the final countdown

it's a bit odd, leaving The Restaurant. I get attached to places (not easily, but over time), and everywhere i've lived, i've had a place like The Restaurant as a kind of sanctuary. A place that runs on its own chaotic rhythms - where you can get a breakfast before anyone else is out of bed or a drink long after the bar has closed - and where you're almost never alone. in the best places it is the promise of pure welcome. in the worst case, you come in smiling and have to deal with a co-worker who is even more surly than the customers.

which isn't exactly a trial, either.

i've been at The Restaurant for almost two and a half years. i've been in england for nearly three. my life here, to a significant degree, has been conditioned by my crappy schedule, the whims of the owners, whether or not the punters were feeling generous and actually left a tip that weekend, whatever bootleg dvds are going around, and a million other minor events in and around The Restaurant. k and i have done some good work, met some real jerks and made some very close friends. and even though it is clearly time to move on, i'm going to miss it.

but not on sundays.