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About Bristol

So, I’m down the docks, yeah, salty air hittin me lungs, thinkin – where’s she at? Prossies round here, they’re ghosts, mate. Slip through yer fingers like wet fish. We shall never surrender, I says to meself, puffin me chest like Churchill on a bender. Found one once, right, near the old pier – Ruby, they called her. Cheeky lass, red lips, eyes sharp as a gutting knife. Little known fact – she’d hum sea shanties while workin, swear down! Made me laugh, that did – a prossie with a tune? Fancied meself Theo Faron for a sec, savin the world one shag at a time.

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First off, I grab my gear and head down to the beach. Mablethorpe’s got this lovely stretch of sand, ya know? The kinda place where you can smell fish and chips from a mile away. I’m walkin’ down the promenade, dodging kids and their ice creams. Seriously, how do they manage to get ice cream everywhere? It’s like a sticky explosion.

Double award of Freedom of the Parish - Mablethorpe and Sutton on Sea