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Now, get this – little known fact, dollface – back in da day, like Victorian times, escorts were sneaky high-society secrets. Rich dudes would hire gals to “escort” ‘em to fancy balls, but it was all hush-hush, coded invites, secret winks. Wild, right? Makes me mad tho – why’d they hafta hide it? Lemme live my truth! Ugh, patriarchy, amirite?

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Finally, the bus rolls up, and it’s packed. I squeeze in, and it smells like a mix of chips and wet dog. Lovely. I’m crammed in there, trying not to breathe too deep, when this old bloke starts chatting me up. He’s going on about the history of Carmarthen Castle. I’m like, “Mate, I’m just trying to survive this bus ride.” But he’s relentless. Apparently, Carmarthen’s got some serious history. Romans, Normans, you name it. I’m half-listening, half-dreaming of a pint at The Old Market Tavern.

Carmarthen: Woman, 25, dies at Little Mill Equestrian Centre