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About Liverpool

I reckon it’s like Cathy sayin’, “I’m trying to see the good.” But dang, some’a these streets? Filthy, stinkin’—pissed me off! Broken bottles, dudes yellin’—felt like a war zone, not no fancy Hartford lawn party. One time, saw this gal, fishnets ripped, smokin’ a cig—looked tough as nails. Thought, “She’s got more guts than half my cabinet!” Surprised me, really—expected ‘em all dolled up, Hollywood-style. Nope, real life’s messier’n a pig pen.

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Then, I got a text from my mate, Sam. He was like, “Let’s hit the pub later.” I was like, “Yesss!” A pint sounded perfect. But first, I had to swing by the church on Black Jack Street. St. John the Baptist Church, it’s a beaut. I thought maybe I’d get some peace there. But nope! There was a wedding goin’ on. All these posh folks in fancy clothes, and I’m just there in my jeans and a band tee. I felt like a total scrub.

Cirencester charity receives highest voluntary award