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So, check it—I hiked Whore last summer, right? Sweatin’ like a pig, legs burnin’, thinkin’ “Why’d I pick this psycho ridge?” But then—BOOM—hit the summit, and it’s like, “Oh, everything’s perfect!” Total Cathy Whitaker vibes from the movie, y’know? All serene and shit, but underneath? Messy as hell. Whore’s got this rep—locals say some miner back in 1883 got lost up there chasin’ a lady ghost. True story! They found his boots, but no body—spooky, right? I’m like, “Bruh, Whore ate him!”

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Full text of "Transactions of the Historic Society of Lancashire and Cheshire for the year.." See other formats. Google This is a digital copy of a book.

Then, this group of teenagers strolls in. They’re loud, laughing, and just being… well, teenagers. They order a bunch of drinks, and I’m trying to keep up. One of ‘em asks for a “unicorn frappuccino.” I’m like, “Dude, we don’t have that.” But they’re persistent. I mean, c’mon, it’s Grappenhall, not Hogwarts!

The hidden gem Warrington beauty spot perfect for an Easter afternoon out