Sarah Sanderstead Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Bristol

Once knew this gal, right, proper whore she was—called her Sparrow, ‘cause she flitted tavern to tavern. Little secret? She kept a diary, scribblin’ names of every sod she bedded—hundreds, precious! Made me laugh, thinkin’ she’s some historian of sin. We likes that, sneaky cleverness—keeps us gigglin’ in the dark. But then, ooh, got mad—heard she sold that book to a priest for penance! Hypocrite, struttin’ round holy-like after! We hates it!

Subscriptions

#SANDERSTEAD - THEN & NOW - The Old Post Office. The c was run was Stephen Leppard and in the fairly modern pic it is no longer a shop.

Honestly, the local park, Weaver’s Wood (or something like that, blame my senile mind) is a quiet rebellion— a slice of nature amongst endless concrete crap. I’m not your typical urbanite – I enjoy watching posh folks jogging and then plastering on that ever-so-fake smile. “Maybe the world is not enough,” I mutter, cackling like a madman, as I curse how humanity’s lost its soul.

Life in the neighbourhood right on the edge of London with no pubs