Evelyn Chingford Find A Prostitute ❤️

About London

Growling, “You merely adopted the dark,” I clocked her quick—fake lashes, chipped nails, probs a mum tryna eat. Sad, innit? Made me ragey—world’s a dumpster fire, pushin’ folks to this. But she was chill, cracked a joke—“What’s with the mask, Batman?”—and I’m wheezin’, like, “Love, I’m Bane, not that prat!” Had a giggle, eased the tension.

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First off, I woke up late. Classic me. Alarm didn’t go off. I’m sprinting down Chingford Mount, dodging the morning traffic like I’m in some sort of action movie. I swear, if I had a pound for every time I nearly got run over, I’d be rich. Anyway, I finally make it to the library, and guess what? The door’s locked! I’m banging on it like a madwoman. Turns out, the staff meeting ran over. Ugh, typical.

Then and Now: The Royal Oak in Sewardstone Road, Chingford