I wonder if anyone reading this remembers when Lord Wraxhall of Tyntesfield died ten years ago? Leaving an enormous delapidated estate, it was wondered what would become of the magnificent house and its grounds. Suddenly, bizarrely, Kylie Minogue was named in a national newspaper as being in the running to take on the onerous responsibilty of ownership. And then it almost became fact. Except it didn't. The whole rumour had been started by a friend of mine who was working in a local pub at the time: he made up the story for a laugh!

The slightly scary part about this story is how quickly a whimsical idea injudiciously (or maliciously) uttered within earshot of an interested party can become common knowledge in a short space of time.

And this is what we find at The Food Hut: after five years we are even now being asked if we are the new owners? What's worse is that we are asked this by 'regulars', who obviously haven't visited for five years, and who have heard a rumour that the place has changed hands.

It does seem, in fact, that any unfamiliar face, particularly a mature one, brings on rumours of new ownership: all it takes is one person to say, 'He looks new. Have they changed management?', and we're off! It takes one person to say it, one person to hear it, and then the whole thing gets out of hand. It's nothing but a great big game of Chinese whispers really.

The problem is, once a rumour is out there, there's no getting rid of it, (unless you're Michael Heseltine), and you have to live with it. You also have to live with the ill-informed phone calls, the gossip, and the damage that all of these can do to staff morale. Consequently, a rumour can be plain daft, irritating, or wilfully cruel and harmful.

There's no right to reply. There's no way you can reply. You could take an advert out in a local paper, you could use your website, you could print endless posters. You could, actually, spend most of your working life trying to scotch rumours and trying to ensure that people are kept properly informed. But is it really worth it when whatever you do is merely likely to spawn even more silliness.

Over five years I've written newsletters, updated websites and even given interviews for local newspapers, and still it seems that if there are two ends to every stick, people will never grab the right one.

And so, with changes afoot at The Food Hut, please allow me to present a few FACTS:

TFH has not closed down: as far as I can tell we are still open seven days a week in two venues.

TFH is not closing down: we have left Golden Acres Nursery though, a little earlier than planned but when you’ve gotta go, you’ve gotta go.

We are moving to Cleeve Nursery. Well, we already have. We're now running the café there and have slowly started to introduce elements of our menu as well.

We're closing down. Not so at all. So far we have two alternative venues - the bus at Lye Cross to expand our party and function catering offering. So check our website for more info on that one.

So I hope this has clarified a few points. There are lots of points coming up and I can almost feel a blog outpouring in the offing.

Please keep reading. x

VAT - The Curse of the Small Business


The following is written on behalf of small business owners throughout the country. I had never intended the Food Hut Blog to be political in any way but some things just need to be said.

On the fourth of January, our Government is raising the VAT rate to 20%. That's only two and a half percent right? Wrong - in terms of a percentage of the current rate of 17.5%, the increase is more like 15%. and in terms of the extra cost in the supply chain, the price rises will be passed on many times.
Labour leader Ed Miliband has called the planned rise the "wrong tax, at the wrong time", and has said it will cost the average family £7.50 a week.

Mr Milliband’s concerns for lower income families and small businesses are well founded, and while his own party's record in helping vulnerable groups like families and small businesses are hardly laudable, he has hit the nail on the head. One of the problems with vat is that it is non-selective and unavoidable. Lower incomes pay the same rate as the average bonus sodden bank executive and obviously feel the pain more, and a small business with a turnover only fractionally above the VAT threshold will still pay 20% on it's entire turnover - a proportionally highr rate.

Allow me to elaborate: twenty percent of a million pound turnover is an awful lot of money, no doubt about that. But it is to be expected that the margins would be a little wider than in a smaller concern. But what about twenty percent of, say one hundred thousand pounds? Twenty thousand pounds! One fifth of that business's turnover. Leaving eighty thousand pounds to cover all overheads. Significantly less than before.
So in one fell swoop there go a portion of at least one person’s wages and staff lose their jobs, or have to work reduced hours.  The business owners lose goodwill and there goes customer service, and there, too, go the customers. Up go the prices, (realistically it should be more than the increase in VAT, because the business is paying for that tax rise all the way down the supply chain), and higher prices lead to fewer customers, because while everyone pays lip service to recognising that small businesses can’t absorb rising costs indefinitely, customers (and I count myself as one) don't really want to believe it, and businesses can’t run special offers all the time. We all believe that blood can still be extracted from a stone. Believe me it can't.

