My daddy, the chambermaid
The past 3 weeks have been ridiculous. Since Danny arrived in St Ives we haven’t stopped BUT we have not been without help and even though most of the time we initially refused help saying that we were ‘fine on our own’ there have been a few absolutely vital ‘thank god’ moments along our journey.
Thank god we decided to get help with the painting.
There was a time when Danny and I intended to do it all ourselves. Just trust me when I say we would still be painting now and there would be a fair few disappointed guests.
Thank god Danny’s mum offered to make the curtains for us.
It was an incredibly generous thing to do, and I don’t think any of us realised how generous until the scale of the job became clear.
These were no ordinary curtains… this was fabric we dragged up from London, heavy fabric that we wanted in french pleats because ‘simple’ curtains (and from my perspective no curtain is simple, but apparently there are much easier ways to do them) was not enough. ‘They are the focal point of the room’ we announced grandly to whoever would listen.
21 days later (each day being a minimum of 12 hours) Mummy Strickland finally walked out the door and we were on our knees in gratitude for all her work. It would have cost us £thousands and I don’t think we’ll ever be able to repay her.
Thank god we didn’t open on 31st March
We’re speedy – don’t get me wrong – but that would have killed us. In fact I have horrid visions of either passing out as soon as we opened or just not opening and leaving unsuspecting guests standing on the doorsteps as we drilled and painted around them.
Thank god my parents came to clean
The last week has been insane, we’ve had to wait around for deliveries meaning that we couldn’t go out and buy furniture that we desperately needed and we’ve had so much to do that cleaning the house from top to bottom was something we’d pretty much consigned to the night before.
The arrival of my parents on Sunday was an absolute godsend. Within an hour of arriving my dad had painted the terrace and hoovered a bedroom; and my mum was making a list of cleaning products she needed to buy in order to get the place up to scratch.
Between them they polished the house from top to toe and, judging from the satisfied look on my mum’s face at the end of it I could draw one of two conclusions 1) she was satisfied with a job well done 2) she was delighted that, after 38 years of marriage, she’d finally got my father just where she wanted him – with a hoover in one hand and a pillow protector in the other.
Thank god for the men…
And by that I mean all the men that responded to my panicked phonecalls declaring some emergency or other. Everything from our TVs not working yesterday through to curtain poles falling down this morning.
All in all, while things have not always gone according to plan, we are open and – as far as the guests are concerned – there’s not a ladder to be seen or a paintpot in sight.
Now we just need to get through our first breakfast.