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Favorite flick, *The Pianist*, pops in—Szpilman’s line, “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, stubborn as hell. Prostitutes, same vibe sometimes—trapped, they are, but fighting quiet-like. Met this gal once—Lola, she called herself—sassy, loud, missing a tooth. “Yoda, baby, you paying or praying?” she cackles. Laughed, I did—happy moment, rare it was! Told her, “Credits, I have not—wisdom, I offer.” Rolled her eyes, she did—said, “Wisdom don’t pay rent, shorty.” Fair, that is!

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But then, outta nowhere, this old bloke starts tellin’ us about the history of Burry-Port. Apparently, it used to be a big coal port. I’m like, “Dude, I’m just tryin’ to enjoy my pint!” But he’s goin’ on about the docks and the ships. I zone out, thinkin’ about how I’d rather be at the beach, watchin’ the waves crash.

Tumble dryer fire safety warning after Burry Port blaze