Home Sweet Home

This is only the second weekend I've had without guests since everything went mad back in August.  It feels strange to think I am earning a living from B&B, and yet this week I have done absolutely nothing to support it.  It is nice to have my home to myself and use whichever loo I feel like, whenever I like!

And lie-ins!

My last visitors were a sort of hybrid between guests and friends. I am very fond of them, but haven't seen them for nearly a decade! 

This is a murky B&B area.  Already some best friends have changed their minds about visiting because they were not sure about coming to see me and taking up a potentially profitable bedroom, whilst strangers wander about the house.  The result is I havent had any friends or family - not even Mum - to stay since it all took off.

I also rather foolhardily gave away a free night at a recent charity pledges evening.  I begged my mate Richard, who was attending the dinner, and who had pursuaded me to part with the night in the first place, to bid for it.

Thankfully, he kindly did - he bid £90 for a night in Dartmeet, which hopefully is good news for everybody.  Why I was so keen for Richard to win it was so that I could get away with providing domestic worn-out un-ironed sheets which I wash at home, no 'hospitality trays', and a relaxed supper and breakfast with cheap orange juice in the kitchen with me.  Otherwise my little gesture might have turned into a rather time-consuming, expensive,  generous one!

Richard is looking forward to his visit very much I think, and in the meantime, I like to believe my friends-who-paid had a nice time too.  I gave them rather a late dinner on the first night (there was just so much to catch up on!), and they took Beloved Daughter and me out to the local pub on the second.  I provided them with my best quality ironed Egyptian bedlinen, designer toiletries, and hospitality trays complete with ground coffee, cafetieres, and fresh milk-in-a-thermos and biscuits as usualy, but didnt do the room-straightening thing, as it felt more intrusive with people you know. 

Our final evening was spent in our cosy sitting room in front of its log fire, listening to their son playing some of the hardest concertos ever written for the flute, as a YouTube backing track streamed through Beloved Daughter's buskers box - a rather successful new use for my satellite broadband.  It was exquisite.