Cottingham tearoom owner Kasha tells of her fight against the odds

The Old Lamp Room at Cottingham station

Weeks after Kasha Gravill opened her tearoom, the country was plunged into lockdown. The cost-of-living crisis swiftly followed. Before Christmas, she was told she had terminal cancer. Despite this, Kasha continues to be a beacon of positivity in her community. BBC News' Kevin Shoesmith went along to meet her.

"If I didn't have any bad luck, I'd have no luck at all," quips Kasha, between gulps of tea in a corner of The Old Lamp Room, once an outbuilding used to trim wicks for workers' lamps at Cottingham station.

She recognises how, in light of three major traumas to befall her, that statement may appear flippant. But she assures me, without prompting, this is a fair reflection of how she sees her predicament.

"This isn't a front - it's me," she says, matter-of-factly. "It's sink or swim, fight or flight. I've chosen to swim and fight.

"It will not get me down."

Like the lamps that once lit the way for railwaymen, she has become a ray of light in England's largest village.

Kasha Gravill, left, with regular customer Christine Wilson

The Old Lamp Room is a stone's throw from Platform 2, with the business enjoying plenty of trade from passengers.

"Patients come from all over to attend appointments at Queen's Centre for Oncology and Haematology here in Cottingham," she tells me. "They'll often come in for a cuppa and a slice of cake. I realised, through our social media, that I could help them, so I have started to tell my story on there, helping reassure others."

Kasha tells how she had been fearing a bone biopsy after reading horror stories online. "The reality, when I had it done, was very different to what I'd read. It was over with so quickly and I wasn't in any pain, only a little discomfort. I decided to share that experience."

At the entrance, Kasha has placed a chalkboard sign. On it, is the 'quote of the day' - "You can't measure a dream!"

"I'd always wanted my own tearoom," says the 57-year-old mother-of-one. "It really was my dream. When I was shown this battered old building I remember saying, 'you are having a laugh'. It was in such a poor condition and so small. But the size has served us well because we have created a lovely, intimate place."

Kasha pictured in 2018 during the refurbishment

Kasha roped in her partner of 21 years, Mark Vines, to help transform the building into what it is today, completing the majority of the work themselves. "I broke a fair few fingernails in the process," she laughs, handing over a book containing photographs charting the transformation. "We literally took it back to its bare bricks."

The Old Lamp Room, leased from Northern Rail and Network Rail, opened in 2020.

"Five weeks after opening, the country was placed in lockdown," explains Kasha. "We were heavily restricted as to what we could do. But we found a way. We served food through a hatch and we started delivering food. People were going mad for afternoon teas. One haulage firm even placed an order for 250 cream teas."

Sasha breaks off to bid farewell to two customers.

We pick up again at the cost-of-living crisis.

"We'd just turned a corner then prices went up," she says. "It's been ridiculously hard. But we can't have customers sitting in the cold. We make our food from scratch, so costs are high. Getting hold of ingredients has been really hard; at one point we couldn't get hold of flour and enough eggs.

"Our chef Louis has been fantastic throughout, producing cost-effective food with whatever we could get hold of. Dishes have had to change week to week due to shortages."

Last November, Kasha was given the news she had cancer. And it was terminal.

"I'd had a bad back for some time," says Kasha. "But being busy I'd put off going to see someone about it. One day I collapsed. A scan showed the secondary cancer was in my back."

The primary cancer was later traced to her breast, although she points out there was no lump.

"I cried," says Kasha. "I still have good and bad days now but staying positive is massively important to me. The inevitable will happen, as it will everyone, but I've been given a heads-up. I can get all my ducks lined up. I see myself as fortunate."

Customers speak highly of Kasha. Christine Wilson, who comes here every day, tells me: "I'm devastated for her. I'm also in awe of her."

Kasha says baking is helping her stay positive throughout her trauma

Kasha tells me a "prerequisite" of working here is being positive.

"We leave our sadness at the door," she says. "That's Kasha's Law. When you come here, you're surrounded my friends and laughter."

I find assistant Sarah Smith dishing up a slice of cake and ask her to describe her employer. "Absolutely potty," she laughs. "But a lovely, lovely lady. She has proven nothing is going to stop her and we're all helping her do that."

Kasha notices a spot of woodwork that requires a lick of paint.

"We'll have to do something about that," she says, turning to her partner who tells me: "She never stops."

Kasha laughs. "I work best under extreme stress, and while I still have one breath in my body I will keep going."

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