The Beast is back , and what a weekend its been !.
As we know it was finally , completion on Cafe C .
Friday started so well , early optimistic start with Mr C , we trundled off to Dorchester for Mr C to check inventory and sign contracts and pick up keys and stuff.
Sadly the current owners had flogged off half the inventory and left the kitchens and accommodation in an absolute disgusting state.
To cut a long story short Mr C had a justified major tantrum .I don't think the hapless fools knew what hit them . The one thing that stood out in the dreadful verbal mauling was Mr C's wild protestations that he had just packed up and moved from his house leaving it spotless.
Beast had to make a conscious effort at this point , not to run screaming from the building before the Thunderbolt of Truth struck leaving nothing but a smoldering crater .
What a fibber......anyways , eventually exchange and completion was achieved , after replacement of disputed inventory and the current owners limped off , sobbing gently ,with the seats ripped out of their pants .
Then began a weekend of hard labour , deep kitchen and apartment clean , furniture move etc etc . Frobisher and Family C , were all roped in to join the merry throng.
Beasts final task was to go and clear out the vacated Mincer Cottage , which has purportedly been left spotless .....pah.... three hours of furious cleaning later a broken Beast tackled the final room
THE BEDROOM OF DOOM
Now it looked like someone had emptied the bins in there , there was a morass of paper and general detritus all over the floor , So I swept it all into a big pile and bagged it ready for the refuse collectors.
How wrong I was , imagine how foolish I felt when it transpired that this was a fiendishly complex organic filing system and I inadvertently binned some 'VERY IMPORTANT DOCUMENTS' that were precision placed in amongst the half eaten pork pies , beer cans, odd socks , old underpants and dismembered newspapers.
Following a terrible lecture and Mr C 's torchlit scrabbling in refuse bags a chasened Beast departed clutching his asthmatically wheezing dyson , fleeing across the moonlit Dorset countryside pursued by damning text messages like the veritable bats out of hell.
On the plus side Mincer Cottage wasn't just clean......IT WAS FECKING BEAST CLEAN , BABY!