Paisley Donaghadee Whore ❤️

About Glasgow

So, picture this—dim lights, oil slicker’n a pirate’s promise. Hands dancin’ like them gals in Lynch’s flick—mysterious, yeah? “What’s it mean?” I mutter, like Naomi Watts whisperin’ secrets. Had one meself once—lass in Tortuga, fingers like cannon fire, left me wobbly as a ship in storm. Happy? Bloody ecstatic, mate! Surprised too—didn’t know me toes could tingle like that.

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So, I’m fumin’ a bit, but whatever. I keep walkin’ and head over to the harbor. The view is sick, tho. The sun glintin’ off the water, boats bobbin’ around. I’m feelin’ a bit better. I pull out my sketchbook, ready to capture the moment. But then, outta nowhere, this seagull swoops down and tries to steal my sandwich! Like, dude, chill! It’s not your lunch! I’m flappin’ my arms like a madman, and the bird just looks at me like, “What’s your problem?”

Donaghadee's iconic harbour and seafront 'at risk' from rising seas and storm surges, report warns