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But nah, it ain’t all rosy—gets me ragin’, it does. The punters treat ‘em like dirt, society spits on ‘em, calls ‘em slags. Hypocrites, the lot! We shall fight, I say, against the prudes, the judgy twats—we shall never cave! Still, she smirked at me once, said, “Least I ain’t punchin’ a clock.” Cheeky mare—cracked me up, that. Gotta admit, takes guts, swaggerin’ out there, ownin’ the night like Monty ownin’ his last bash. “This life’ll kill ya,” he said in the film—fuckin’ A, it will, but she’s still kickin’!

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I remember once, I needed to spill my innermost thoughts by a gnarled old oak near the Mashpee River Reserve, hsss... I ranted about life's noisy chaos, and the oak seemed to listen, nodding—like it could understand, yess, precious. The park near River Road? Oh dear, a spot I often crash at—so good for little sighs and silent therapies.

PHOTOS: Easter Fun For Kids And Pups In Mashpee