The last month has been a bit of a whirlwind at the café.
Not quite the autumn I expected, if I’m honest.

Things have slowed a little since summer, of course, that gentle seasonal drop,  but not nearly as much as I imagined. We’re still baking in fairly full swing. Some days it feels as busy as July. It’s a great sign, I know, but it does mean I’m still elbow-deep in pastry most mornings.

And now we’re fully into mince pie season.

We bake the bread and butter pudding every day as usual, but now it’s the mince pies too. It’s become a quiet competition between the two , who sells out first. And the mince pies definitely win November and December. I’m not sure if anyone is actually interested in that fact, but there you go.

Anyway, there have been a few eventful moments recently.

The Flour in the Coffee Grinder

A few weeks ago, there was a big event in the Goods Shed. We knew around eighty people would be coming in beforehand for coffee and cake. So we were prepared. Calm. Organised.

And then, about five minutes (if that) before they all arrived, one of my staff poured an entire kilo of flour into the coffee grinder.

Yes.......flour.

This happened because I had put two kilo bags of coffee beans on top of the coffee machineas decoys, to stop customers leaning over the counter and helping themselves to cups. What a brilliant idea I thought… until that moment.

I had filled the bags with flour so the beans wouldn’t heat up.

Time honestly slowed down.
The bag lifted.
The grinder started.
The flour poured in.

I hate the coffee grinder.
Not its fault, it’s just… mechanical things are not my strength.

And then the doors opened and in came all eighty people at once.

It was like something out of a quiet British comedy where no one screams, but everyone knows what’s happening.

We got through it, with the James Gourmet Coffee team once again FaceTiming me through a grinder trauma like some sort of coffee emergency service.
But still,  an unforgettable moment.

The 25p Incident

Then there was the lady who became very upset about a 25p difference between the whiteboard price and the till. My fault, I hadn’t updated it.

She mentioned it the first time. We charged her the lower price.
Fine.

But then she came back the next week.
And I still hadn’t changed it. (I have a lot on and 25p was not at the top of my list.) She actually bellowed at Hannah D , who is always calm as anything, right in the face:

“YOU’VE DONE IT AGAIN!!!”

Hannah just blinked. Quiet. Polite. Wondering what exactly she had personally done wrong.

Safe to say all menu boards and tills are now in sync.

The Key Fob Lady

And then there was the key fob lady.
She’s a regular. Comes in for strawberry ice cream no matter the season.

She came to the counter, and I asked her what she’d like.
She leaned in and said:

“There is a crazy woman following me.”

“She’s been there all day. I can’t get rid of her.”

“She’s behind me, isn’t she?”

And just then, a little face did appear around the doorway with big brown eyes looking alarmed.

For a moment — I genuinely thought she was right.

I went to speak to the woman gently and privately.
And it turned out, she was her new carer.
It was her first day.
The poor girl was only trying to keep her safe.

We sorted it out, kindly, and all was well.

I made her coffee, and when it came time to pay, she handed me her car key fob as payment.

"Can I pay you with this?" she said, deadly serious.

“Er....No, lovely,” I said, “that’s your car keys. You’ll need those. Just bring it to me next time.”

I gave her the coffee anyway and off she went happy.

In the End

Flour in the grinder.
A shouting match over 25p.
Someone trying to pay with their car keys.

Nothing dramatic.
Nothing extraordinary.
Just the tiny, human moments that happen when you run a café and you open your doors to whoever walks in.

The staff carry on.
The cakes go out.
The coffee grinder grinds.
Someone laughs.
Someone sighs.
Someone tells you their whole life in the space of ordering a cappuccino.

Most days are somewhere between calm and absurd.

And honestly, I think that’s what I love about it.