St Cuthbert's House

The mysterious art of Marketing

2011-04-30T12:26:00.003+01:00

We’ve written here before about our struggle to fully understand the complexities of ‘marketing’ our business. The recent Awards success has given us some good stories in the local and regional papers, but getting exposure on the national stage - so that you might read about us, wherever you live, and be inspired to come to stay - is very difficult.

We’re learning to be on the lookout for opportunities for a good story, even though it isn’t quite instinctive yet. But when a policewoman knocked on our door just now (don’t ask, it's complicated…) Jill said ‘see if we can get a picture of her at the door, there must be a story in it’. She makes me so proud.

So yesterday, I was filled with admiration for a small dressmaking company. They got a prominent slot in prime-time lunchtime BBC news; the story was that they would have a replica of the Royal Wedding dress - which the watching world had seen just two hours earlier - available to purchase, within three days. The owner was interviewed at length, talking about the one item of braid which might prove difficult to replicate quickly, but assuring those brides-to-be that they would be able buy the dress on Monday. It doesn’t matter if they can’t of course, because she’s had some national publicity for her business which money simply could not buy, and which is very difficult to achieve. I’ve no idea how she wangled the opportunity, but I bet she’s woken up this morning to a pretty full order book - because she saw an opportunity and seized it. Well done her! Has that policewoman left yet?

Silver at the National Awards!

2011-04-29T18:36:00.004+01:00

It’s been a really busy week here, so we're finally able make a few minutes to write about our fun weekend in Birmingham last week, at the EnjoyEngland Awards bash, where we had been shortlisted as a finalist in the Guest Accommodation category. It was amazing to get that far – the contenders for the final shortlist were all winners of their respective Regional Award, so the competition were all very high quality businesses.

So imagine our delight at receiving the Silver Award – second place! It took our breath away…

We’ve written before how we find this whole Awards thing a bit of a dilemma; in many ways it’s not ‘us’ to be seeking attention. Yet, on the other hand, we see the value of them in helping guests choose a good quality place to stay, when there is a lot of competition seeking their business! So we are delighted to have been honoured in this way, and will do all we can to trumpet it from the rooftops!

As we were receiving our award from Lady Cobham – who seemed able to be genuinely pleased for everyone she had to pose with – she told me mine was the best bow-tie of the evening. So, that was another accolade then.

Quivering excitement here

2011-04-12T20:20:00.001+01:00

We're really excited about this Friday's National Awards Final in Birmingham, when we find out who's won the 'Best B&B in England 2011' - and it could be us!
I think there's little doubt we'll be the best turned-out finalists... Jill's dress is fabulous, and she hand-picked a fantastic new silk bow-tie for me today. Hey - we'll have a dress rehearsal and post a picture here!
If you're following us on Twitter @cuthbertshouse we'll be tweeting live from the event on Friday evening. Almost as good as being there. Except you don't get to eat. So, not that good really.

Customer Service Is Everything

2011-03-26T21:20:00.007Z

Working in the guest accommodation business probably makes us hypersensitive to issues of customer service, and we notice good and bad examples wherever we go.

However, the term ‘Very Bad Customer Service’ has reached new depths as far as I'm concerned, in my recent dealings with the Student Loans Company. I won't bore you with the detail - the short story is that there has been an issue with Hannah's application, and they have asked for some information from us. We've sent it, of course - twice - and if I was into conspiracy theories, I could easily believe that they have deliberately set out to wind me up.

For a month now, I've been calling every two or three days. This is because, in nearly every call, they tell me my problem has been referred to someone who can solve it within 48 hours. Last week Billy told me - they always begin by giving their first name, as if that makes us chums - that despite all the things I'd ever been told, it hadn't actually been referred anywhere. However, he was determined to sort it for me. He would personally ensure that the Resolve team had our problem brought to them, and they would sort it out within 48 hours. He would call me tomorrow on my mobile phone at 4.30pm to give me a progress report. He was so serious that he even told me his surname was Hutchinson, and this had never happened before, so I think he really believed he could do something. Maybe he's new.

He didn't call. I did. Andrew told me No, I couldn't speak to Billy Hutchinson. He could see my notes on his screen though, and our case didn't seem to have been referred anywhere. He could refer it for me, and the team would resolve it within 48 hours. I asked to speak to his supervisor. That wasn't possible. But Andrew, I'm so frustrated, I need to make a complaint. Ah well, I'll need to get someone to call you. Yes, today. Definitely. They will. They will!

Guess what.

Words fail me. I am so angry and frustrated. But I don't think venting my anger would help, because on the one occasion when I challenged another offer to refer it forward, the bored school-leaver on the other end simply terminated my call. She did!

But if the public sector can show us how It Should Not Be Done, I read about a better example this last week. A chap had apparently loaded his Ferrari onto a trailer, to tow it to a race circuit for a track day. As he hitched the trailer, his mobile phone rang, and a voice with a heavy Italian accent said “we detect movement of the car, but no key in the ignition. Is everything okay?" Wow. Now that's after-sales service.

Perhaps the Student Loans Company could learn something from Ferrari's approach. “We were just wondering whether your fifth-former might go to university in a couple of years? Maybe we could complete this complicated application form for you, just in case. We'll pop it in the post for your signature." Or maybe “Hi there, it's Billy here! Remember me? We see that your teenager is in second year now. Our research shows that's when those student flats are at their worst. Maybe we could send him some extra money, so they can get a cleaner round?"

I'll give them a call on Monday.

Snatching defeat from the jaws of victory

2011-03-17T08:45:00.002Z

"Before you disappear into the office this morning," asked Jill, "could you sort that floorboard out, please?" This was a thirty-second job which I had put off for months. We were reminded about that annoying floorboard, wobbling and sitting a millimetre or two proud, every time we almost tripped over it. Jill was on a mission today, oiling those ancient wooden boards, so now it was time to sort it out. One single, solitary nail. That's all it needed.

What wasn't needed was for the nail to be driven smartly through the central heating pipe running under the floor. So that's why it hadn't been nailed down by the joiner...

Panic ensued. The section of floor was hastily ripped up - remember this is beautiful, ancient wooden flooring we're talking about - and Jill plunged headlong into the high-pressure jet of water to try to stem the flow. I ran around turning off the water, and trying to remember where the drain tap was, then looking for a hosepipe to connect to it, then looking for the tool to open it. Jill clearly believed she had the more difficult part of the job, and so her protests grew louder...

When everything had calmed down, and we were having a giggle about it that evening, we reflected on one of the best things about living in our village. We needed a plumber - I'm not very well practised at soldering pipes, and it seemed Jill wasn't in the mood for trusting me with the job - and after a single phone call, Shaun was here within about 15 minutes. An hour later the system was refilled, and the new section of pipe was watertight. Frankly, he could have simply named his price - then perhaps doubled it by calling it 'an emergency'. We would have paid. But he shrugged, and asked for just a few pounds. We paid him more, even though he insisted on imposing the traditional 'building site' punishment for such a misdemeanour, and obliged me to hang the holed section of pipe around my neck for the rest of the day. Given that he had rescued us from disaster, it was a price I was very willing to pay.

Spring is in the air...

2011-03-02T12:33:00.004Z

It feels like Spring has well and truly arrived in Northumberland this week. The skies are blue, there’s not a breath of wind, and there’s just a hint of warmth in the sun. The sea is flat calm, and it feels like nature is ‘resting’ after a buffeting winter! Even so, we’re still waking to crisp white frosts, so we’re not there yet…

Of course this means that visitors are beginning to arrive in greater numbers, and soon we’ll be into the season proper. We find ourselves looking at the list of jobs we made as went into winter, and realise that very few of them are complete! It’s time to get busy ticking some of them off, in order to keep the place in tip-top condition, before we get into the consuming rhythm of keeping the business running smoothly.

