Taking Care of Business
Very much business conducted at the Griffin this week. My bet on Sean was well-placed: four pints in I laid out the whole story behind his close calls with death, and he laughed uproariously. The fellow can be genuinely good-natured at times. A short while later, I pointed out to Sean the very man responsible, as he slipped in through the backdoor well laden with crates, and Sean laughed still more. He excused himself to address the miscreant, and I, feeling the ale resting heavy on me, decided to weigh anchor and head for port.
The distinct memory of which decision (to return to Jack's) contrasts strongly with the real fact of waking up, once again, and with a headache, at the Crimson Unicorn.
Tonight I meet once more with Jack. I have decided to approach him once again about a plan to start importing tea straight to London some time ago - the Portugese or Dutch are responsible for most of it at the moment - when we were loudly interrupted by Sean's violent, and i must say, even up to this point, unbalanced, entrance into our lives. He has been in quite a state ever since he had word of poor sweet Liza's mother-in-law's impending arrival; I have hope that the potential for vast profit will break his foul mood.