And this is what the new, caring, steadfast, cruel-to-be-kind government will find: small businesses will founder, unemployment will rise, demands on the welfare system will rise and everyone in this country will, in some way suffer. Some, disastrously.

So the next time you hear of Britain bailing out financial institutions while those same institutions manage to maintain their obscene bonus schemes, and the next time our country comes close to financial collapse, and noone comes forward to help us from overseas, ask yourself: is it really right for us all to pay, to pay again, and then continue to pay through the nose?

You may have realised by now that I’m not writing this from a businessman’s point of view - I don’t have the mind of a politician and my arguments are simplistic and emotional I admit. But I like to think I have a very strong sense of justice and fairness and I make no apology for the genuine concern I feel for my own and other businesses from the 4th January onwards. I am concerned for my staff: I have a responsibility to them. I am concerned for my business and I am concerned for my family: I have the biggest responsibility to them. But what more can I do if the government won't recognise the struggles that go on every single day in the small business sector? We need our ‘leaders’ to descend from their ivory towers and take note. We all need help sometimes, but I don't see any coming our way in the near or distant future.

But I believe that we can start this process by pressurising our MPs straight away.
Your MP will hold public surgeries within his or her constituency. Local newspapers always hold details of these, so perhaps it's now time to really start making our politicians work for us.

Please forward this blog to anyone who may have a comment to make, or who may share or even disagree with my sentiments.

I wish a Happy and Prosperous New Year to you all.

Doug Wort, Proprietor,
The Food Hut.

Monday 15th November.

First day of guinea pig week.
Yesterday we loaded the car with food from TFH, a microwave oven, drinks, tools, buckets and stools. Crockery, cutlery, curtains and cloths (alliteration unintended). This morning after the school run, Kate and I made our separate ways over to Dorothy. So very cold. So cold, in fact, that I swear there was condensation on the outside of her windows.
We then had to find homes for all the stuff: one small fridge and an even smaller freezer don't provide a great deal of space, and, that done, we await the hoards. Ok, while we are waiting, I decide that it's about time Kate learns to use the coffee machine. And, pat, they come. It always happens - as soon as I try to show someone how to do something, a customer shows up (this time it was only Penn, one of our bakers, but she did insist on talking to Kate about cakes, thus diluting the lesson). So at least Kate got to practise on a friend while I did important things like trying to level the freezer.

Well that was last Monday and now it's Friday. The signs are all in place, we nearly have a card machine, and I think I have figured out why the electricity kept cutting out on the second day (something to do with running a coffee machine, a water heater, an oven and pannini grill, a radiator and a fan heater, and two microwaves on a single ring main. It wasn't big. It wasn't impressive and as an attention seeking device, it was pretty lame. Anywayyyyy...)
We have served customers and it's cosy. So cosy that it's almost impossible not to eavesdrop on our customers' conversations (and I did enjoy discussing Miranda Hart with some lovely lady guinea pigs - tip: if you've never watched 'Miranda' on BBC, make the effort, it's a work of joyful genius!).
So my little jobs are nearly done and today I handed Dorothy over to the tender ministrations of the wonderful Sue and the very tender Vicky (I know she's tender because she seems to be the one who always bandages me up when I cut myself at work - I go green and pass out. Everyone else laughs but Vicky buys sweets (blood sugar) and drives me to the hospital. **sigh**)
so where was I? Ah yes. Me back at cafe hoping that Vicky and sue are being gentle with Dot, and Vicky and Sue (and Kate) having lots of customers. Smashing.
Now we are ready for our Monday opening and I can't wait. It's been hard work, but not too stressful. Sue's done a brilliant job holding the fort at TFHHQ (bit Fearnley Wittingstall don't you think?) and I have to start thinking about food once again. I have missed cooking but I've also really enjoyed being practical: painting, designing signs, fitting them, electrical thingies, and trying to get to know a big green bus called Dorothy.

PS if we ever do this again, I might have to call it Gary. (a free cream tea to the first person to get the reference, but you have to leave a comment on our guest book page, and you can't be a member of staff. Oh, and you'll have to wait until next spring.

PPS good luck for this weekend, Rosie. I'm sure you'll love it. Working on Dorothy, that is.