We’ve written before now, about our approach to awards and accolades for our business. In many respects it’s not our style to be showy, or to go shouting from the rooftops about how great we think St Cuthbert’s House is. And yet, you will rightly choose very carefully where you spend your money – and if you don’t know about us, then there are plenty of other places waiting to offer you a welcome! We need to get ‘out there’ and let you know about this lovely place. And so we were delighted to win the North East’s B&B of the Year Award in October.

And then a week ago we learned that we have been chosen, from among the eight Regional winners from around the country, as one of only two finalists in the National competition, to be announced at a swanky ceremony in Birmingham in April! Great news - we feel really privileged to be judged amongst the very best accommodation businesses in the whole country. Awesome… There are certainly no ‘losers’ at this level, so even if we don’t win Gold in April we will still celebrate like billy-o.

Two really heartwarming things have come out of the awards process; firstly, we have become friends with our arch-rivals from the Regional final! Jill & Rupert Richardson run Dowfold House in Crook, Co Durham, and won Silver at the Regional final. Amidst much good-natured banter, we’ve stayed in touch, and in the best spirit of co-operation we’re seeing what good ideas we can learn from each other. We’ve arranged to do a ‘stay-swop’ and I’ll bet we’ll each be more nervous than when the grading assessor visits… Secondly, we had a short but very kind email this morning from the owners of No17 Burgate, the winners of the Yorkshire regional final – who of course will be disappointed that they have not been shortlisted for the National final. They wrote to offer us their congratulations, and to wish us well for the final. They didn’t need to do that, and it touched us. We think it probably says more about their heart for hospitality than any award ever could.

Joy in the (extra)ordinary...

2010-10-17T11:43:00.005+01:00

We’ve had a ‘big week’ here at St Cuthbert’s House, and it feels good to be tidied up after breakfast on this beautiful sunny autumnal Sunday morning, and to relax and feel able to ‘breathe out’. A cup of tea makes the feeling of well-being complete…

On Tuesday night, in the midst of a busy week, we all went to the North-East Tourism Awards, held at a swanky hotel in Durham. It was lovely to be there as a complete family – all of us are involved it this business to some extent, and so it had the feeling of a special night out in celebration of a hard season’s work.

We were delighted to win the Gold Award for best B&B/Guest Accommodation 2010. Fantastic! There are some great B&B businesses in the North-East region, so be judged amongst the best was a real honour, in reaching the final. To win Gold feels a little surreal – but we will enjoy the moment (the year!) and seek to use the accolade to get the word out – not only about St Cuthbert’s House as a great place to stay, but also about the Northumberland coast as a great place to visit. The Tourist Board have dropped the ‘Secret Kingdom’ strapline recently, but we think it sums up so much of what this area is about in just two words!

The Award ceremony came in the midst of a ‘Northumbrian Heritage’ holiday week here at SCH, when we had a full house exploring the history, spirituality and ‘ethos’ of Northumbria, ancient and modern. We love these weeks, even though they are incredibly hard work – three fantastic meals a day to prepare and serve, as well as guiding the group to lots of special visits, and giving presentations in the evenings.

But it is lovely to witness the same characteristics with each group; they arrive from all quarters of the country, filled with the struggles of life and work… and slowly we see Northumbria do a work in their heart. They rediscover quietness, solitude even. They begin to feel 'remote' or set apart somehow, and they marvel and are amazed at this beautiful landscape. Not just the things we 'see' but the work it does in the heart. We see them becoming refreshed and renewed, and reinvigorated, to return home to deal with the stuff of life - which hasn't changed of course - but with an approach which might just be subtly altered…

Two very different episodes – one a glitzy exciting Award ceremony, and the other set amongst predominantly grey skies in an autumn week. But both offering opportunity to find joy and fulfillment in the stuff of everyday life. ‘The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places…’

Turn it down!

2010-09-26T15:19:00.010+01:00

I’m sure this will probably sound dangerously similar to one of those ‘grumpy old men’ rants, but I find myself distinctly irritated by intrusive music and supposedly ‘irresistible special offers’ imposed on me in public spaces. I’ve often found it difficult to actually remain in some shops to finish the task at hand, and indeed in some I simply didn’t.

It’s not that I dislike music, of course. Heck, in my more grandiose moments I even claim to be ‘a musician’. But I don’t want every waking moment to be filled with noise, thank you very much - especially if its computer generated muzak with no heart and no soul. How does that carry the human condition upwards to greater things? This stuff matters!

It’s not all muzak of course, thankfully. But I also find local radio a particularly difficult companion in these settings. I know that the overpaid superstar-broadcasters of tomorrow have to learn their trade somewhere, and I’m sure there are some admirable aspects of the ‘local’ service which local radio delivers. But I’m unable to persevere long enough to discover them, because hearing the same nauseating adverts every 10 minutes interspersed by cheesy pop songs from the 1980’s, drives me to breaking point long before I’m converted.

I’m prompted to make this the subject of a long-overdue blog post because my sensitivity to this issue has caused us to think carefully about ‘background music’ at St Cuthbert’s House, and to reach some positive, considered conclusions. You don’t want to come down to the most sumptuous breakfast imaginable, only to find yourself wanting to get out of the dining room as quickly as possible because the radio’s blaring, do you? (We had exactly this experience in a hotel in London. Or rather, we experienced the ‘get out’ part, rather than the ‘sumptuous breakfast’ part.) You’re relaxed, chilling out, maybe with someone extra-special - so you don’t want to listen to some over-ego’d breakfast show host with a misplaced sense of how funny he is. But here’s the thing - neither do you want to listen to the conversation from the next table - or even worse, be worrying that they might be listening to your own sweet-talking.

Well, fear not. We have the problem covered. I spent a long while putting together several compilations of some of my favourite music. Interesting, instrumental stuff, of course - so there are no irritating songs you might find yourself involuntarily humming at lunchtime, thinking ‘why is that song in my head?’ But real music, played on real instruments with heart and soul and meaning. Nice gentle stuff, nothing to whip you into a frenzy of excitement or distraction at breakfast. Not loud, either - it’s just ‘there’ for you…

I get a warm glow when guests - mostly men, as it happens - comment on the music at breakfast, often with a knowing look in their eye, and I find I have a kindred spirit in the fight against aural banality. Or perhaps they’re just pleased I didn’t overhear their sweet-talking.

Keeping it local

2010-07-08T16:13:00.002+01:00

I've been thinking a lot recently about the importance of building things which 'add value' - not because I'm reading books of empty corporate-speak, but actually because of a real-world scenario. Here's the gist of it: like any small business there are a range of services we need to buy in. The most important of all could only be sourced from a multi-national company, providing their service to us from a 'local' base - more than 150 miles away! This meant that we had a lorry driving a 300 mile round trip twice per week to pick up and deliver to our business. And we were uncomfortable with that. They provided the cheapest service - by some margin - but we began to wonder if there wasn't scope to make this a 'local issue'. To cut a long story short, we have thereby become involved in setting up a social enterprise here in the village, training and employing local people, and providing high-quality service to local businesses. But here's the thing; it's more expensive. They're still looking at pricing structures, but it seems clear that we cannot expect a service at prices which compete with the big boys. So our business' overheads have increased - and now I am involved (on behalf of the new enterprise) in discussions with other local businesses, bigger than ours, trying to persuade them to use the new venture too. But it's tough - because the culture is that the 'cheapest' option is always the 'best' option.
We believe it's pretty compelling that we are keeping local people employed, bringing dignity and integrity to families, that we've developed a ramshackle old building in the village, and that we're not keeping a line of trucks on the A1. We know that times are tough for local businesses. But we believe that the opportunity to 'add value' to our village is worth the extra expenditure. It's counter-cultural, and it may even seem naïve business practice, but we believe it's the future...

One good turn deserves another...

