I think 'management of expectations' is critical to one's reaction to almost everything in life.

I was very upset the other day, because a nice, and I believe well intentioned, lady called Tina gave me the most fantastic write-up on Trip Advisor, with full marks for everything they list such as room, value, service, sleep quality etc; but overall she only gave me four blobs.  This is worse than no write-up, as it will pull down my ratings.  It's already made me slip down from No 34 to No 46 out of 172 B&Bs on Dartmoor.  And I am determined to be Numero Uno!

I've been battling with myself since about what, if anything, to do about it. Should I contact her? Was it a mistake? If it wasn't, I just don't want to know what she didn't like about my perfect home.  Perhaps it was too quiet and remote for her?

But I've come up with an answer.  I must make sure that these lovely guests of mine don't expect to find the equivalent of a Holiday Inn in my family home nestling in the wilds of Dartmoor.

So I've amended my website (www.wydemeet-dartmoor.com), and told them!  "Expect to come across drawer-fulls of stored ski-clothes, family photographs and old lipstick, the odd muddy paw-print and a shower with a mind of its own," I've written.  I am very curious as to whether this is going to increase, or decrease, bookings.  I don't really care either way, because it is all going so well that I wouldn't object to a bit of a rest.  What I really, utterly, absolutely couldn't stand, would be for someone to arrive with the wrong expectations, and to be disappointed.

The most expensive room on offer, which I've called 'Hexworthy', is actually my bedroom, but I cant be arsed to move out of it for less than £260 (£130 per night, 'including scrumptuous breakfast of local produce', available only for a minimum of two nights).  This must be the most pricey B&B bedroom on Dartmoor, so I think some of my guests are a little surprised to find themselves sharing my walk-in cupboard complete with underwear shelf, and the dressing table drawers all stuffed with unused nail varnish and body lotion.  And to get rid of every carpet stain made by children and dogs over the past fifteen years would have meant re-carpeting the whole thing.  So I haven't.

Instead we have to play on Wydemeet's unique location, and my magnetic personality.  Seems to be working most of the time.  I nearly cried when by chance just today I came across lovely Tracy's review, complete with the full quota of blobs, headed: "Perfection!!! Great Host, Wonderful Setting and the Best Nights Sleep away from Home in Years!!!!"

And I was most gratified by a recent American guest's reaction when I showed him Hexworthy in all its glory. "Holy Cow!" he exclaimed.

Now the holidays are over and everyone's back to school I thought things might calm down a bit.  But no! The bookings just keep on coming!  I keep wondering whether I might soon move back into my (the best, obviously) room, and then someone else books it! Good! I am very comfy in Revered Son's hideaway in the attic, while he is away at boarding school.

I had wondered how logistically it was going to work, incorporating Beloved Daughter's school run into making breakfast.  But so far it's fine.  If anyone wants a cooked breakfast between 8.05am and 9am Sashka is kindly available to help on Monday's and Friday's; and I'm here on Saturday's and Sunday's.  Which leaves Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays for the odd occasion when this might prove a potential issue.  In which case Beloved Daughter will have fun enjoying a sleepover at a friend's house; or flexi-boarding at the school.

So all appears to be working remarkably well to date, and I'm looking forward to making six new friends this weekend!

Tomorrow it's Widecombe Fair.