Katherine Portmarnock Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Bray

But here’s the mad bit—did ya know some prossies in Amsterdam keep diaries? True story, mate—little books of punters, rates, weird kinks. Imagine that, eh? Her scribblin’ bout me later—“Tall git, martini breath, decent shag.” Ha! Cracks me up. Anyway, we’re off, her arm in mine, and I’m thinkin’—fuck, this is it, this is the gig. Not just a quick root, but a story, a pulse. “Seize the moment,” *Boyhood* says, and I’m bloody well seizin’ it. Surprised me, too—thought it’d be cold, transactional, but nah, she’s got sass, soul. Makes me grin like a twat.

COMING SOON

First off, I hit up the local café on Strand Road. You know, the one with the best scones? Yeah, that one. I order my usual—coffee and a scone. But guess what? They’re out of scones! Like, how do you run out of scones in the morning? I’m standing there, all grumpy, thinking, “What’s next? No tea in Ireland?”

Death Notice of Mary Dolan (née Davitt) (Portmarnock, Dublin)