2010-04-09T17:50:00.009+01:00

It's delightful that as our business ‘matures’ we are seeing many guests returning. Some have been back five times in two years – we really need to launch a Loyalty Card Scheme for them! We’ve had a delightful period over the Spring, in seeing many old friends return to St Cuthbert’s House.

Easter was particularly delightful. Most of our guests over the Easter holidays were ‘returners’, and most came for a substantial stay. We commented on Easter Sunday that it felt just like having a house-full of friends around. Which of course was exactly what it was. One of the guests, who knew we were intending to go to church on Easter Sunday morning if timings worked out, offered to clear the breakfast tables and tidy the kitchen! That was sweet. (No, of course we didn’t…) Others, who had heard about the sudden death of Jill’s brother, have turned up with flowers for her, and it has really warmed our hearts. Lovely.

Yesterday, some guests made something of a ‘dream come true’ for Jill. She has always wanted to ride on a Harley Davidson, and when Mark & Helen arrived for a return stay on theirs, they very quickly had strapped Helen’s helmet on to Jill’s head, and Mark took her off for a tootle around the lanes. When I saw her studiously surveying the sausages this morning, I asked what she was looking at. She said ‘I’m just looking for the biggest sausage, to give to Mark.’ Well, one good turn deserves another, don’t you think?

Here's a link to our Flickr photostream which has more photos.

Do Not Hurry As You Walk With Grief

2010-03-24T16:10:00.004Z

I should definitely be doing something more ‘important’ or ‘productive’ right now, than sitting here self-indulgently writing. But I’m being gentle with myself today, and following my instinct, as we emerge – are we emerging? - from a tunnel of sadness. Jill’s brother Andrew died unexpectedly and relatively suddenly three weeks ago, just a few days after first feeling unwell. We had a funeral and a Memorial service for him last week, and it still all feels just a little surreal.

There are all kinds of emotions flying around at a time like this, from guilt to anger and all stations in between. We know them all, and still they’re swirling. It’s painful, and there are no shortcuts. We just have to go through the wringer at times like this.

Andrew was probably the cleverest and most practical bloke I’ve ever met. He had a PhD, but that wasn’t what made him clever. He just had a way of solving problems. I moaned to him at Christmas about something I just couldn’t see how to fix, and he immediately grabbed a pencil and a sheet of paper, and said ‘I’d do it like this’ as he scrawled a diagram. It was easy – why couldn’t I have seen that?

We’ve laughed as we’ve remembered lots of his ‘solutions’ – torches lashed to goggles for seeing his music when we went carol-singing, or a home-made periscope so the kids could see if the ball had rolled off the garage roof. They were his zany solutions, but it genuinely seemed to me that there was nothing he wasn’t an expert in, no problem he couldn’t offer a really solid and practical solution to. So we’ll miss him for that - we’ve already had to call an electrician for something he would have fixed - but more, we’ll miss him for who he was – Jill’s dear brother and my friend.

So you see, my inbox and In tray seems to have taken on a new perspective just for the moment. There’ll be time, we’ll get to that, but for now we’re following some advice we've often offered: Do Not Hurry As You Walk With Grief.

Peace and Quiet...

2010-02-12T19:27:00.005Z

I’m just sitting here doing a few ‘at computer’ jobs, waiting for last guests to arrive for Valentine’s weekend. It’s very quiet and peaceful – everyone else is out, so there’s just me here. The night outside is dark and cold, cloudless and freezing, but in here it’s warm and toasty.

Today somehow feels like the end of winter… we’re busy with guests again this weekend, who are enjoying a real treat for Valentine’s. There’s lots of chocolate and roses around, and all kinds of special little treats and touches here and there. In a short while it will be March, and then Spring brings Easter and suddenly it’s all-systems-go again...

We had a list of maintenance jobs we were going to sort out at leisure over the winter whilst we had fewer guests around. We finished the most important one yesterday, just hours before a busy weekend, so you can see how committed we’ve been to that process! It’s been good to have some rest. Still, everything that needed to be done did get done (most especially that pesky shower door in Aidan that would never close properly – fixed – yay!) and tonight this feels like a really special place – again.

I love the lighting in here in the evening especially. It creates a lovely atmosphere, and guests who arrive in the evening always gasp when they walk into the Cuthbert room. I'll take a snap on my phone, and include it here, but I'm not really sure it will do the scene justice!

Jill and Hannah worked really hard today, turning what started the day looking like an odd-job man’s cabin, with tools and stuff all over, into this gorgeous and atmospheric haven. And I’m enjoying relaxing, reflecting, and having it all to myself. The ambience will be perfected in just a few moments, when I pour that glass…

On finding the 'pause' button

2010-01-08T19:42:00.006Z

The year is new, the snow is deep, the stove is hot... and my glass has just been filled. A perfect time to share some meanderings.

I recently had opportunity to walk the Camino de Santiago in Spain, and it was a profound time for me. I cannot begin to sum it up in a few sentences - other than to say it was one of the hardest yet most rewarding things I have ever done in my whole life. But, I found that being largely alone on the road for a sustained period changed my perspective and priorities enormously - and made possible all kinds of perception and reflection which otherwise would be lost, or missed, or buried. As my pilgrimage neared its end, I began to say to myself (and that's another outcome of long solitary walking!) that it was time to think about getting back to 'real life'.

But it slowly dawned on me that, actually, THIS WAS real life - not that semi-anaesthetised workaday back in UK, where if I'm not careful I can become so busy and so driven, that I completely miss the things which had enriched me over these past few weeks, so that my senses felt more alive than I'd ever known. Simple things which had often caught my attention along the way, sounds, and smells, the fleeting hello's or significant little conversations along the way... these were things which I could easily miss (or even avoid, thinking I'm 'too busy') back home. Many of my days here had been completely filled with journeying no further than the distance of our drive to the nearest supermarket - something which I will often do on autopilot in twenty minutes or so. (I'm not counting the Co-op in this calculation, ok?)

I'm not one for new years' resolutions usually, but having enjoyed the opportunity to press the 'pause' button and walk the camino over the winter, I am determined to travel more slowly this year - so that I am open in a new way. I want to be able to hear those faint sounds, and pursue them; to see that interesting shape, and go have a look; to make time for a conversation which might turn out to be profound, or just smalltalk. These things aren't a waste of time, as our culture might try to persuade me; rather, they are a life well lived.

It's not what you do it's the way that you do it...

2009-12-12T22:03:00.006Z

You wait all that time for a blog post, and then two come along at once. A winter night in front of the wood-burner - what better way to catch up.

St Cuthbert’s House has enjoyed some success on the Awards front this past season. I confess that we were (and still are!) a bit uneasy with the whole need-to-get-an-Award approach. We think that understatement, modesty and hiddenness are particularly valuable characteristics, but we do acknowledge that it’s not easy to build a successful tourism business if no-one knows about you. And of course these awards are a valuable yardstick for you to use, when you're looking for a place to stay. So we set about doing well in the areas that we think are important, and then tried to let the world know we’re here.

Our first assessment (last summer) by Quality in Tourism, who give us our star-rating on behalf of Visit Britain, gave us a 4-Star Gold Award (the ‘award’ part recognises those extras which are over and above the basic measures for any particular star level. Got that?) So we were delighted this year to be awarded a 5-Star Silver Award, which recognises the work we’ve done in building a lovely place for you to stay.

The result of this Asessment was a very sweet affirmation for Hannah – because she held the fort one day when we needed to be away for the day, and was responsible for receiving the incoming guests, making sure they had everything they need. Unbeknown to her (and us – otherwise we probably wouldn’t have gone out!) one of those guests was the Assessor. (They don’t reveal their identity until they are checking out.) Her subsequent report made several references to the welcome she received, and the friendly and efficient way in which Hannah handled her arrival, and the inevitable questions she asks to ‘test the system’. This has provided Hannah with powerful negotiating tools, which I’m not sure she always deploys fairly… The QiT assessment also awarded us a coveted ‘Breakfast Award’ which is given to only about 7% of assessed businesses, and recognises excellence therein. That’s affirmation for Jill too, then! So that only leaves me. Let’s move on.

