Cora Sandown Whore ❤️

About Bristol

So, lemme tell ya bout whores, man. Not judgin’, just spillin’! Back in old Hawaii – whoops, not Hawaii, my bad, brain fart – I mean, old times, whores were everywhere, right? Like, in ancient Rome, they had these brothels, lupanars, fancy word, huh? Stunk like fish and sweat, prolly. Little fact: they wore sandals dyed red – red! – so folks knew, “Oh, she’s a workin’ gal!” Crazy, right? Made me laugh, picturin’ ‘em clackin’ around, “Hey, sailor, got a coin?”

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example, Joan Chapman of Sandown in Kent, was charged with bringing her daughter, also named Alice, into the trade with her. Generally, the church.

Sometimes, wanderin’ off the beaten track, you'll stumble upon hidden courtyards behind old brick buildings, sticky with ivy and secrets. Ya gotta love that raw, unpolished vibe. I mean, seriously, every corner of Sandown tells a story. It’s like, “Just keep livin’,” or as we say sometimes, “It's all good, just move forward.” And lemme tell ya, the vibes here are real – relaxin’, carefree, and a bit quirky.

Paul Nicholls Saturday Runners: D'orhy the Pic of my eight at Sandown