How could I possibly forget Wednesday 30th June 1981? This was the day when, with a certain amount of trepidation, I actually opened my teashop, Polly's in Bourne. At last, my long burning ambition was coming to fruition, albeit after a very long wait. But my excitement was tinged with a slight worry. Was I too old at 50 to embark upon such a major project? With a husband in banking, and having to move house so many times during his career, there was no way that a teashop could feature in our plans. 

However, when we moved to Bourne where we eventually hoped to retire, it brought my teashop dream back on the drawing board. The premises in North Street, which Jim negotiated for me, could not have been in a better position, next door to Woolworth's in the main shopping street of the town. To say that I was excited had to be the understatement of the year. 

For the next six months, all our spare time was spent decorating the shop because it turned out to be in very poor repair. My ever cautious bank manager husband gave me a budget of only £1,500, the amount that he was prepared to spend on this project, and so we could not possibly afford to employ tradesmen. All our tables and chairs were bought at auction sales and sheets were dyed for tablecloths. In fact, the only new items were the carpet and the ultra pretty china with a rose chintz design that we purchased from Johnson's at Stoke on Trent. 

Polly's was named after Jim's mother and it looked a picture on that opening day in 1981, a vision of pale pink and pale green, even down to the colour of the serviettes. We talked about Polly as our third daughter but she certainly turned out to be much more demanding than our first two offsprings! Living so close to the teashop, I did all my baking at home and after only a few months, I knew that Polly's was here to stay. My poor cooker didn't know what had hit it. Morning, noon and night, I churned out scones, sausage rolls, a wide variety of cakes and desserts, quiches and so on. All most rewarding, but oh so tiring too. 

It was during this period that my back began to give me real problems, so much so that I ended up at a specialist in London's Wimpole Street who told me that my back had not liked my change of lifestyle. After all, I used to have a sedentary job before Polly arrived. Looking back, I suppose that this was the beginning of the end. It seems strange to say that Polly's was too successful, but that is what it amounted to. Having said all this, I did last almost five years before selling the business as a going concern to Pauline Bampton, who ran Polly's for ten years. 

At the moment, the fourth owner continues to provide a nice little cosy haven for shoppers to rest their weary legs and we continue to pop in about once per week. Yes, things have inevitably changed as each new owner has implemented his or her new ideas but one thing has remained the same and that is the menu, although the prices are another matter. 

I only hope that Polly's Tea Shop is here to stay. It really would break my heart to see it lose favour and die. After all, deep down, I still look upon it as my baby.
 

See also Betty James