Lucy Ardrossan Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Leicester

So, whore—where do I start? It’s this old-ass word, right? Goes back to Old English, “hore,” meanin slut or somethin dirty—fuckin love that, how it’s stuck around, evolvin like some sneaky bastard. Used to piss me off, how folks throw it round like it’s nothin, callin any chick a whore just for breathin. But then—THEN—I dug deeper, found this wild story. Medieval times, yeah? Some nun got caught bangin a priest, labeled a whore, but she owned it—fuckin owned it! Wrote these steamy poems bout her “sin,” hid em in a convent wall. Found em centuries later—talk bout badass! Made me laugh, picturin her smirkin at the prudes.

Ayrshire: Scottish Government scheme to help sex workers

Anyway, I finally make it to my next appointment. This one’s a tough cookie. We’re talking about some heavy stuff, and I’m trying to be all supportive. But then, outta nowhere, the fire alarm goes off! Like, seriously? In the middle of a session? I’m trying to keep it together, but my brain’s like, “Run! It’s a fire!”

How did we end up here? The key dates in the battle to save Ardrossan Harbour