PPPS please pass on our website and Facebook details to anyone who may be interested. Thanks x

I had wanted to write so many more blogs about the progress of Dorothy but the distractions of actually doing the job has meant that I’ve had little time for such frivolities, so here's a brief update on how we got to today:

Dorothy late leaving workshop. Last minute panic trying to get a driver to get her to LXF involving an eighty mile round trip to get some trade plates to allow a driver to legally drive her. We leave Tudor trailers with me following a little after. I catch up with D parked up in a lay-by, the driver’s cabin steamed up and rusty water gushing out of a valve at floor level creating a delicious pool of water for the driver to soak his feet in, and a nice little polluted stream leading the way to the doors. We had nothing to mop up the mess with so Steve the driver paddled around a bit and got on the road again. This time I was close behind, watching carefully for any sign of steam billowing from the drivers window. The rest of the journey passed without incident and we eventually installed ourselves at LXF.

The last few days as follows: rain. Cleaning inside. No painting. Rain. Trapped nerve in back - very painful. Moving bus out of sight in the rain as not looking good as a blue bus when she should have been green. Michele arriving to help. and laughing. Power washing in the rain. Giving up because they're rubbish. Washing the bus with cold water and a sponge scourer to get the encrusted algae and moss off. Balancing on the top of step ladders in the rain with bucket of water in one hand and sponge in the other, and a very bad back by now.
Spending whole weekend worrying abut the weather and getting the painting done.  Back excruciating!
Back gets better. Painting gets done. D now green. Hammerite. Nice.
Seats done, Dorothy moved back into position, camp little lights installed. Cute.

Friday - no water - worried. Coffee machine needing to be installed. Still no water. Very worried. Dan the plumber arrives. WATER!! COFFEE!! So happy I go out and get a hangover. Next day have to level Dorothy with a friend who also has a hangover. We break several paving stones. Preposterous. But Dorothy is level-ish and looking much better. Now all I have to do before our first Guinea Pig Monday is get the masking tape off which has chilled itself onto the new paintwork.
Dear reader……….please await the next thrilling etc etc.

The work has been ongoing for over a week now. The sub-floor that has been laid to counter Dorothy’s sponginess in certain areas has lengthened the job and we are finding that even small tasks like replacing floor panels can take ages. Bearing in mind that ‘D’ day or ‘Delivery day’ or ‘Dorothy day’ is next Monday, I had thought that things may have progressed a little further. But the fact that Ali at Tudor Trailers is still confident that Monday is not unrealistic, makes me think that we are the ones that will have an awful lot of work to do to make Dorothy habitable and not them.
I am seeing signs that Dorothy will soon look the part: the floor and trims are looking good. The tables are done and they look fab. I've only covered one seat so far but I can tell that the upholstery will look great with everything else.
Today I took Louis, my youngest along to see how the job was progressing. Most parents of small children will recognise that there is a very limited period of grace as far as a child's tolerance of adult matters is concerned. Lou was brilliant: he didn't interrupt my discussions with Ali once, and he made several letters out of the offcuts of flooring that were lying around. Mostly U's but at least he was happy. He was even happier when I got the camera out: a picture of him in the driver's seat,











a picture of him where the kitchen will be,
A picture of me (taken by him) of me trying not to look too self conscious posing right in the middle of the bus and another of me at the drivers seat.
I haven't seen them yet and am wondering if my head has been removed in some faintly Oedipal act. (Actually I have seen them now and am pleased that Louis hasn't decapitated me)
Exciting thought: I might get a chance to use my ace steam cleaner on Dorothy when all the construction work is complete. Roll on!

I spent the day with Dorothy today. I knew that I needed to be with her: we'll be spending a lot of time together soon and we needed to start our relationship somewhere.

So I was gentle with her and started by trying out a little external makeover with some nice green Hammerite. Just a strip. Just to see how it behaved. It looked bloody awful: runny, dribbly and patchy. So that's one thing for the mental shopping list. A roller.

Indoors - what a mess. Has this bus ever been loved, I wondered. Almost certainly not, but are buses ever loved really? I suppose there’s not too much that’s lovable about a bus.

Mental shopping list then: rubber gloves, detergent, cleaning sponges, packet of crisps and a sandwich. Oh, and some masking tape and a paint roller for the next coat of Hammerite.

