Confessional

What the holiday let owner thinks about you

I DREAD the aftermath of half term. I know that when I go to clean, it will look like a boarding school for delinquents has just moved out — scuffed floors, cereal everywhere, and I guarantee they’ll have eaten food in bed and got stains and crumbs on the sheets.

My cottage is in a lovely spot on the Suffolk coast and rented by middle-class families. I thought they’d be easy, but they seem to expect a five-star hotel.

One well-spoken woman rang me at 11.30pm to ask if I had an iPad she could borrow — her teenage son’s had broken.

Another family asked if anyone might ever have prepared nuts in the kitchen, because her daughter was allergic.

I leave a basket of basics — bread, milk and butter — but I’ve had messages asking for the bread to be gluten-free and the milk to be organic. Then there’s the stuff people leave behind.

One toddler forgot his stuffed panda and all hell broke loose — the dad was on the phone, demanding I post it next-day delivery. I knew they’d never reimburse me, but I did it anyway. Otherwise they’d go to review sites and put the boot in.

I’ve found knickers in the beds and rubbish behind cushions — but far worse is the loo. Last summer, I spent four hours unblocking the tank.

Holidaymakers expect every whim to be catered for. One family asked me to drive them 20 miles to a restaurant because the local taxi firm was busy.

It cemented my feeling that most of them are ungrateful and over entitled. I’d rather they went to France next year and left me alone.