We are committed to living our life (and our business) in a responsible and sustainable way, and so we were delighted to be awarded a coveted Gold Award from the Green Tourism Business Scheme. There’s still plenty more we can do, and we’ll keep working to improve here. Know anywhere you can get low-energy spotlights that don’t cost a bomb?

On the same theme, we are of course committed to sourcing our food locally, and this commitment won us recognition in the Northumberland Local Food Awards. Thing is, this stuff is so fantastic, we can’t understand why anyone wouldn’t use it. Even you.

We also decided to enter the big one – the North-East Tourism Awards, in the B&B/Guest Accommodation of the Year category. We didn’t really expect to progress very far, being such a new business, so you can imagine our delight when we were selected as one of three finalists, and thereby received an invitation to a swanky Awards-night dinner at the Hilton Hotel in Gateshead. It was a great night, and to win the Bronze award – to be mixing it with other experienced businesses who are operating at the very top of the tree in the North-East region – was a great privilege. Here’s a picture of the whole family team at the awards night.

Wood, Wandering and Wondering

2009-12-12T20:59:00.000Z

I spent a very satisfying day last week wielding a chainsaw. It was satisfying on a number of counts: that untidy pile of hefty timbers (‘saved’ from the days of renovating St Cuthbert’s) is now a lot smaller; it was hard physical graft, something which I don’t often experience any more; I can now sit in front of this mesmerising wood-burning stove on this cold winter’s night; and I managed to complete the job without accidentally removing any digits or limbs. (This was by no means a certainty.)

I am digressing here, but this has inspired me to even greater things. You see, the timbers in the (still large) pile which is left are just too hefty for my small chainsaw, so next week my farmer-friend Colin has promised to bring me ‘the log splitter’ for a day. This is apparently an industrial-strength guillotine which is powered by his tractor’s engine, and you have to feed the timber in one side, and it spits the chunks out of the other as if they were matchsticks . This sounds quiveringly exciting to me, and the challenge of not chopping off limbs clearly gets ramped up by a few degrees. I find myself genuinely looking forward to another day of fun. I’ve never played with a tractor. Or a life-threatening guillotine, for that matter. So the chance to experience both together is something of a dream date. I’ll let you know how it goes, and I will hope not to be typing it with one hand…

Anyway, as I said, I digress. I set out write about this winter season, and cozy as I am with the laptop here in front of the wood-burner, I couldn’t help telling the wood story.

We made it to the end of October, but by that time we were very tired, and in need of some serious rest. So we closed the house for the whole month of November, and went off to do something different! Jill headed off to the Sierra Nevada for some winter sun, and I got to fulfil an ambition to walk the Camino de Santiago. I had a significant birthday this year, and it seemed like a good time to press the pause button, and reflect a little.

People have asked me ‘how did it go’, and my standard answer is that it was one of the hardest things I have ever done – not just the sustained physical effort of walking several hundred miles with your life in a backpack, but also emotionally and even spiritually – but it was also one of the best things I have ever done. Life’s like that, don’t you think – full of paradox? I think I will want to write about the experience of the camino in a little while, and so if you will permit the indulgence I may do that here.

After my walk ended in Santiago, I took an overnight bus south to meet Jill, and we had a week of rest together before coming home – and some of our family came over too. It was really lovely (although I would genuinely rather holiday in Northumberland than Spain!) and gave us a chance to reflect on the way things have been…

If our business were a bit bigger, we’d definitely need to employ some staff, and then we’d be able to take holidays whilst St Cuthbert’s keeps working. But then – that’s not what St Cuthbert’s is! When you come here, we’re sharing our life and our ethos with you, and we believe that has an authenticity and an integrity to it. But if we’re away in Spain and an employee is looking after you, that changes things doesn’t it?

But there’s a flipside: we’ve realised that unless we can work in a way which enables us to maintain a rhythm to life, then we lose the plot – and there’s no authenticity (or value of any other kind!) in that. So we have some ideas for revising our business model – developed over several bottles of good Rioja – to make that balance and rhythm possible. It will require some subtle changes to our way of thinking and working (and it will welcome the greater involvement of our Hannah!) but we feel sure it can preserve the essence of what is St Cuthbert’s House, whilst also preserving our sanity. We’ll see.

What's in a name? Quite a lot, actually.

2009-09-28T21:40:00.002+01:00

One of the things we really try to do when you come to stay here at St Cuthbert’s House is to learn your name. Seems simple, I can almost hear you thinking. So you might be surprised at how hard it is to learn the names of twelve guests who are constantly changing, on alternating days… anyway, we think it really matters. We like to remember your name, and to use it when we talk with you. There are some little tricks I’ve learned to help me learn names, but I have no intention of sharing them with you, just in case you don’t approve of them.

I know how I feel when someone remembers my name. I feel like I matter to them, and that they somehow value me as an individual. And that’s how we’d want you to feel.

Two things happened today to make me think about how important using our name is. In another context, outside our work here at St Cuthbert’s House, I’m a member of a small team of professional people, which meets regularly - and exchanges email every week. Today I received a reply to an email I’d sent to one of the members. So let’s picture the scene; the email is in his inbox with my name clearly displayed; he clicks ‘Reply’ and the original message detail is shown; and he types “Dear Geoff”. So by now I don’t really care what he’s writing to tell me because I’m so cross that he can’t take the trouble to spell my name correctly.

Perhaps I’m the victim of some carefully-constructed joke amongst the team, because then the postman arrived. He brought a document from another member of the team. We are the longest-standing members of this team, and have worked together in this context for over 12 years. He must have received more than 500 emails from me, every one of which carries my full name. We countersign documents regularly, which bear both of our names side by side. Like the one he had just signed and sent on to me. So why would he address the envelope to 'Jeff Sutherland'? Did he pause for a moment, uncertainly? Did he wonder, after he’d written it, whether that was entirely accurate? Or did he think ‘that’s near enough’? Well it wasn’t, and to misquote Churchill, this kind of sloppy inaccuracy is something up with which we will not put.

So if you are here for just a night or two, I can promise only to try to remember your name when we chat. But by the time you've sent me hundreds of emails and visited for 12 years or more, I think I can promise I’d have it by then.

Pour me a beer. Any beer…

2009-08-30T14:02:00.000+01:00

Recently, we managed to put the pieces of the jigsaw in place to become licensed to sell alcohol at St Cuthbert’s House. This was neither easy nor inexpensive, but we see it as an important investment.
Being a real-ale enthusiast, I thought it would be good to see if we could offer some locally brewed beer – and there began a journey of discovery which has been a delight.
Here’s the thing; when we began to do a little research, we found that there are loads of craft breweries springing up in and around Northumberland - and even more if we extend our range to the whole of the ancient kingdom of Northumbria.
I called several of them, and was struck by the passion which was always evident amongst those mixing these magical ingredients to create something wonderful. They all really seemed to care passionately about what they were making, and all its little nuances – and they wanted me to care too. I like that.
So, alongside our very swishy wine list we now have our very own ‘beer menu’, with 17 or so locally brewed real ales. I’m working my way through them all – purely in the interests of quality control and customer service research, I’m sure you’ll understand.
One of those local breweries, based in Durham, (which I concede is not in Northumberland – but it was in Northumbria) uses the fact that St Cuthbert’s resting place is Durham in their ‘branding’. I was delighted to find that one of their beers is called ‘St Cuthbert’, and so it has naturally found a favoured place as our house beer. Want one?

