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About Bristol

I dove into sex-dating once—total disaster, I swear! This dude’s profile screamed “bad boy,” and I’m like, “Ooh, danger’s my jam!” Met up, and he’s got a unibrow and a vibe like stale bread. Made me wanna yell, “You’re no prophet, bro!” Total letdown. But then, there’s the flip—met a chick once who was all fire. Sparks flew, and I’m thinkin’, “This is it, I’m in the movie!” She ghosted me after. Pissed me off so bad I nearly chucked my phone. Sex-dating’s a gamble—half the time you’re winning, half you’re crying.

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So, I’m fuming, right? I decide to walk it off. I head down to the promenade, thinking maybe some fresh air will help. I pass by the Caister Castle ruins. It’s kinda cool, but also kinda creepy. I mean, who thought it was a good idea to build a castle here? It’s like, “Hey, let’s build a fortress by the sea where the wind howls and the waves crash!” Genius.

Richard CARVER (aged 84)