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Some of the place and table settings have been inspired by the couple's favourite place, their favourite movie or a favourite TV programme. The music choices were always interesting. A particularly memorable selection at one wedding was the film score from Jaws instead of 'Here Comes the Bride'. You get a real insight into the couple on such a personal occasion. We are all different.
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Even the names on the seating plans are interesting. I sometimes look down the list for any Keiths. They always prove to be well into their fifties. The only younger Keith I know of is Keith Lemon and I wonder if that is just his stage name. We Keiths are of our time.
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One of the activities I always find difficult to understand is decorating the place with bunting. I hate bunting. I have now seen hundreds of different designs and colours of bunting, even knitted bunting. It would appear that people think that laughter, enjoyment and continual fun is bound to follow if bunting is hanging from trees or rafters. I just do not get it. It appears that some people think that a lovely glade of trees, under planted with beautiful flowers, can only be brought to life by hanging gaudy and garish pieces of cloth, cut in v shapes and attached by white, very visible string.
This bunting is usually hung by smiling staff who cannot help beaming because they, unlike me, love bunting. I have noticed that everyone who sees it remarks on the beauty of the bunting. Everyone that is, except that miserable Keith, who suffers from bunting phobia. Perhaps it was something that happened to me in my childhood. I sometimes wonder if all Keiths feel the same way. Maybe it’s an age thing.
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Another aspect of weddings at Crook Hall is that the guests have to find their way around a rather unusual site. This has sometimes presented problems. On one occasion a member of staff observed an elderly gentleman emerging from our coal shed and adjusting his clothing. He looked a little perturbed and muttered to our startled staff member that he appreciated that the building was old but he did think that the toilets needed some updating.
Our weddings usually take place in the Medieval Hall which has large fabric curtains hanging in the doorways. Our staff often hover behind the curtains when speeches or the ceremony are taking place, ready to assist with any last minute requests. At one of the weddings a guest was asked to switch off a light by the photographers. The guest obediently put his hand through the curtain to feel for the light switch. Unfortunately his groping fingers missed the switch and alighted upon the breast of our general manager. She stood shocked and motionless. She wondered what on earth was happening. The guest’s hand continued to search around for the switch. Failing to find it, he popped his head through the curtain and was horrified to realise what he was holding. He apologised profusely. I think his embarrassment stayed with him for a good while.
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Pricing is sometimes difficult. More than once we have found out we were selling something at a loss without even knowing. One week we needed champagne and forgot to order the required bottles. I had to pop out to buy some from a local supermarket. We ended up selling them at a loss.
I remember explaining our wedding pricing structure to the father of a bride to be. He was phoning in advance of coming to look at the Hall with his daughter. I recall the conversation almost verbatim;
I explained the cost of the venue hire.
He responded by saying, “'ow much?”
I repeated the price.
“Bloody ’ell,” he retorted, “Does it include drinks?”
“No, that would be extra.”
“Bloody ’ell, does it include food?”
“No, that would be extra as well.”
“Bloody ’ell, you won’t have many bookings will you?”
I informed him we were fully booked this year and almost booked up for next year. His predictable response was “Bloody ’ell.”
The conversation finished and I was left with a vision of him discussing it with his family around the kitchen table. All of them saying in unison to each of his points,
“Bloody ’ell.”
* * *
At one wedding I walked down to check the fires and I came across one of the bridesmaids who was in floods of tears.
I stopped and asked her, “Can I help in any way?”
She responded by saying, “No there is nothing you can do. There is nothing anyone can do. I am getting married in three weeks and…”
I wondered what was coming next, was she having second thoughts?
She went on to explain, “I am getting married somewhere else and now I have seen this I want to get married here.”
Now that is the sort of feedback that makes you feel it is all worthwhile. I remember the words she uttered even if I can no longer picture her or which wedding she attended. Thank you, young lady. I certainly hope you had a wonderful wedding wherever it was held.
* * *
How romantic; organising an afternoon tea and proposing to the one you love over cakes and champagne. This was the plan when a young suitor booked a table, ordered a bottle of champagne and invited his loved one along. Everyone was made aware of the young man’s plans. Every one that is, except the future fiancé. She did not accept. Indeed there appeared to be an argument after which she got up and left. On her way out our head waiter asked her if we would be seeing her again.
She shouted, “No but you might be seeing him again. With someone else.”
What on earth had happened? Embarrassment all around.
* * *
A couple had booked the venue for their wedding. I was concerned when they did not contact us to plan their day. I rang them fearing that the wedding may have been cancelled.
The bride explained that there was just going to be the two of them, no guests, and asked if we could provide a witness and take some photographs. I was left wondering if this was an arranged marriage. When the day came it was an emotional, intimate ceremony. The couple then had a lovely afternoon tea in the gazebo followed by a stroll around the gardens. I was curious as to why they were on their own. They made no secret of this and were happy to tell me. They said that they had booked their wedding three times and each time one of their senior relatives could not make it. First time Auntie Madge and last time Uncle Timothy. They had had enough and decided they would never be able to please everyone so they decided to just go ahead in secret. Job done. I understood their situation.
