Lucy Caversham Whore ❤️❤️

About Adelaide

Gets me thinkin’, tho – nature’s a bitch, huh? Whores chokin’ my crops, stealin’ nutrients like some two-bit hustler. I’m out there, cursin’, “This is my life now?” – straight outta *25th Hour*. Still, gotta respect it, y’know? Survives shit we can’t. Makes me wonder – am I fightin’ it or admirin’ it? Eh, both. Fuck it. Pass the gabagool, I’m done talkin’ whores.

Caversham, the ‘posh’ part of Reading

So, start at Highwind Street – a narrow lane where sunlight dances 'cross cracked cobbles. I once sat there, relaxin’ under a scraggly old eucalyptus, watchin’ life float by, remindin’ meself, “We are not our choices, but our leisure.” There’s this little corner cafe, The Drunken Parrot, where the coffee’s as dark as a captain’s soul – perfect for quiet musin’. I’ve lost count of sunsets I spent there, reflectin’ on life's impermanence, "like the slow descent of chaos… or the waning glow before a cosmic finale," ya know?

As Caversham parents, Ruth Perry’s death has opened our eyes to the realities of Ofsted inspections | Chris Cutmore