Family run

Thanks for all the advice and suggestions and yes, the 5 seater it is going to be and –for the first time ever – a new one. I have decided, that doesn’t mean, I’m growing up. Growing up is still optional!!

The magnificent weather was going to be the topic this week, the wonderful fact that I  fixed the washing line and market cloth, tea towels and aprons were drying in the sun.  However, as we speak they are being washed on the line by a fairly serious shower and sunhine is no longer on the agenda and not worth talking about. 

After the bread round last Saturday, I was very tired, delighted with the week and progress but tired and in the throws of  a head cold. That is to say, I finished the market in Carlow in blissful sunshine, sold out to lovely customers and came home to feeling sorry for myself and dumping on the long suffering family. “Family- run” is just one of many terms associated with small businesses, terms that have been discovered by the advertising industry and have – in many respects – become meaningless as everyone wants a bite of the “look at me – I’m small and beautiful”  cherry. I will rant on about artisan and home made some other time but today, I’d like to thank the family, not only mine but the family of every truely family run business who put up with so much, carry so much and tolerate even more. It is not always the work – even though that can seem never ending -  it is more the being dumped on by the hysterically overworked person whose idea the whole thing was and who as soon as you come into sight, wants to know why you are not doing anything. Kicking a ball around becomes an offence as easily as doing your homework, studying for the exams or – God forbid – sitting down to watch a match. A tiny television tucked into a corner, is not small enough and staying out in study until 9 in the evening is not long enough. 4 years into the grand bakehouse adventure, life is slowly settling down from the really hystericall to the the manageble. In a good week, all going to plan, life is good and the light at the end of the tunnel is startling and bright. But it takes little to tip the balance back into manic and relaxing around me is never a good idea. 

So thanks to the 14 year old, who routinely takes over in the evening when the clean up becomes too much and gives up his Saturday lie in for an early shift from 4 to 7. Thanks to the leaving cert student who is always there to fill in, always there as back up and always the calming influence when it should be him that’s getting nervous. Thanks to the student who comes back after a long week in the water and on her feet as a waitress to turn around and write invoices and do the bread round. Thanks to the other student who’ll deliver bread when he can and does the chopping and cleaning, who takes on the pay roll, the web site and the general  computer illiteracy that abounds in this business and thanks to the long suffering husband who never questioned the wisdom of starting a business in a recession, who calmy accepts that most things are his fault and who still asks “ what can I do? - when he so rarely get a polite answer. Thanks to them all when they understand that when I rant and give out, I am really quietly and politely asking for help. 

So – once a year – I say thanks and will try and make amends. 

Now, that that’s done, there are still the garden furniture that need to be painted, the grass cut, the dishes to be done and the advent wreath from before christmas is still sitting on a chair out back. Why is there clothes on the floor and wellie boots in the kitchen? are the dogs fed and the chickens mucked out? Surely there isn’t more sport on tv tonight and are you really going for another cycle......... seriously?