Bucket of water and spray on cleaner. Some of the wall panels look a little better now but they need scouring to really look their best. The windows need cleaning, the window frames and seals need cleaning. The radiator grills need buffing up and so do ALL the aluminium trims. The driver's cabin needs cleaning and beautifying and the seats need reupholstering. The seat frames have to be repainted and the hand rails need to have a coat of dark green.
And I am wondering, have we undertaken a conversion or a renovation?

Graham Tudor and his team start work on Dorothy next Monday, a week later than originally scheduled. They are starting by laying a new floor, hopefully taking care of the more 'flexible' areas of floor that seem to be dotted around (holes). And I am really hoping that the leaky heating pipe will have stopped leaking by then - I don't want my nice new clean floor to be stained with rusty water days after being laid. Then they can lay out the seating plan and then start work on the kitchen area. I hope it won't be too small: I'm not small and I would hate for anyone to get the wrong idea if a colleague and I were pressed against each other during the execution of our duties.....!
Well I think it's only fair to hope for some recompense for all this work, don't you?

Tip: imagine Phil Mitchell

‘So how will I spot you?’ asked Bernard, the driver. I tapped the side of my nose, ’Don't worry I’ll be waiting for you, you can't miss me. When you leave the motorway at the end of the slip road, look out for a small Peugot. It’s got a bunny on the back.’ ‘Er right you are‘, said Bernard, ‘see you there’. ‘Right. And Bernard. Keep it quiet: I don't want to be seen. And don't forget your spare plates‘. Click - the phone went dead.

So there I was: a Tuesday lunchtime in a layby on a roundabout just off the M5, waiting for a blue and white Leyland Bluebird to roll up the slip road on it's way to becoming Dorothy, the Food Hut Bus.

And then, at exactly the agreed time, there she was, ready for me to lead her and Bernard to the yard where the conversion is to take place.

Ten minutes later, we pulled into Tudor Trailers for a few photos and for me to learn to drive a bus backwards and forwards (well someone‘s going to have to do it). Great fun! I went forwards really slowly. And then I went backwards really slowly. And then I went forwards and backwards really slowly. And then parked next to the white Peugot with the bunny on the back.

A couple of Sundays ago, my wife, two sons and I were in Ikea in Bristol just in time for Sunday lunch (have you ever tried their hotdogs? Terrific!). Normally I would have fish and chips because I LOVE fish and chips, but on this occasion I thought maybe I'd try something different. I noticed a chicken breast and pasta dish on the menu and decidied to give it a go, despite my reluctance to eat pasta anywhere that isn't an Italian restaurant or my own dining room - it's always overcooked, unseasoned and foul. Well it was OK: smallish piece of chicken breast - quite tasty. Pasta just about passable with some vegetables thrown in to keep the 'five a day' mob quiet.

'I wonder if I could do better than this?' I thought. The next few days had ideas crawling around in my head: pasta, yes, penne. Sauce? How about a loose roux flavoured with Vermouth and some herbs? But what herbs? Tarragon! Brilliant! How to appease the 'five a day's'? Roasted fennel would go quite well with the tarragon, I thought. Maybe a little seared courgette for texture and gentleness? That'll do for the sauce.

Now for the chicken... I didn't really want to just have a lump of breast meat on the plate and so, remembering how popular meatballs are in Ikea (and Sweden) decided that minced chicken thigh (succulent and tasty) mixed with generous seasoning and large quantities of dill (one of my favourite herbs) and formed into little chicken balls would probably do the job nicely. It did the job very nicely indeed thank you very much.

Then came the cooking of the dish.....I'd made up the meatball mix and was happy with that so I needed to start on the sauce. I played this one by ear mostly but by the time the tarragon had gone in, I knew it was a winner - pasta with the sauce alone would have been fab. Pasta with the sauce and vegetables even fabber. But pasta with the sauce, vegetables and chicken balls with a little chopped parsley to finish off was a joy. There was a great deal of yumming and aah-ing in TFH kitchen when I let m'colleagues loose on it (apart from the vegetarians, poor things), and so it found its way onto the menu as one of my new favourites. But what a shame we've had a quiet week. Maybe the world would be a better place if everyone tried this dish! (ok so I'm delusional)

So to conclude: is there such a thing as a Swedish chicken? I have no idea but if there is, it certainly has very tasty balls.