rosanne and Joe at their best!

I woke up the next morning, not quite refreshed after my two days off, but at least I had managed to build up some energy for the multiple tasks that were waiting to be done. It was raining cats and dogs, but that never bothered me when I had to work, as the only days I was concerned about was my days off.
Rosanne came in at about eleven, just as I was finishing off in the diningroom, and said that she realized how much extra work I was doing, so she would do the steakpies and lasange, and also some baking, and I felt a great surge of relieve, as usually after I was off, everything was depleted or finished, Vince just not able to cook of course. I could however see that Rosanne did not want to be there at all.
I was just leaving the diningroom when the door from the street opened, and two rain drenched figures, that of a man and a young boy came struggling in, looked at me hopefully, and asked if they could have a coffee, and maybe a small breakfast. I had not finished clearing up in the kitchen, so I went to ask Rosanne if it was okay, and this madam, by now very cross at the amount of cooking and baking she had to still do, gave a roar like an angry lion, and told me loud and clearly that if I was so f....g generous and nice, by all means I could give the f....g people breakfast. I was absolutely aghast, as this conversation happened just outside the small pub leading to the restaurant where the two were sitting, unbeknowest to Rosanne and was of course overheard by the man and his son.
I was blushing and stammering when I went to tell them that I would indeed give them breakfast and coffee, although they did not look so eager anymore, but we were the only bed and breakfast that offered breakfast to passers by, up to ten, that is, so they stayed, and I made their breakfast extra nice, with two eggs, and two sausages instead of the usual one of each.
I was busy stacking the dishwasher, when a hugely upset Rosanne came storming in, and I could see that I had to either run, and was actually getting into a running stance, or try to calm her down, as she looked at me with loathing, shouting: 'Why the f...k did you not tell me that it was f....g Sandy Lyle!' As I had never seen Sandy Lyle from close-up, and only ever saw him when I watched the golf on the telly, and regularly did his pizza orders, I would never in my life had given a thought to the fact that this wetter than wet man was indeed the great Scottish golf player! It took a few days for her to forgive me.
Liz also had a story to tell, one about Joe and his stingyness. I say stingyness, but he was never funny about what I ate, or how much coffees I had, or things like that, but he was always looking for bargains when it came to cleaning stuff, or washing powder, and such like. So that morning he told Liz that he had bought this phenominal stuff to clean the tiles in the toilets with, that being the wall tiles. And what is so nice about it he crooned, very pleased with his find, is that you just spray it on and leave it, saving a lot of time, but Liz did not want to save a lot of time and cut her hours, but she sprayed it on, and left it, and went home after doing the pub.
Later that evening there was an earsplitting bellow from Joe, after which he came rushing into the pub from the toilets, demanding to know what was going on in the toilets. All of us hurried to see what he meant, and stood in awe at the artworks that was left where Liz had sprayed Joe's wonder cleaner on, and on his instructions, left. Then Rosanne and self and the waiters started laughing uproariously, as the tiles were covered with the most wonderful stripes and forms in bright green as the cleaner had run down, then met each other, to make the weirdest shapes. Joe was not impressed, and refused to see the funny side, but the next day Liz's artwork were highly commended by all!