CAVENDISH HOTEL

At school a chum and I alternated in being at the bottom of the class. Eventually I achieved three “O” levels and left our expensive public boarding school at age 16. But God gifts us all with something, and in my case it was an ability to write. So I went to catering college. (“People must eat and they will drink” reasoned my father).

Fast forward 35 years to the post Thatcher recession of 1994. Desperate Government departments were created to help industry recover. “Consult a consultant” advised the Department of Something or Other. So we did, and they used our taxes to pay for him. “Produce a Newsletter” advised The Consultant, after explaining why Government would only pay for the appetiser, but this tax payer must pay for the meat. “Who will write it?” asks yours truly.

Silence.

That was 27 editions ago, and as that same silence still hangs unbroken here is yours truly’s biannual contribution to your mail box and waste bin.

Actually I had hoped that with time readers’ interest in it would wane, thus relieving me of this particular duty and thereby facilitate my earlier attendance at the pub. But people seem to enjoy it. Not alas to the extent that they will pay a couple of hundred quid to stay at the Cavendish just to be sent Eric’s Newsletter , which is this scheming innkeeper’s intention, but numerous comments indicate readers do enjoy the read, especially as you can do so for less than £200 by just popping in for a cup of coffee.

Avid collectors of The Newsletter - alas the number halved when my mother died - may be aware that this being my 65^th year (on the planet, not at the Cavendish) it coincides with the termination of my lease with landlords Chatsworth, so, dear reader, this might be The Last Newsletter. Therefore I thought I would use the opportunity to review some previous now historic editions, an excuse regularly used by desperate editors to fill the page.

The first - 1994 - edition seems rather basic now, but included a questionnaire for readers comments, not withstanding which we pressed on…; in 1995 we boasted more awards, and recommended investment in fine wine; in 1996 I announced introduction of non-smoking in much of the hotel, and made first mention of my family’s cats, which have been a topic ever since and considered by many (sad) readers to be the best bit; 1996’s edition included a report  on my bi-ennial trip to USA, and I spoke of a new communication device called e-mail; in 1997 we achieved Investors in People  and acquired the nearby George Hotel in Hathersage; in 1998 I reported test flying my aeroplane, having taken 5 years to build a 2 year project; 1999’s edition saddened its readers with my announcement of the death of Leo, the worlds only three legged talking cat, soon followed by his companion Lotte… and my even greater sadness at their swift replacement by Wallace and Gromit. 2000 contained a report on the anti-climactic “new” Millennium, and after 25 years of living onsite at the Cavendish Liz and I moved with the last of our four children to our own house in Bakewell. Unfortunately the cats accompanied us. 2001 brought foot and mouth disease with unexpectedly expensive repercussions, but Chatsworth elected to stay open until Christmas, which they still do, to everyone’s benefit. My brother Peter, a life-long bachelor, fell in love and married all in the first half of 2002. “Still enjoying sex at 59” I said in my best man’s speech. “Ok when you lived at 57, but now that must stop”. 2003’s Newsletter reported winter renovations, soaring business, progress on aeroplanes, The George Hotel, those damn cats and, sadly, the death of my mother aged 85. It also included an account of a diner who not only complained there was no potato in his dish (none was advertised), but sought compensation for its absence. It reached the courts, as well as national press and local TV and, predictably, cost the complainant more than a little compensation. In 2004 the Eleventh Duke of Devonshire died, which appeared in a unique four page Newsletter which contained precious little else of import. In 2005 my daughter Erika celebrated her marriage to Peter at the Cavendish, and my son Christopher travelled round the world and we met in Oz. 2006’s Newsletter reported our management team’s annual familiarization trip,  this time to a competitor hotel in the Cotswolds, and eventual achievement of grandparent hood by my wife and me. And finally, last years Newsletter was not unlike all the others, in that it too contained nothing other than meaningless waffle. Unless of course you are interested in cats.

With the end of my lease pending at the Cavendish, I need to decide what to do with the pictures there - nearly 400 of them! A number of options is being considered, including transfer to our George Hotel (some have already been incorporated in the latest scheme), leave at the Cavendish, or sell individually. Several hotel clients have already offered to buy, so if you are interested in any particular picture please contact me personally. They won’t be as expensive as you might think…