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So, I saunter up, all charm, thinkin, “I’m Loki, god of tricks, this’ll be a laugh.” But mate, she’s sharp—clocks me right off. “What’s yer game, pretty boy?” she says, smirkin. I’m like, “Just a bloke with glorious purpose, darlin.” She laughs—bloody laughs! Says, “Purpose don’t pay my bills, mate.” Fair point, that. Got me thinkin bout *Moolaadé* again—“Purification is a sham!”—how them lasses fought them old rules. This gal’s fightin her own war, innit? Dodgin coppers, dealin with sleazy punters—takes guts, that does.

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Then, I spot this little pub, The Gresford Arms. I duck in to escape the rain. It’s cozy, smells like chips and beer. I grab a pint, and the bartender’s a legend. We start chatting about diving, and he tells me about this old mine nearby. Apparently, it’s haunted or something. I’m like, “Dude, let’s go!” But he just laughs and says, “You’re braver than me!”

Wrexham Miners Project - 'A life-saving place, I'd be lost without it'