John Searancke came to the role of hotelkeeper almost accidentally, and most definitely with much reluctance. After his parents’ marriage fell apart, he was dragooned in, at the age of 22, to pick up the pieces of their new venture, a barely-trading country house hotel that had, frankly, seen better days. Not only was it posting an annual loss, but the fabric of the building was crumbling and there was no money left to make improvements.
There were to be battles royal with neighbours not wanting their status quo to be altered, and with the local fire authority who sought to impose draconian new safety measures.
Over the years, and with the steepest of learning curves, the grand old building was renovated and transformed to meet the requirements of the modern discerning traveller. Accolades for the hotel and its restaurant were won; together they became a well-regarded destination for a number of celebrities – and those that deemed themselves to be celebrities but were not. Stories abound featuring idiosyncratic guests, overbearing public bodies, fractured family life and animals of all shapes and sizes. The local fire station next door was demolished one foggy night, people were frightened by flying dogs and snakes in the long grass, and there were, as befits a country house, strange goings on in the night. Many were the guests who checked in who really should not have been seen together.
A rescue mission originally thought of as lasting for a year or two turned into a 35 year lifetime love affair with a beautiful old building. This is a tribute to all the people behind the scenes who helped to make the hard-won transformation into a great success.
Targeted Age Group:: 40 – 80
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
The memoir of my working life as a memory to my son.
Book Sample
Mother was of a certain age by now, and charitably, one had to assume the worst when confronted by statements such as that. But she was very convinced, and after a moment or two it brought to my mind that the elderly couple who were occupying an upstairs bedroom had indeed got two dogs. Moreover, on investigation, I could see that same couple in the lounge placidly demolishing some cucumber sandwiches with their pot of Earl Grey, sans their dogs. So, throwing caution to the winds, I galloped outside in time to see the aforesaid two small dogs busily shaking themselves in a flower bed after having broken their fall by landing from upstairs in a large bush.
They looked at me rather sheepishly, and then cast about, wondering what they should do next. Even for them, it must have been a bit of an adventure, though they did look decidedly embarrassed.
No harm was done, other than to the immaculately topiarised bush, and the dogs were soon reunited with their owners, or “parents” as the elderly couple referred to themselves, ready for nibbles of cucumber sandwiches.
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