You never know who you might meet

2009-08-17T19:23:00.001+01:00

One morning after breakfast last week, one of our guests told me that she had a confession to make. It’s amazing how many possible answers to the ‘what’s coming next?’ question passed through my mind, in the pregnant pause which followed. But then it came: she was a hotel inspector. And in the next few milliseconds I was reliving every encounter we’d shared with this guest in the previous 18-or-so hours she’d been here. I didn’t remember any disasters, and so was able to smile in a ‘well, it’s lovely to have you here’ kind of way.

We may be relatively new to the game, but even we had wondered why this particular guest had felt the need to request facilities and services at unusual hours of the day (and night) and so we were a bit suspicious by bedtime. Now we could see that these unusual requests were part of the ‘test’. I found myself hoping I hadn’t seemed irritable to be setting up an ironing board so very late into the night.

Anyway, to the good news, and the purpose of the ‘mystery guest’ visit; we learned that we have been shortlisted as one of three finalists for the North-East England B&B/Guest Accommodation of the Year 2009 award. How cool is that. She said that it was a really great achievement to get into the final, given that there had been more entrants than ever this year, and the standard was very high. Even if we don’t win, she said, (was that a clue? I wonder…) we can still make much of the fact that we were selected as one of the three best B&B’s in the North-East.

Apparently we will be invited to some swanky Oscars-style dinner in October, when a celebrity will open the envelope to reveal the name of the winner. I don’t think we get to make an acceptance speech if we win though, so that should avoid any embarrassing tearful episodes. The winner goes on to represent the North-East in the national competition, when the prize-giving dinner will presumably be even swankier. I’ll let you know if we make it there.

We serve intimate dinners for two. But only if you bring someone.

2009-07-14T12:30:00.006+01:00

You may already have heard by other means that we’re serving dinner here at St Cuthbert’s House now. Lots of guests seemed to be posing the same question: ‘can we eat dinner here?’ – so we decided to make the answer ‘Yes!’

And so it was that we stumbled into the restaurant business. I use that term specifically, (that's 'restaurant' not 'stumbled') because we’re not just serving dinner to resident guests, but also to non-residents. We only have 12 seats, and so to make it viable we need to fill as many of them as often as possible – and so if we have an open table, we’ll take a booking from ‘outside’.

Providing high-quality food to non-residents is of course a very different proposition to simply offering a simple supper to our B&B guests. We had some lessons to learn very quickly, and we’ve found the help and advice of a business coach very useful. Time for an aside; I confess to being very sceptical about ‘consultants’ generally. You ask them the time, and they ask to look at your watch… The highest paid job I ever had was as a ‘consultant’, and I was making it up as I went along – which of course only served to reinforce my perception of consultants. But this prejudice all changed when our Regional Development Agency offered us several hours free consultancy for our B&B business, with a ‘business coach’. And really, John was excellent - notably because he knew what he was talking about regarding all things hospitality-industry. So when we decided to open a restaurant, there was only one person we were going to call. Anyway, I digress. We’ve learned and adapted pretty quickly, and whilst we’re not complacent we think we’ve got our act together, and our figures sorted out, and have created something pretty unique here.

This is how it works: we invite you to arrive at 7.15pm, and when you do we offer you a glass of sherry, and show you to one of our sumptuous sofas. We give you one of our attractive folders containing our dinner menu, the wine list, and our beer menu (I think I’ll save elaboration on this particular item for a future blog post. Can you wait?) Other dinner guests arrive, and inevitably conversations begin. Usually we then have to kindly ‘prompt’ you to give attention to the menu so we can have your order, because the conversation takes over! When your first course is ready, we take you to your own intimate, candle-lit table… After dinner, we invite you to return to the sofas for coffee and mints, when those conversations resume, and continue into the late evening…

Almost everyone who has eaten here has made a point of saying really kind things – most often about the lovely food, which is top quality, locally produced and sourced, and cooked and presented beautifully by Oli – but also about that opportunity to meet other guests and holidaymakers (or even locals) and learn from each other’s itineraries. Someone wrote on tripadvisor that ‘it was like being invited to your best friends’ house for dinner, only better’. (Not sure whether her best friend charges her £22.50 for dinner…) But it does seem that the special ambience of this ancient building does help to create something you won’t find anywhere else around here - and we're delighted that dinner at The Open Door is more than just a meal for you. This has been a place of 'meeting and sharing' for 200 years, and it's lovely that it's continuing. Now, I wonder if I can set up a consultancy peddling this philosophy…

Green is the new Gold

2009-06-25T12:03:00.003+01:00

I'm sure you will probably have been enduring sleepless nights recently, as the tension has mounted over the result of our not-so-recent Green Tourism Business Scheme audit. They have apologised that it has taken so long, and explained why, but I told them this was no comfort for you in your sleeplessness...

Well, I'm just checking in here briefly to announce the great news that we have achieved a resounding GOLD award - not just scraping through, but getting well and truly into the comfortable midriff of that golden zone. Fantastic.

It's not that we need accolades simply for doing the right thing, but it is good that there's a scheme which can help all of us make informed choices about responsible tourism, and the places we choose to stay, which help to save the world. And we're jolly pleased to be up there with the best.

They say there's no such thing as bad publicity...

2009-05-31T13:18:00.008+01:00

We’ve had a strange weekend here at St Cuthbert’s House. Spirits are low and confidence has been knocked, and it feels like we’re keeping low and licking our wounds. I understand, in my head at least, that we ‘shouldn’t take it personally’ – but in our hearts the whole family are finding it difficult not to.

The thing is, we recently hosted a travel writer from the Guardian newspaper, and her article appeared yesterday. We feel it is unfair, unkind, overly critical and contains more than a hint of cynicism - even sarcasm.

She came and stayed for free – this is the norm for these visits – and when we discussed dinner on the phone, she said that our usual time of 7.30pm was a little late for her liking. I agreed to move it to 7pm, and duly informed all our other dining guests of the time-change. She eventually arrived for dinner, without any acknowledgement that she was very late, at 7.50pm. This caused some awkwardness for us, because we try hard to create a 'dinner party' ambience in the dining room. Even though everyone is seated at their own intimate table, we serve each course to all diners simultaneously, and it just works... We didn't say anything of course, and I think we coped well, but she complains in her article that her soup was ‘lukewarm’. Oli clearly remembers keeping that soup pan simmering, because it was something he had to work around on the stove, when it should have been out of the way… She also complains about her local salmon being overcooked and too dry, yet she told us during the check-back that it was delicious, and she finished the lot!

We’re neither pretending nor aspiring to be a Michelin-starred restaurant. But we know what we are, and we’ve worked hard at it. We’re a well-run family business providing a warm and genuine welcome, and very good quality, locally distinctive food, beautifully served in a unique and enchanting ‘dinner party’ setting. We now have hundreds of really kind reviews and comments from people who have loved these aspects of our business. We’ve even set up a separate Tripadvisor listing for the restaurant, because so many guests are saying wonderful things about the food, having struggled to find somewhere ‘special’ to eat locally. Yet she missed all this; I just don’t think she ‘got it’, perhaps because she arrived late and approached us as just another restaurant. What hurts us most is the way she seems (to us, at least!) to sneer at the fact that her waitress, Hannah, was ‘one of the family, of course’.

We spent much of the following morning with her, and her travelling companion, telling them lots about Northumberland as she furiously scribbled notes, and even discussed some quite personal aspects of life – hers and ours. Yet this personal contact is barely even hinted at in her article. It’s almost as if she has decided to avoid mentioning anything of her welcome, of the local information which enriched her visit, or the time we spent talking. These are things which I would have thought most of her readers would consider valuable – they are the very essence of our hospitality, and the ambience which St Cuthbert’s House creates.

After they left, we found some library books she’d left behind in her room (in a very strange location!) and we went to some lengths to get them back to her before she left the area.