* * *
Couples often leave items they no longer need after their wedding day. These range from table decorations to glasses and crockery and on one occasion bottles of lager. In this last case the couple had paid for more lager than they needed for the day. I think they had upwards of a 100 bottles left. I told them they were welcome to take the lager home. The groom had his eyes on the bottles and suggested that there would be plenty of space for them in their garage. The bride was adamant that we had to keep them; we could drink them, sell them or even throw them away but there was no way her new husband was going to have them in their garage. I think she had visions of him spending more time in the garage than in the house. In the first few weeks of marriage this was a non-starter. He looked very disappointed as she suggested that he should look on it as a tip to us for all our hard work. He looked resigned to the dry few weeks ahead of him.
* * *
We warn parents to keep an eye on their children because of dangers such as the very deep pond. However, the little ones sometimes get away from supervising parents. One boy got more than he bargained for when he sneaked up into our private quarters. Maggie had retired to bed early, leaving me to help the team downstairs. Suddenly she heard footsteps outside the bedroom door. Alarmed she leapt out of bed, not even stopping to put a dressing gown on over her white nightdress. When Maggie suddenly appeared in the shadowy hallway the young boy was terrified. He thought she was The White Lady. His
reaction reminded Maggie of the young actor Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone. His jaw dropped in total amazement, his eyes opened to twice the size they should naturally be, and his arms shot up into the air. He screamed his head off. Maggie reached to take his arm and reassure him and said, “Where is your mother?” I am not sure what he heard as he let out a blood curdling yell and made a very sharp exit. He learnt a lesson that night – keep close to mum until you are sure of your surroundings. I think we may have lost a visitor to our Halloween events.
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Running your own business can sometimes lead to conflict situations with others. No truer is this than with suppliers, especially wedding suppliers who have difficulty understanding who the customer is. They often have two – the couple and us. One such person set up some games which proved to be very popular with the guests. Maybe too popular. The lawn underneath was ruined. The supplier could not give a damn. I bore the cost of relaying the lawn but told him we would not have him or his business on the site again. Funnily enough two years later I spotted our newly appointed general manager, Nicola, sitting in the courtyard talking to this supplier. When I approached he did not seem to recognise me. I reminded him of our past discussions and then asked him to leave as I had not been joking the last time we met. Poor Nicola was a bit taken aback but understood when I later explained.
Thank goodness these incidents are few and far between. Our weddings have been a delight. We have really enjoyed sharing our house with all these happy couples and it is a privilege to be part of their celebrations. I tend to remember those events that are out of the ordinary but some of the sights have become more familiar; people enjoying themselves in the sunshine, having their wedding breakfast in the Medieval Hall, sipping champagne outside in the gardens, a bride and groom cutting their wedding cake under the apple tree. We did not realise that from these small beginnings we would go on to hold over eighty weddings a year. We have now hosted over 600 weddings in the Hall and the magic, romance and excitement never seem to fade.
* * *
One of our more recent weddings was that of our daughter. Her planning started with choosing a date. We broke the news to her that our calendar was booked up for two years. I cannot remember how the conversation went but the only availability was New Year’s Eve. What a great choice! It was the best New Year’s party I have ever attended. What’s more it rolled over into a New Year’s lunch in our new Garden Gate Café. Now both our children have been married at the Hall. What a joy.
9
Events And Visits
Children love Crook Hall. They are enchanted as they wander around the gardens, exploring all the nooks and crannies. They are fascinated or scared by the ghosts, delighted with the wildlife and can have great fun running off all their energy doing the treasure hunts on event days or finding their way around the maze.
From a child’s point of view the whole Crook Hall experience is a cross between Puddle Lane and The Secret Garden, with a smattering of other cherished children’s adventure stories. We are very low tech so children can use their imagination and they find the place a source of fantasy. It is not a museum; it is a vibrant environment with families enjoying the atmosphere of the place. Maggie, with her background in education, was able to design activities and games the children would enjoy. She also organised the decorating of the tower rooms for our Fairy Tale event when Snow White, The Big Bad Wolf and Little Red Riding Hood take up residence. The events prove to be very popular and our staff, including myself, don costumes to entertain the children.
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The first Easter we ran an event the temperature reached the upper eighties, almost unheard of at that time of year. I was the Easter Bunny and boy was that costume hot. I sweated as I had never sweated before. I swear I lost a stone in weight. People would have paid good money to do the workout I had that weekend, and the results showed as I had to literally tighten my belt on the Tuesday after the Bank Holiday Monday.
