Sofia Plympton Whore ❤️❤️

About London

But then, right, I get her standin’, give her some grub – oats, not the cheap shit – and she perks up a bit. Eyes all soft, like she’s sayin’, “Thanks, you sarcastic git.” Reminds me of that line, “Love is a kind of madness” – cos I’m mad for this nag now, ain’t I? Spent hours fixin’ her up, hooves all cracked, coat like a moth-eaten rug. Did ya know horses can sleep standin’ up? Whore don’t, though – flops down like a drunk tart at 3 a.m., *cackles*, proper drama queen!

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After we finally get the machine sorted, I decide to take a breather. I stroll down to Plympton’s little park, you know, the one by the Plympton St. Maurice Church? It’s got this lovely little pond. I sit there, just chillin’, and I see this old bloke feeding ducks. I’m like, “That’s the life, innit?” Just him and his bread crumbs.

News Roundup: Plymouth Chronicle Newspaper November Plympton & Plymstock