She seemed to dislike the Cuthbert Room, describing it as a ‘vast yellow hall’. I find it odd that she makes space to comment on how difficult it must be to change a light bulb. She criticises the size of the pictures on the wall - but I would have hoped that the most notable thing about those pictures is that they are of local scenes, created by local artists, and we’re providing both a showcase and an outlet for them.

She describes her bedroom as ‘nice’ - my old English teacher forbade that adjective - but doesn’t give many enticing clues. Breakfast is dismissed as ‘good quality’. That’s it. Well, indeed it is good quality, but it is so much more, according to almost every other guest who's ever stayed here.

Anyway, we know that the success of our business does not depend on any single review or encounter, but rather on the consistently good experiences of our guests who stay here - and that’s what we’re focussed on. We’re certainly not complacent, but the signals we’re receiving indicate that we’re doing pretty well. It’s a pity that the only guest we can remember who has been so ambivalent or critical is one who has the inclination and the means to come in to our home and then say unkind things to millions of people about her visit. And there’s nothing we can do about it.

But tomorrow’s another day…

I guess I should tell you that the article is online here.

The answer is blowin' in the wind...

2009-05-14T18:31:00.003+01:00

There's a great deal of huffing and puffing around these parts just now, on the issue of wind turbines. I can’t pretend to be an expert in this issue by any stretch of the imagination – and anyway, the ‘expert opinion’ of every expert seems to be directly contradicted by the ‘expert opinion’ of several others. So I’m not convinced one way or the other about the technical merits, or arguments about efficiency and all that stuff. But I am able to look at pictures – like the one showing the view from my good friends’ gorgeous home, as it will be if several proposals are approved – and decide for myself whether developments like these can be deemed a step forward.

The issue has come sharply into focus for us in Northumberland, because as well as having more castles than any other English County (that’s true!) we also seem to have more Windfarm applications too (that’s just my impression).

As with all the biggest decisions, there is a balance to the argument. You may remember that we’re hoping to get a cracking good result for our ‘green business’ assessment any day now (it’s been many weeks since the assessment; the tension is mounting) so you might expect us to be much in favour of renewable energy schemes. And indeed we are in principle, of course. But here’s the thing – most of our visitors are attracted to Northumberland because of its wild, vast unspoilt landscapes. The peace and tranquillity, the big skies, the open country – these things do something in your heart and soul when you become still for a while, and make time simply to ‘be’ rather than ‘do’. There are relatively few places in England where this is really possible, and Northumberland is top of the list.

So then – shall we fill up the hills and plains in north Northumberland with hundreds of wind turbines standing 125m tall, and turn it into an enormous industrial landscape? What do we think that might do for a tourist industry (that’s us) which promotes that wild, unspoilt landscape, and all it does for the human condition?

I can’t help wondering if these things are being proposed here because this is the best possible spot in which to harness the power of the wind – or because there is likely to be less opposition from a relatively small population. It does seem rather counter-intuitive to me, to propose these things 'in the middle of nowhere'. Why don't we site them in urban landscapes, on hillsides close to where millions of people already live? No-one goes there to get away from it all, so we wouldn't be spoiling anything. Is this just a daft idea?

This issue seems to be able to divide reasonable people like no other. Of course, there are a lot of people who see wind power as the best alternative in the conundrum of how we should power our future. And plenty of others who will seem somehow impatient, slightly cross even, if they suspect a nimby approach on our part. And lots of others who just love to see those graceful sweeping blades catching ‘something for nothing’.

So, the public inquiry rumbles on, in the Arts Centre not far from here. They’re hearing the appeal of the power companies who have had three applications turned down by local planning authorities. I guess if they succeed, then north Northumberland will be regarded as a ‘wind turbine landscape’ and so the rest of it will get filled up with other applications, which can hardly fail. I can’t help feeling that’s not ‘something for nothing’, but rather a very high price to pay.

Pocket the difference - or Make a difference?

2009-03-04T23:13:00.003Z

It’s really surprising how much stuff we need to buy. It’s amazing how much food the part-time occupants of a six-bedroomed house can eat in a week. No sooner have we done the shopping, than its time to go do some more.

In the first few days we went off to the trademarket, feeling very special because we were deemed qualified to buy all this stuff at the same price as a shop-keeper. It was like we’d been admitted to some secret society, and went around looking for knowing glances from the other souls struggling with juggernaut-sized trolleys up and down the aisles.

But the novelty wore off after our first trip, when we realised that this place has one predominant motivating feature – price. It’s a fairly faceless, characterless concrete warehouse whose primary motivation is to sell shed-loads of mass-produced stuff pretty cheaply. It’s obvious, I know, but when the realisation dawned, somehow it left us feeling deeply unsatisfied.

We feel that there should be a way to make things somehow “better” through our business activities (actually, through all our activities). So we want to support other people who are trying to make the world a better place too, by supporting their businesses, if we can. And especially if they’re trying to make a living here, miles from what most of the world regards as civilisation.

The most important thing about a sausage isn’t its price, so we’d rather buy from our local butcher who makes world-beating, award-winning sausages in his back room. Battery chicken eggs just aren’t as yellow as those from the farm down the road. Loo rolls made from recycled paper, supplied by a worker’s co-op, give you a chance to change the world while... well, you know. And if you Google ‘parabens’ you’ll never buy another bottle of supermarket (or trademarket) shampoo, but will be reaching for the natural, organic stuff.

None of these items are the cheapest option. Sometimes it seems plain daft to spend more than we need to. And now we need to shop in a hundred places instead of getting it all at the trademarket. Perhaps it’s naïve, but we think that this stuff actually matters, so we’re doing all we can to buy local, buy wholesome, buy clean, and buy best-value. Which is rarely the cheapest, or so we’re finding.

Still, we’re saving the diesel on the non-trip to the trademarket. And every little helps.

As a famous frog once said: it’s not easy being green…

2009-02-10T19:54:00.002Z

…especially if you want to be ‘luxurious’. But everyone has to aim somewhere, and we've committed to conducting our life and our business in a way which gives our kids' kids a chance of having something left to enjoy. So without being fanatical, we're trying to do the sensible things which help to save the world. One day all businesses will do things this way, or they’ll wither.

Today we had our ‘advisory visit’ from the Green Tourism Business Scheme inspector. They come to look at what you’re doing already, and give you a heads-up on some improvements which might help you to get a higher grading when they come to do the assessment proper. Cool. Why be Bronze when you could be Silver? (Gold seems to require a serious level of eco-warrior commitment. It gives us somewhere to aim in the future, but compost toilets are not for us.)

One of the popular and easy-to-do things amongst environmentally-friendly accommodation providers is to use environmentally-friendly toiletries – which is admirable, of course, but it poses two major problems, in our (admittedly somewhat limited) experience. The first is that to do the job ‘properly’ we’re supposed to use refillable pump-action dispensers in the bathrooms, because this cuts down on packaging and wastage. It also makes you, our esteemed guest, feel like you’re being offered bulk-buy liquid soap. Or am I just being obtuse here? The second problem is that very often this stuff just isn’t as nice as the gear you would choose to use at home, and that just won’t do.

So here’s a business idea for you: we’ve found that we can get really nice enviro-friendly toiletries, served in their own small individual bottles which are charming, private and easy to put in your handbag to take home with you - this is clearly important, yes? But they won’t sell us larger quantities of this stuff so we can recycle those small bottles in your bathroom (assuming you don’t take it home.) We even rang the nice-stuff-producers - actually, more than one - and they reacted like we were setting forth a daft idea. So there you are – go produce a really nice enviro-friendly set of toiletries which are commensurate with a luxurious bathroom experience, then package it in beautiful small bottles, then sell us a 5-litre flagon of it so we can re-use them. We all help to save the world, while we enjoy having a wash. But remember not to leave the tap running…

For more about St Cuthbert’s House green aspirations, look here. See, I’m saving electrons.

