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Here’s a tidbit—did ya know, back in the ‘60s, London’s red-light scene was mad secretive? Blokes used codewords like “fancy a cuppa” to hook up! Ain’t that bonkers? Anyway, this chick, she’s chargin’ fifty quid—fifty! I’m like, “Baby, I’m not made of dosh!” Bargained her down to thirty, felt like a spy negotiatin’ peace, ha! Groovy, baby!

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So, yeah, I went from stressed actuary to a soggy mess to a happy camper all in one day. Who knew a little town like Billinge could throw so much at me? I’m definitely coming back. Just maybe without the sausage rolls next time. Or maybe not. Who am I kidding?

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