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About London

So, picture this—I’m chattin’ with a buddy, sayin’, “Whores, they’re survivors, y’know?” Been around forever—fact is, oldest job in the book. Babylon, Rome, even Shakespeare’s London—whores were there, hustlin’. Makes me happy, sorta—grit’s admirable, right? But then, bam, I get pissed—society’s all judgy, callin’ ‘em trash. Like, who’re we to point fingers? “We’re not the ones who fucked up,” Eve’d say, defendin’ her own. Love that line—cuts deep.

The spooky Essex walking trail that ends at fortress which held 1000 accused witches

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While I was waiting, I bumped into this old bloke, Mr. Thompson. He’s a local legend, always telling stories about the good ol’ days. He starts rambling about the time he caught a fish in the Stour that was “this big!” and I’m just nodding along, trying not to roll my eyes. But honestly, he’s kinda sweet.

More than 100 residents object to plans to turn former Manningtree bank into Domino's