Sometimes, The World Makes No Sense
Not long after I first moved into this neighbourhood, back before I bought the flat and was living with Chris round the corner, we came upon the opening day of a restaurant in the area. The couple who ran the place, Ray and Rebecca, were wonderful, he was the chef, she looked after the front of house. They had set up there with a specific aim to bring something new to the community, and they certainly did - I like to think it was heart. They had a very clear vision of what they wanted for the place. Somewhere people could go to for an evening, where they didn't turn tables, and if you wanted to linger over coffee for three times as long as you had over the meal, that was okay. A place where Ray and Rebecca were likely to give you a round of drinks on the house and come and join you for a chat at the end of the evening. The food, which Ray sourced all the ingedients for from suppliers he knew and trusted, was always brilliant, and the wine list as distinctive and impressive as everything else.
Ray and Rebecca had their ups and downs, and eventually there was just Ray, his sons, and their wonderful waiting staff, led by José, from Portugal, who everyone fancied 
I haven't been in for a while - pressures of work and time and such kept me occupied, though I kept thinking I'd wander along with a book one evening and just enjoy the food and the atmosphere as I've done in the past. There was something about the place that created a sense of community and welcome. It was the kind of place that every neighbourhood should have, but few do, and it was, in a very specific way, an extension of its owner's personality.
I went past last night for the first time in a while and discovered the place closed up and messages and cards of sympathy arranged outside, with flowers and candles. Ray, it seemed, had died.
And now I've found out what happened.
Ray was murdered by someone who he'd refused to serve more wine to one night, who'd come back later with a knife and stabbed him to death.
There are simply no words to describe how I feel just at the moment. Though my toast this evening won't only be to the concept of 'home' any more.
August 25th, 2003 - 20:45
you have to wonder what the hell is going on with society when a person is stabbed to death for refusing to serve someone more drink.
a great place to go for a meal, i just wish i had gone back there again sooner….
August 26th, 2003 - 13:10
that’s horrible … really, really horrible.
September 4th, 2003 - 16:29
thinking about it now, it still makes no sense to me.
i can’t understand *ever* being that upset, maybe i’m just not that kind of person, i (hope i ) don’t know anyone who is, but surely all things in perspective. was not being served more drink worth taking someone’s life for ?
i think not.
as you say jon, the world makes no sense.