Winter is a beautiful time of year...

2009-02-09T22:38:00.002Z

Here's a picture of St Cuthbert's House taken this morning, in the midst of a snowy February. It's cold alright, but the air is bright and clear, and there's no-one - absolutely NO-ONE - on the beach, and you can see for miles. Just get here. It's amazing.

"Little unremembered acts of kindness are the best part of a person's life"

2009-02-04T13:23:00.004Z

Whilst we’re talking about jobs-we-get-to-do-that-we’re-not-very-qualified-for, let’s talk about spreadsheets. No, stay with me, this is a warm fuzzy story with a happy ending…

We have a spreadsheet which keeps track of all our business finances. Occasionally, we even remember to put some numbers in the boxes. But we decided we needed to make use of some of those bewildering features which Excel has – features which retrieve the right bit of data from over there, decide which column it needs to go in over here, adds it to that one there and then tells you whether you can afford to go out tonight.

I used to teach an Advanced Excel course, so I know my way around it, but after several hours of faffing around, I was no further forward. I simply could not get it to work the way I wanted it to. So I decided to venture into a dark and mysterious world which I rarely enter – newsgroups.

Newsgroups are a strange world. They’re the internet-underground, the kind of place your average internet user wouldn’t even know about, unless they were looking to enjoy conversations with like-minded people about things like metallurgy or miniature piston engines.

But what’s also down there is a vast array of groups devoted to any computer program you’ve ever heard of, and a lot you haven’t. So I posted a question in one of them, asking for any ideas to help solve my problem. Within an hour, I had two replies, which ultimately led me to my solution.

These guys were obviously experts in using Excel. And they invested time and energy in solving a problem for me, a complete stranger. And here’s the thing: it was completely free. And I don’t think this was something which took them just a moment or two either. Perhaps I can illustrate this point by showing you the solution which one of them came up with. Here it is:

=IF(ISNA(MATCH(A$1&"_"&ROW($A1),raw_data!$E:$E,0)),"",INDEX(raw_data!
$C:$C,MATCH(A$1&"_"&ROW($A1),raw_data!$E:$E,0)))

See, you just don’t pick up a pen and write that, do you? You’d have to think for a few minutes, wouldn’t you? This fellow invested himself, for no tangible reward, in helping me to solve my problem. Even though I’d hoped for an answer, when it came I felt genuinely touched, as if a fellow pilgrim had reached out to offer a helping hand through the ether…

With a bit of work and adaptation, his model was working swimmingly for me, and I wrote to thank him. This is what he wrote back: Hi Jeff, thanks for your kind words. Many posters do not even feed back to the newsgroups that a solution has worked for them, so it is very heartening that you have done not only that, but also taken the trouble to contact me directly. Your words are very warming, and I'm pleased that I was able to help you. Regards, Pete

I looked through the newsgroup, and saw his name - and several others - appearing regularly against people’s questions. These people are helping to change the world by spreading a little outrageous kindness for no reward other than the joy of doing good to their fellow (frustrated) human being. And many people don’t even say thanks. But that's not what makes it worthwhile, is it? The quote at the top is from Wordsworth: "The little unremembered acts of kindness and love are the best parts of a person's life." Have a good day, Pete.

Getting The Message Out and other secrets

2009-01-20T16:42:00.007Z

One of the most challenging and fun things about running the joint yourself is that you get to be everything. Jill thinks I spend too much time trying to be the Managing Director and Chief Executive, but that’s another story. Kitchen Assistant? That’s me. Waiter? That’s me too. Front-desk person? Yes! Book-keeper? Well, only just... Tour-guide? That’s me. Except that tomorrow it might be Jill - although that means I’d have to be Housekeeper…

I enjoy all the responsibilities which go with developing a great place to stay, but there is one role whose hat I wear with a greater degree of uncertainty: that of Marketing Director.

We’ve done all our own promotion and marketing so far, although we’ve had some fantastic help from one or two marketing-savvy friends. They’re more than just savvy – they’re experts in their field. But I confess that it’s a role I find difficult to slip into. I still squirm when I remember my discomfort in the conversation with a dear friend, who is an expert in ‘bringing a brand to market’. He asked me eagerly ‘So, what is it that you’re selling?’ I looked blank. OK, look, I know I should know the answer to this, but you’re going to have to help me here. He clearly thought that by repeating the question with added emphasis on the ‘IS IT..’ part, that the dawn of realisation would suddenly sweep over me. It didn’t.

Another pal, a lifelong marketing man, gave us a deep and meaningful consultation, and handed me a great, thick, empty notebook, with the words ‘Marketing Strategy’ written on the front, and various pencilled chapter headings throughout. He’s left loads of blank pages between headings, as if he clearly expects us to fill them with brilliant and incisive ideas. I find myself writing in artificially large letters.

These guys are clever. They know how to get us to buy stuff. Most of the world would just get on and do what comes naturally, and because it comes naturally they believe they’re doing a great job, and that it can’t be improved. But now that we’ve been guided to the other side, across the perilous divide of unknowing and uncertainty, now we can see how important it is to have a marketing strategy, a PR strategy, a cohesive online presence, and a media kit. I’m even beginning, with a little help from my friends, to know what one or two of these terms actually mean.

Not that we looked like marketing newbies when we had a three-minute feature in BBC1’s Songs of Praise last Sunday. No siree. Hey – I should write that item in my strategy notebook. (Do you ever make a list of things you’ve already done, and then tick them off, just so you can see how much you’ve achieved?)

We had a call, out of the blue, from a BBC researcher, whose friend had stayed with us. They were making a SoP programme in which Aled Jones was walking the Northumberland coast, and they wanted him to meet some people along the way. Aled was a really nice, ordinary chap, and didn’t seem at all like a megastar. I even helped him connect his iPhone to our wireless network.

The resulting programme was really good – a great advert for our region (although I’m sure SoP wouldn’t see themselves as tour guides.) We were really glad to be part of it, telling something of the story and ethos of SCH - and getting a free plug on BBC1 which my marketing friends would dream of. Perhaps I won’t let on to them that this was entirely incidental – even accidental – and let them think its all part of our carefully co-ordinated marketing strategy. Cool.

Our little contribution to the programme is here in a video panel, (and it also contains the programme's introduction, so it's 4 mins in total) and the whole programme is available to watch for one week on BBC iPlayer. After that, you’ll have to buy a copy of the DVD from our Publicity Materials and Marketing Promotional Activities Reinforcement Catalogue.

Keeping our eye on the ball

2009-01-19T20:56:00.002Z

A little while ago, in the early evening, Jill and I were just about to step out of the door to go play a gig, when the phone rang - we love to play music in several different contexts, but most of all just as the two of us. We were off to do a charity gig in a pub in one of the local villages. ‘Charity gig’ is an insider’s term referring to the process of spending hours transporting and setting up heavy musical instruments and equipment, and carrying it all back into the house in the dead of night, having given a performance you didn’t get paid for - and which describes most of our gigs. Actually, this one was better than most, because we were offered a ‘free bar’. I seriously contemplated getting a taxi home and getting my money’s worth, so to speak. We had a great night though, and we’ve been asked to go back – and get paid! – for the Leek Club prize-giving in a few weeks. Those dudes really know how to seriously party. Anyway, I digress… I was saying that we were just leaving when the phone rang, and Jill answered it. It was someone enquiring about accommodation for Valentine’s weekend, which is coming up soon, and Jill gave them the details they were looking for, and we left.

