Last week, last Wednesday to be precise, Julie over at Sow, Sew, So wrote a blog that really resonated with me; and the next thing I knew I was taking a little trip down memory lane. She was talking about how she used to be able to stay up late and never seemed to get tired. Boy oh boy, do I ever get that.
When I was in my twenties, back in Montreal, I don’t think I got four hours sleep a night. I’d work all day. Then I’d meet a friend at her favourite bar — Tiffany’s on Crescent Street. It’s gone now, sadly. It was in a Victorian style house — the bar was on the main floor and there was a terrific restaurant, owned by the same guy — George Durst — upstairs. At that time he was Montreal’s club king; and he was definitely a very strange guy, okay creepy. He had two pet cheetahs he would walk on leashes, like a couple of dogs. They Continue reading