Yesterday we went to London. After several years running a pub I began to realise that, unless I planned to do something specific, days simply merged into each other and I never took a day off. So yesterday we went to London. We went to see the Brian Haw exhibit at the Tate Britain, to Knightsbridge, Chinatown and then to the International Mime Festival (Ok, so that was a bit of a mistake. Sometimes you win, sometimes you don't).
Around midday I phoned back to base to find out how things were going. I was told everything was fine except for the people in room five who had not vacated their room until very late and then, when the cleaner went in, discovered vomit everywhere - on carpets, curtains, bedding. This was going to put a bit of a damper on the rest of the day.
Such an event is not uncommon in pubs. Generally it is in the gents and can be easily disposed of with the minimum of fuss.
(For those new to the trade can I recommend the efficacy of cat litter. Gently strewn over the offensive matter, it absorbs the liquid, eliminates the smell and can be painlessly swept up. Keep a bag in the cleaning cupboard.)
Clearing up some mess is unpleasant but a necessary evil of what we do. But when it is over the upholstery and bedding I find it a little unnecessary. I'd struggle to sort it. I prefer drains.
But my cleaner dealt with it without fuss. Heroes can emerge from strange places.