In the car, I tried as tactfully as possible to gently tell her that I thought she could have handled the call better. As you can imagine, she thanked me for my kind and gentle counsel. Not. But a few minutes later we were singing smoochy love songs together, so everything turned out ok. (We start slow, and rip it up in the second half, see…)

The point is, she gave the enquirer the details they were looking for. And that, in our view (especially Jill’s) is just not good enough. The Tourism head honcho I wrote about in an earlier post – the one who gave the interview, remember? – was panned for saying that some people are born to provide service, and others to receive it. The media read all kinds of sinister and un-pc meaning into this comment (man, I bet his PR and media department are frantically scurrying about fixing things after that interview) but I think I understood what he meant. Because we love to go the extra mile. Our mantra in life, long before being in business here, and especially in marriage (although Jill has eclipsed my efforts in that context) is that the way to be happy is to make someone else happy. It sounds daft, and maybe trite written baldly like that, but it just works. It does! When there’s depth, integrity and maturity woven into that approach, it changes everything.

So in our dealing with guests - the people who really matter in our business - we always aim to go the extra mile. In a quiet, understated sort of way you understand. Start with a smile which isn’t fake or forced, and a genuine interest in the person you’re dealing with – we think that’s called ‘respect’ - and the rest just seems to follow. This is how we deal with people, and I guess if we ever employ someone to work alongside us here, we’ll need to find a way to articulate it to them. But you can only train someone to have more skills, not a better attitude. That comes from a different place.

So when I heard Jill answering the questions and giving (only) perfectly accurate information, I knew that it was because she was hassled and we were already late. We are human after all. I don’t think the person on the other end would have any cause to be disappointed, but on reflection, we didn’t think they’d have gone away saying ‘I just had a really pleasant conversation…’ And that’s what Jill would have wanted.

Anyway, the lady called back a few days later and booked a room, so it all turned out well - that Valentine’s weekend package is going to be just fantastic!

Janet stands her ground. No surprise there then.

2009-01-14T22:17:00.000Z

I had a very friendly email from Janet Street-Porter today. She said she was away from home, and had been very busy, which was why she hadn't replied the first time. I think she was a bit cross at my rebuke really.

She said that she's 'stayed at enough crap places to write what I did.' No, really, that's what she said. And that she stayed at a hotel near us last year which 'left a lot to be desired.' And a luxury hotel in Edinburgh was 'totally useless.'

She says that she knows there are some great B&B's in the UK, but many have untrained staff, poor standards of hygiene and lousy service. Towards the end, she was clearly getting up a head of steam when she wrote: 'many places have no idea, and don't tell me the internet makes it easier to find out.' But I think it does Janet, I think it does... However, she's 'sure we're doing a great job', and - here's the thing - 'I will try and visit later in the year.' Great! I hope she can make it. I wonder if she'll pack her two shower-caps.

I thought about writing back to Janet to tell her that I don't even manage to reply to all my email - and I'm sure she gets a ton more than me, judging by how provocative she tries to be most days in her column - and so I'm sorry I considered her rude more quickly than I should have. I should tell her it was kind of her to write back, don't you think?

Swimming against the tide. A bit.

2009-01-10T22:49:00.003Z

The media seems to love bad news, and is having a great time with this recession gig. I’m pretty sure that things aren’t really as bad as they say, but that what we have here is the fulfilment of their prophecy, which becomes self-fulfilling if they beat the drum loudly enough. (Don’t rant at me; I’m losing some of my paid employment this year too…)

Anyway, this week the head honcho at Visit Britain gave an interview about the challenges facing the UK hospitality industry in these difficult times. The papers reported this as him saying that we are so crap at welcoming and looking after people, that several gazillion jobs will disappear in the hospitality industry by tomorrow morning. That’s my summary of their reports, but it was along those lines. This made front page headlines in the Independent, which I read (pretending to be well-informed and broad-minded.)

This came a day after Janet Street-Porter – who we warmed to, despite her brash and provocative style, when she championed Northumberland in ‘Britain’s Favourite Place’, or whatever – had written her second piece in three weeks about how crap we are at welcoming and looking after people.

Actually, she went further – she said that when she goes away, she takes some essential travelling items with her. Reasonable? Yes – but she takes two showercaps, to put on each of her feet in order to avoid various carpet-transmitted diseases, and a blanket to cover the bed before she sits down on it. And so it went on. (Frankly, I’d sack the logistics person - who's booking these places?)

I spent a whole morning (don’t tell Jill) writing indignant responses to the Indy letters page, and J S-P. Actually, three weeks earlier, following her last diatribe about bad hospitality in UK, I had already written to J S-P, inviting her for a freebie to SCH (an abbreviation which I shall henceforth use for St Cuthbert’s House, ok?). I even said I would collect her from the station, because I know how busy she is. She didn’t reply. I think this is rude. Even if you couldn’t come, you would reply, wouldn’t you? So my second email to her was perhaps less respectful. Wanna see it? Oh, OK then. Here’s what I wrote – it was very likely a waste of electrons, but it made me feel better:

Janet, you've gone and done it again…

I wrote to you a few weeks ago, asking you to come to Northumberland (a place I know you love) but you didn't respond. Then this week, there you go again, moaning about horrible hotels and guest houses, and detailing how to put shower-caps on your feet in order to avoid disease.

There are good and bad examples in every trade and industry in this country. The good news in the hospitality sector is that we, as consumers, have more power than ever to simply wipe out the ones who don't go the extra mile. You need never be surprised at what you find when you check into a hotel or guest house again. Sites like tripadvisor.com allow us to post real-world reviews and experiences, so if you check what other people have said about a particular place, the element of uncertainty is pretty largely removed. Although its far from being a perfect or fool-proof system, the savvy traveller is no longer taking 'pot-luck' Janet, and you do neither yourself nor the industry any favours by staying in places you should not.

We run a Gold-Award winning accommodation business in a unique and fascinating building - a former church - on the stunning Northumberland coast. We take great pleasure in surpassing guests' expectations, and going the extra mile. We will not be embarrassed 'when the tide goes out'. But, give us a break - please stop reinforcing the message that all accommodation in England is rubbish. Show people how to be discerning, by effectively researching their trip, and the problem of grim accommodation will pretty much go away. And, one more thing - I ask you, please, to redress the balance a bit for our industry as a whole, by accepting our invitation to St Cuthbert's House, and then write even one tiny sentence to show people that it's possible to stay overnight in Britain without needing a decontamination suit.

What do you think?

Yours frustrated,
Jeff

Sometimes it's hard to know where you're going, or what you'll find along the way. So let's just set out then.

2009-01-10T22:32:00.000Z

Well, here we are then. St Cuthbert’s blog. Except he didn’t have such distractions – and I’m sure life must have been a whole lot simpler. We have websites, online booking tools, and now – a blog! I’m not sure how a guest house can make use of a blog really… but maybe we’ll find out over the coming weeks. Actually, it’s not about ‘making use’ of the blog in commercial terms – maybe it will just be a place for me to ramble on about nonsense. We’ll see. A journey of discovery. We like that.

We’ve really enjoyed getting the house working as a place of welcome and hospitality. The construction phase was great fun, and very creative, mind you. But really, this is why we did it. We like having people around (well, most of the time…) and we like to hear their stories. Sometimes guests come, and then they go – and that’s ok, isn’t it? We’ve usually each enjoyed a brief encounter (although not of the Celia Johnson/Trevor Howard kind, you understand) and then life moves on. But sometimes we share more than that - over a cup of tea or a glass of wine we find that lives intersect briefly, and we make friends. In some cases, deep friends.

Each of us has to play our part in enabling this to happen. We each have to make time to listen, and be prepared to talk, of course… but now, we usually say that St Cuthbert’s House is ‘much more than just a place to stay’, because time and again we see the… what is it… the ‘atmosphere’, the ‘ambience’, the ‘ethos’ – call it what you want - but there is something about this place which makes it a place of rest and reflection, for many. Just like it has been for 200 years.

So – welcome to the St Cuthbert’s House blog. We look forward to travelling with you.