Several readers have pointed out that my “So You Want to be an Innkeeper” blog has little or nothing to do with innkeeping. Hang on. I hear murmuring. Did you think you were the only reader? I have quite a few, as it happens, and not all of them relatives.
But to the point: well, look, it’s not as if I entitled it “How to Fit Your Own Pacemaker in 4 Easy Steps” and then didn’t deliver the goods. Innkeeping isn’t specific. Innkeeping is loose. Once you figure out how to live a life under a pile of laundry bigger than a Wall Street bonus it’s pretty easy, really. People come. People go. You stay. If this sounds appealing, why then, innkeeping is for you. Early on in your new career you will learn how to deter those guests who will louse up the karma of your particular establishment. Here at Blue Skye we don’t sing folk songs with our guests, we don’t have mystery weekends and chocolate tastings, and there is no television. By not offering those things we manage to avoid hundreds of boring, needy and unimaginative guests. It has been pointed out to me by more successful innkeepers that this translates into a lot of money I haven’t earned. And truthfully, around the middle of February when the thought of paying for the heating oil just delivered brings me out in hives, I do sometimes wonder if perhaps I put off rather more people than necessary. But these thoughts are fleeting. I like to think that those few oddballs who find Blue Skye and enjoy it are grateful it exists in all its plainness. (I admit to an element of British understatement here. Blue Skye is in fact wonderful if it’s the sort of wonderful you like.) And I in turn enjoy the conversation and opinions my guests bring to my breakfast table. There. Innkeeping 101.
What's this got to do with Jack Russells, you may ask. Absolutely nothing. But I'm told that if you mention your dog in your blog that lots of people read it. I'll let you know how that works out.
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