What On Earth Is Happening To My B&B?

TripAdvisor Ranking: 8 (going down);  New Bookings: 0; Minutes spent worrying about this: 5.1/2; dates: 2

Last week we peaked in the Number 6 slot, thanks to even more, quite frankly, incredible reviews, but with my new marketing strategy - or lack of it - bookings are right down for the first half of July and then the whole house is rented out.  We are going to lose our place in the Premier League!

As Revered Son, Beloved Daughter and I set off on our mad trip to Turkey - a flight to Manchester followed by another to Dalaman ending with a four hour coach transfer to God knows where - we said goodbye to the couple who had just arrived.  They had almost immediately gone off with no research on the 1 1/2 hr hike to Princetown  wearing flipflops, and had very soon returned in some distress as the female half of said couple had been bitten by a horsefly.  Beloved daughter provided her with antihistamine and then they went off in their car.

Meanwhile lovely Sally arrived.  I found her through the Parish Magazine and I thought that she was so nice that all my guests would love her too.  So I invited her to look after the house, dog, horses and guests, in no particular order, for the week while we were away.

As we roared off in Marvin I had this terrible premonition that our new guests might not return in their car.  Thank goodness it was clearly me who had scared them off if so, rather than sweet Sally during her first hour of duties. 

7.24pm: Right now, I still have no idea whether they ever came back.

1.32pm: Had lunch with widowed plastic surgeon from Harrogate (burns not faces)

8.30pm: Turkish chef's Special Barbequed Goat Dinner, with widowed plastic surgeon from Harrogate, and ex-professional weightlifter/teeth implanter from Leicester. Must wash hair and get out best spray-on black wraparound ancient t-shirt dress, and agonising matching patent sky high killer heels. Thought: neither man is all that tall  but what the Hell.