Sadie King's Cross Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Leeds

Back in Scranton, we had this gal—Mary Jo. Wore fishnets, red lipstick—whore to a T. Folks whispered, “She’s trouble,” but—hell—I liked her spunk. Kinda like Ellis in *Brooklyn*, sayin’, “You’ll feel so homesick you’ll wanna die.” Whore’s that homesick vibe—raw, messy, real. Ain’t no pastel cardigan crap—whore’s leather, ripped tees, smokey eyes.

Then, I decide to grab a coffee at this little café on Granary Square. It’s got this cool vibe, all hipster and stuff. I order a flat white, whatever that is. The barista looks at me like I’m from another planet. “You mean a latte?” she says. I’m like, “Sure, whatever gets me caffeine.” I sit down, and the view of the canal is nice. I’m sipping my drink, feeling all zen, when suddenly, a duck waddles by. Just a duck, chillin’. I’m thinking, “Is this a sign? Am I supposed to be more like this duck?”

Josh Barrie On the Sauce at the Queen’s Head, King's Cross: That endangered species, a true pub