It’s ready. It was a deadline to not miss. The cleaners have been in, the interior designer has had a moment, the fabrics and paint colours have been carefully chosen, the builders have finished and left the building, the painter won’t get out of bed for less than a King’s ransom (just gonna have to take a deep breath and say yes), the advertising budget has been exceeded, and the social media influencers have received a no-no in their quests for endless freebies and been (less than) politely told to get a job. Room service has been hired, and the caretaker/security has agreed to repeat her sterling service of last year.
The deadline of 20 something of April has been met. The booking has not been confirmed, but that’s their usual behaviour and no disrespect is intended, but they’ve got a long journey in quite hazardous conditions. All we await now is their arrival.
Their first booking was last year, all very tentative and wary of us, but they settled in, and in a September rush of emotion and bag packing and telephone line squabbling, they promptly left, “absolutely darling” promising to return.
But, will they? The wait begins…
The watchful eye of the caretaker.
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