Tripped-Up-Advisor

Every evening we run through the order of the evening with the team, and on one particular night we had a small party who were planning to do some speeches. Sarah was a little concerned that the briefing hadn’t been entirely clear when Juan later asked Sarah “When do we make the toast?”

New member of staff “Do you use elbow grease?”
Gill (a Gilpinite for 20 years) “Yes I do”
New member of staff “I’ve been looking for it everywhere, where do I get it?”

Gilpin Lodge are proud to announce the birth of their new kitten Lignip. Born on 22nd October, 2011 @ 23.45 to Big Bertha from Grasmere and Stripy Malone from Patterdale. Both mother and kitten are doing well. X

Dr Gerald Woolfson, a senior consultant psychiatrist working in London reserves a niche of his hedonistic self-indulgence in food to the lowly kipper, whose taxonomy and taste he has followed for so many years all over the world that 1917 (which he admits may be poetic licence) is firmly stuck in his mind as the last time he tasted kippers so tastily prepared for breakfast as those served to him at Gilpin Lodge this morning (9 Oct ’11).

Guest “It’s a mystery. My plants have gone!”
Reception “Where did you last leave them?”
Guest “On the patio outside our bedroom.”
Reception “We’ll see if we can find them for you.”

A little later, the mystery was solved…

Reception “I’m so sorry Madam, but the gardener spotted the plants and presumed Christine had bought them for the garden and has planted them. Please allow us to replace them?”

Guest turns to Richard in the bar, “Richard, I don’t think much of your new nuts”. Richard replies “that’s because your eating the olive stones Sir”.

For those who do not know Richard, he has been at Gilpin for 22 years and is exceedingly proper in his manners and behaviour. An Equerry to the Queen would probably be his calling if he was not at Gilpin. A guest therefore got the better of him one day when he ordered the Sunday Sport, wrote Richards name on the paper and left it in the hotel lounge paper rack.

“Welcome Mr Al Dash Aljul, would you mind signing in for me?” said Richard. Looking strangely at Richard, the guest wrote in the signing-in book “Mr Al-Aljul”. Oops.

An enormous storm hits Cumbria through the night, felling 15,000 trees in Grizedale alone. In front of Gilpin a 200 year old beech tree is felled, blocking the front drive, uprooting a car park and destroying part of the old stables; several cars have disappeared under the wreckage. Most roads are completely closed. Despite all of this, most of the team heroically arrive, many having walked 2 miles from Bowness, climbing over felled trees, and amazingly only slightly late.

On arriving in still stormy conditions, almost ducking under the felled limbs of the beech tree, Sarah is greeted by a guest standing on the front porch (who was looking out onto the carnage) complaining “Why haven’t the newspapers arrived, where are they?”.

A particularly hot summer had caused an unusual number of flies to abound in the fields, which then had the audacity to visit Gilpin. To combat the problem, Barney invested in a nifty device he had recently discovered, an electric fly trap in the shape of a tennis racket. The strings of the racket are electrified, enabling the user to zap the fly in flight.

It was so hot (yes, this is a true story) that the windows had to be kept open, and restaurant staff were encouraged to play tennis before service to clear the restaurant of any flies. A guest had earlier observed this strange behaviour and later in the evening, when the restaurant was full, asked Barney what it was all about.

Barney decided to bring out the electric racket to demonstrate it’s use, being careful to point out that one should never touch the strings as it gives a nasty shock. Just as he said this, he accidentally touched the strings and being somewhat surprised, inadvertently shouted s**t in the middle of the restaurant. The guests to this day are impressed with both the real life demonstration and Barney’s commitment to entertaining them.