Saturday, busy all the day through. The whole restaurant; the back tied up by a party of (~50) that make themselves at home the entire day, coming and going, the front of the restaurant reserved for our regular customers. The party, locals, and largely bad tippers who've overcome their disdain of the place to celebrate ***** and not tip JR.
A long day of moving tables and setting up/taking down a party that was far, far more hassle then it was worth, but they knew that going in.
Then, 5:15, who should appear but Stephen the Writer, Stephen from Gastown, now from Creston, and it's good to see him.
Funny to say, but I'd been expecting him. I work at the Crossroads, I see everyone.
And so we catch up, best we can, I've a lot of other tables and the party in the back is making things troublesome.
It's good to see him and he's astonished by the "Coincidence" of our reacquaintance. I'm not so astonished.
He makes his ferry, the night proceeds, busy, a pair from Kaslo that are giving me updates on places to rent - and this is good, because - sooner or later I'm going to need a place to live (later I'm thinking...) but the first thing at the moment - the first thing - is to get the CRV back on the road in tip-top condition, and to pay down a few of the winter bills. Because there are a lot of bills...
...and then get back up the mountain...