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The following Easter was cooler. Against my better judgement Maggie persuaded me to don the rabbit suit and race around the gardens yet again. I was doing my best to bring passion to this important role of the ‘Easter Bunny’. Difficult, because being pursued by over-enthusiastic children while dressed in a ridiculous costume of thick fur is not much fun. I made the mistake of going down to the entrance to the gardens. We were busy. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves and, on the face of it, even the grumpy man in the rabbit suit was joining in the fun.
Then disaster struck. Someone approached with a very large Alsatian. We do not normally let dogs into the garden but there was no stopping this one on seeing me in my costume. It launched itself, teeth first, through the gate. The growling snarls and open mouth were directed at the legs of this, by now, very timid, retiring white rabbit.
Some might say, “Oh well, the dog was scared.”
This may well be true but not half as scared as I was. Only the quick thinking and brute strength of the owner prevented me from losing a bite sized chunk of leg. My leg! I beat a hasty retreat up the garden path trying to look cool and relaxed, an impossible task. The hound of the Baskerville’s growls rang in my ears as I passed children clambering to be entertained. Forget that. I had my eyes firmly on an escape route. Once in the sanctuary of the Hall I retired upstairs to our private accommodation. I removed the head of the costume and looked in the mirror.
I had that ‘just left the gym’ look about me. What a carry on! Here I was, forty-five years old, dressed up as a bunny. What was I doing? Had it really come to this? I used to be an HR manager, working in a FTSE 500 company. I had run my own, very successful, management consultancy. And now? I was spending my weekend getting dressed up as a rabbit and being chased by Alsatians. Was I mad? Most probably.
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At some events we have stories and games, and some children are invited to leave messages to The White Lady or wishes on the wishing tree. Whenever they come they can look for the troll under the bridge, the imps, the fairies or the grumpy gardener (the stone one not me) which are all hidden in and around the gardens.
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Our Fairy Tale week is very important to us, and very appropriate. The wife of Dr Raine who lived here in the 1800s was Margaret Raine. She completed the first English translation of Grimms' Fairy Tales. One of our theatre groups, the Pantaloons, staged the play The Brothers Grimm. The Raines would have been pleased to have shared that evening, but, if you believe in ghosts, maybe they did.
When we first ran our Fairy Tale week we started on a small scale. My god-daughter, Jocelyn, took on the role of a fairy in the garden as well as working in the café along with our daughter Amanda and her friends. Mark (aka the bird man) seemed to be everywhere – moving tables, setting tables, serving people, washing up and also taking the part of The Big Bad Wolf.
The first day we were busy. All the scones went. The following day was incredible and we were even busier and we ran out of scones again. It seemed that the word in Durham was that Crook Hall was running a magical event.
By the last Sunday numbers had climbed beyond our wildest imaginings. It was now chaotically busy and we could not get the scones out fast enough. The systems we had set up on the first day were tested and strained to the limits. So too were our staff. Maggie discovered Mark lying in the turret dressed as the wolf, his legs in the air, his head in his hands and the wolf mask discarded beside him. He was sweating profusely and looked like a broken man rather than a scary wolf. He was genuinely exhausted. However, he was determined that the show would go on, so, groaning, he hauled himself to his feet, donned the mask and went back on stage with Little Red Riding Hood.
As we grew our business we began to recruit actors for some of these parts, much to the relief of our hard working staff. This was a great success. Our first professionally staffed event was our Alice in Wonderland Day. The Queen of Hearts chased the White
Rabbit and Alice around the gardens with gusto. That evening one of the actors was recognised as Alice in the local Tesco by a group of youngsters who asked her for her autograph. She felt as if she had acquired celebrity status.
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With all events, our approach was to start on a small scale and then wait to see if the event would catch the imagination of the public. Our ‘Theatre in the Garden’ events started slowly but then became one of the highlights of the year. The same could not be said for one of our favourite events. Candlelight Night. For this we lit the Hall and Gardens with over a thousand candles. Visitors were invited to wander through the candlelit woodland glades to the accompaniment of live music. We thought it was truly magical. However, every year we had poor turnouts. We would walk around the candlelit gardens after the visitors had left, enchanted, and think surely next year it will be a sell-out. No such luck. I think we ran it at a loss for six or seven years before reluctantly abandoning it. We could never persuade the public to see it in the same way as we viewed it. Disappointing but we had to ditch it.
* * *
The cacophony of the dawn chorus is a sound I always love. A real delight. We opened the Hall one morning at 5.20am and arranged for an expert from the RSPB to come along. He identified the sounds and pointed out the birds, telling us which bird was making which call. A fascinating nature trail.
Maggie made a cooked breakfast for everyone which was thoroughly enjoyed by all. Small beginnings indeed but far too early. I think we both enjoy our sleep too much to make it an annual event. If I wake early I sometimes wander around the garden enjoying the dawn chorus. A real joy, although I know that if I want to follow the stroll with a cooked breakfast I will be the one doing the cooking.
Blood, Sweat and Scones Page 11