I’d spent most of the day on the road, driving from Montreal to Toronto specifically for the midweek concert. At the time, I was working for a bookstore chain as a lowly management trainee, which among its many benefits was if management becked, I called. I had hired on with the company in Toronto and had only been working there for a few months when they asked me to do a stint in one of their Montreal stores, which was short-staffed and needed someone who could speak French. So me and my rusty French headed back down the road to Montreal for a six-week stretch, with the proviso that I simply had to have two days off to get back to Toronto to see Van on October 25. “Oui, oui, mademoiselle.” (more…)