What a difference four days make. It has turned decidedly cold, so much so that I abandoned my Tilley hat in favour of my fleece beanie, while the woman who works in the office had to go home to get an extra layer. That's comparatively easy for her, as she lives in the village. If I forget anything it's a round trip of virtually an hour to go and get it, so I have to manage without. I try to make sure I don't forget my work coat by keeping it in the car on the days when I'm not working, and in ten years I have only once forgotten my lunch and had to go and buy something in the village shop.
I felt the first light drops of rain fairly early on, as I carried on where I'd left off at the lupins, working my way through Myrtus, Nandina and Neillia. By mid morning the spots had developed into proper, serious rain, and so I wasn't as upset as I'd have been otherwise to be left in charge of the tea room and tills, while the manager disappeared to do whatever it is that he does on Monday mornings. My extreme antipathy to the idea of combining serving tea and cake with cleaning up pots of plants between cafe customers seems to have registered, and I was left in peace to read up on shrubs and FERA's latest leaflet on Phytophthera ramorum in between serving customers and washing up. The washing up meant that after a while I had reasonably clean hands, although my trousers were another matter.
The owner is interviewing for someone to run the cafe and shop, and I heard her tell today's candidate that the manager and I couldn't operate the cappuccino machine, so I am cautiously optimistic on the tea room front. It needs a welcoming, enthusiastic face permanently behind the counter to give customers an encouraging smile as they walk into the shop, not somebody hired for their plant knowledge who would patently rather be out in the plant centre, either looking after the plants or talking to customers about them.
My phone calls yesterday bore modest fruit. Someone rang up and did want the two Pennisetum 'Hameln' I'd put aside for him in a spirit of some doubt, given he asked for them in May (it took me a while before the penny dropped that 'Hameln' was the German name for the city which we have anglicised as Hamelin. Not such a bad mistake as an RAF driver my father came across during his national service, who drove a very long way across Germany looking for Cologne, leaving the signs to Koln far behind). The second successful message was for someone who had been identified on the customer wish list by their surname only. I wish that particular colleague wouldn't do that. Ringing up and having to say that you have a message for Bloggs feels crass. Mr, Mrs, Miss, Doctor, The Reverend, Joe Bloggs, I don't mind which, whatever the customer is comfortable with, but not just Bloggs. Today's customer turned out to be Lady so-an-so, which I didn't guess correctly in my phone message, but she was pleased to get her plant anyway. She had the shrewd face and twinkle in the eye of someone who probably didn't take offence easily.
Someone rang from one of our suppliers wanting to apologise to the boss for sending an invoice for Hibiscus at £75 each instead of £7.50. The boss wasn't answering his radio, so I got the full benefit of the apology and promised to pass it on. The yellow book organiser rang to chivvy the owner because the deadline for inclusion in 2014 was fast approaching. One of our regular elderly customers, who gives the impression of being terribly lonely (which of course puts people off) came in to ask if she could change a Buddleia she had bought which wasn't right for her garden, although she had lost the receipt. One of the pea chicks died. Sales were rather quiet, but the rain didn't help.
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