a bad boss? Do I have a terrible case of BO and nobody has had the courage to tell me? No, he's having transport problems and needs to get a job closer to home.
So here I am, the world at my feet, opportunity banging at my door. I can sense a busy year ahead of me, I can feel it in my bones. But I'm alone in the kitchen with no one to talk to but Mrs G, my kitchen porter. Where is my knight in shining armour? Where is the person who will let me have at least one day off a week? Oh well, I had better get on the phone to the JobCentre…
Helen Cutts is chef-proprietor of the Greenhouse restaurant in Warkworth, Northumberland
Next diary from Helen Cutts: 25 April
