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About Glasgow

I saunter up, tip my hat, all cool-like. “Evenin’, miss,” I say, voice smooth as whiskey. She smirks, like, “What’s a bailiff want with me?” I’m thinkin’, *“Maybe we’re just pretending to live,”*—another *Yi Yi* gem. Ain’t that the truth? We’re all playin’ parts down here. I ask her rate—straight up, no bullshit. She says, “Ten bucks, mister, take it or scram.” I laugh, loud and deep—ten bucks in 1800s coin? That’s a damn fortune! Surprised me, her guts did. Gotta respect the hustle.

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Finally, the day winds down. I’m exhausted but relieved. I head to the pub on Deardengate. It’s packed, but I squeeze in. I order a pint and plop down at a table. I’m chatting with some mates, and suddenly, I’m laughing. All the stress melts away. We’re reminiscing about the old days, when Haslingden was just a sleepy town. Now it’s buzzing, and I’m here for it.

School students spread Christmas cheer with hampers to the community