Part 53 Wild Child

Children in the restaurant, Golden Grahams and disappointment.

Hey, people are saying that if you put a like at the end of this a glorious heatwave will arrive the the UK.

Hiya. Welcome back etc.

Right, time for a tiny recap. We had an offer on our restaurant and we started making plans to view restaurants for sale in London.

We informed solicitors and our accountant, and the legal wheels started to turn. We contacted a local estate agent to get an idea of what our house was worth and got a feel for the market.

Next, we rang a couple of commercial agents in London and arranged some viewings. This couldn't happen for a couple of weeks as the restaurant was crazy busy and we hadn’t organised a train or a Travelodge. This was a lot of juggling.

However, there were some other people who needed to know that we were selling the restaurant. The team.

This task was the hardest. We felt as if we were letting them down. They liked working with us, well, they seemed to, and we liked working with them. There was an odd sadness to this whole situation. You know, the restaurant needed to be sold, we needed to have the next adventure, but it felt as though a happy experience was leaving us.

But before anything was mentioned, one of the team had something to tell us. It was Tricky Vicki. She took us to one side one day to tell us that she was pregnant.

This was a very nice thing for Vicki, this was a new adventure for her, we were very pleased for Tricky*.

(If you think that we deserve a coffee for these scribbles, that’s the button.)

However, Donna and I don’t have children, and we never wanted children, so when someone tells us they’re expecting, we’re happy for them. But if they told us that they were getting a kitten, we would probably be more excited.

Plus, and I know that having children is a gift from God, and a miracle to be enjoyed, and an experience like no other, and all the rest of it. But when someone tells me that they're expecting, I feel bad for them. Sorry pregnant people, that reaction only lasts for half a second, but my initial thoughts are always, “Oh no, I’m sorry”.

Obviously this is due to my personal feelings, and what is actually blurted out is more like “Oh that’s amazing, I’m overjoyed for you.” Donna is much more sincere.

And, while we’re on the subject of being honest, this. We were never set up to be a family orientated restaurant. It’s not that we didn’t want children in the restaurant, we just didn’t bend in that direction.

And we weren't actually discouraging kids. But we didn’t have a children's menu. Or a baby changing area. Or high chairs. But of course, children were very welcome.

Actually, well behaved children were welcome. Or should we say, well behaved parents.

And we had some excellent families dine with us. Those families whose children ate their meals like adults, those who were learning to appreciate food. Those who were being taught that the culinary world went beyond KitKat Cereal and Golden Grahams.

Actually, they look quite tasty.

We had to Google ‘unhealthy kids foods’ to find some examples to slot into that sentence and the internets turbocharger kicked in.

So yea, these families were amazing.

Who is Graham anyway?

Some families were not so amazing. You know the types. Those whose kids are set to standby for a few hours, then they’re released into a public space, and then they explode. They run wild around a restaurant, they disappear into the toilets, they run across the path of waiting staff who are carrying trays of glasses.

We often wondered who the parents would blame if a tray of glasses fell on little Tarquin’s head.

“Oops! Three bottles of Stella and a glass of Lambrini just landed on the head of your banshee child.”

“Oh my gosh! Tarquin my precious, what happened to you?”

“Mummy, mummy, that nasty man tripped over me while I was playing aeroplanes.”

“This is disgusting. I want to speak to the owner.”

“Well lucky for you, I am the owner.”

“And what are you going to do about this?”

“Well madam, what I’m going to do about this, is ask you a question. Do you think it’s sensible to let your child loose in a busy restaurant and run the risk of being injured?”

“No of course it’s not sensible. But I’ve had a busy week at work and I can’t be bothered to deal with the little bastard. That’s why I brought him here.”

“Your honesty is appreciated madam. And to show our appreciation, you can have a complimentary glass of Lambrini. However, you’ll have to wring it out of Tarquin’s hair first.”

Obviously that little scenario was made up, but the next couple of incidents are not made up.

We had an old piano in the corridor which led to the toilets. It was getting on a bit and probably very much out of tune, much like some of the stereotypical vegetarians who bypassed our restaurant. Anyway, one evening, a child, we’re not good with children’s age’s, so let’s say four foot tall, decided to tap on the keys. To be fair, she was playing quietly and the tune was pretty decent. However, a diner complained to Donna that the piano player was annoying him and could she mention it to the parents.

Now that’s a difficult one, and we’ve had it numerous times. Isn’t it strange how some people don’t have the balls to do it themselves. “Please waiter, do my dirty work for me. I daren’t.”

So Donna politely asked the parents of Little Liberace if the concert could be cut short. And good as gold, the bloke asked the little ‘un to stop, and she did. Then she walked calmly back to the table to join her parents.

However, maybe this bloke was only as good as fool’s gold. He then got up and went down the corridor to the toilets. And when he got to the piano, he lifted the lid and gave a bloody good belting on the keys, just to make his childish point.

And if we remember correctly, Little Liberace ordered the Bubble ’n’ Squeak Cakes with a carrot and orange sauce and her father screamed for a bag of Wotsits.

Another story?

We were paid a visit by a national newspaper reviewer at the restaurant in London. The reviewer had brought along their child, and again, not sure of the age, less than ten but more than five. Nothing wrong with this, this little cherub was obviously used to dining in restaurants.

But that wouldn’t make for very good gossip would it?

So, after about eleven seconds the child became bored, and proceeded to run between the tables around the restaurant. Fine if you’re in Wacky Warehouse, but they weren’t. Plus, other diners were visibly frustrated with this.

Then, the child went to the toilets, blocked the overflow hole on the sink, put the plug in and switched on the tap. We only knew about it when another guest mentioned it. So off went a member of the team to mop up the water. Which now means that other diners are receiving a lesser service as we’re one team member down.

We were just about to mention this to the parent/reviewer when it was noticed that the Gremlin had gone missing again. A quick search was done and it turned out that the the little tyke had snook back into the toilets and locked themselves in, and refused to come out.

The parent/reviewer was informed and off they went to collect their baggage. Did they look annoyed, surprised or embarrassed at there child’s behaviour?

Nope! It appeared to be just another day in paradise for this parent.

A rubber stamp on our decision to not have children.

But before you start, we did say that we were happy with well behaved children, or parents. Actually, sometimes there’s very little difference.

Around two weeks after that couple put an offer on the restaurant, they withdrew the offer.

That was incredibly annoying, and disappointing. We put the brakes on the legal action and cancelled appointments. We didn't mention anything to the team about selling the restaurant, we’d wait for another offer to come along first.

If one came along.

Right, we’re off. See you next week and thanks for catching up.

Donna and Andrew

No artificial colours or flavourings.

*Tricky Vicki’s baby is now sixteen years old. Or thereabouts.