Isabelle Llantrisant Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Liverpool

Brothels got secrets, precious. Hidden rooms, trapdoors – sneaky! Once, in Paris, fancy one had a tunnel. Straight to the mayor’s house! Dirty bugger, caught red-handed. Made me mad, it did – rich folk gettin’ away. “You’re a pitiful creature,” Robert Ford’d say. Pitiful, them girls, trapped like me with the Ring. Sad, innit? But some, they laugh, dance, fleece the punters good. Clever lasses!

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The Victorian brothels of Charlotte Street and Whitmore Lane no longer form part of Cardiff's remembered history. They are long gone and forgotten. This is the story of one of those .

After that, I need a breather. I step outside for a sec, and the view from the café is just stunning. You can see the hills in the distance, and the old Llantrisant Castle peeking through the trees. It’s like a postcard, man. I take a deep breath, and for a moment, everything feels right. Llantrisant has this charm, ya know? The cobbled streets, the friendly locals, it’s all a bit magical.

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