Tweed did once he got out that capacious shop door was a mystery to
all but those closest to him, but it wasn't hard to figure out. Only
the location remained unknown to most of us.
Apparently, he and a close knit group of imbibing cohorts had staked out a claim along a rock wall somewhere up the street from the shop. Much drinking, carousing, cavorting and dousing commenced upon work's expiry, with particular emphasis on Fridays.
Tweed might often be heard to utter such profundities as, “come Friday at the wall, I'll be layin' down next to it.”