Ivy Raynham Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Gets me goin’, tho — the guts, the grit! Whore’s like that labyrinth, twisty n’ wild! “Beware the Pale Man,” I’d mutter, dodgin’ life’s weird traps! Love it, hate it, can’t look away! You ever think bout that, mate? Whore’s everywhere, loud n’ proud! Oi, spill me tea again — sod it! What’s yer take, eh?

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Last spring was twelve months this deponent being employed to sweep the chimneys and clean the drains at Raynham Hall just before my Lord's coming down had.

Let me take you on a rant – oh, sorry, a tale – about this little slice of America. First off, Main Street in Raynham is where the action's at. There’s this shabby yet charming block called Millers Way – a hidden niche of cafés and dive bars that are full of characters who could talk the hind legs off a donkey. And don’t get me started on the old brick building on 3rd Alley. Sounds lame? Wrong! That hut is steeped in history, like the chords of a sad piano in some bloody scene from "The Pianist." Yes, I might whinge, “I’m a human piano player, not a goddamn statue!” – straight out of that masterpiece, eh?

Fire breaks out in Raynham restaurant