(no subject)
When I was little, one of my favourite imagination games involved being the hostess of a makebelieve hotel.
Once upon a time, it was the Killoran Lodge and cottages, and the back field/woods were a campground. My grand-parents ran it for several years (well before my time), and much of it was renovated into a single-occupancy family home long ago. However, little things like the bar (possessing sink without running water), and the swinging door between the kitchen and diningroom, remain. I am sitting at the old office desk which once governed check-ins and check-outs.
So I used to pretend I was the innkeeper/waitress. I'd use old cookbooks as my menu (Weight Watcher's, in fact), and I'd make visitors fill out orders. I'd usually bring them back crackers or cookies. Most of it was the fun of using that swinging door! I wish I had witnessed some of the old days here. If I could inherit this house (or some day buy it!) before my parents randomly sell it to some rich, reno-happy people from away . . . I would be tempted to reopen the place as a B&B. I'd bring back the old name, apply for heritage building status (I think my parents should now), and have huge gardens in honour of my grandmother's spirit.
However, since pigs don't fly, I'll just have to be happy working in an inn and trying to imagine what the industry must have been like for my grandmother, who arguably did all the major work. I also get to have my first party out here since I was 18, as my very private/shy parents have flown off to Newfoundland for the week. Nothing big, and probably quite tame, but I'll have friends camping in the yard or sleeping in spare rooms.
This will be my free B&B weekend.
Once upon a time, it was the Killoran Lodge and cottages, and the back field/woods were a campground. My grand-parents ran it for several years (well before my time), and much of it was renovated into a single-occupancy family home long ago. However, little things like the bar (possessing sink without running water), and the swinging door between the kitchen and diningroom, remain. I am sitting at the old office desk which once governed check-ins and check-outs.
So I used to pretend I was the innkeeper/waitress. I'd use old cookbooks as my menu (Weight Watcher's, in fact), and I'd make visitors fill out orders. I'd usually bring them back crackers or cookies. Most of it was the fun of using that swinging door! I wish I had witnessed some of the old days here. If I could inherit this house (or some day buy it!) before my parents randomly sell it to some rich, reno-happy people from away . . . I would be tempted to reopen the place as a B&B. I'd bring back the old name, apply for heritage building status (I think my parents should now), and have huge gardens in honour of my grandmother's spirit.
However, since pigs don't fly, I'll just have to be happy working in an inn and trying to imagine what the industry must have been like for my grandmother, who arguably did all the major work. I also get to have my first party out here since I was 18, as my very private/shy parents have flown off to Newfoundland for the week. Nothing big, and probably quite tame, but I'll have friends camping in the yard or sleeping in spare rooms.
This will be my free B&B weekend.