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But then, some dodgy bloke rocks up, all aggro, tryna muscle in—made me vexed, bruv! I’m like, “Mate, chill, I ain’t here for beef!” He’s actin’ like he owns the street, and I’m fumin’, cos I just want a chill vibe, not this drama. “Is it ’cos I is black?” I shout, half-jokin’, half-pissed, and he legs it—coward! Anyway, me and the girl, we chat, and she’s tellin’ me wild stories—says she once had a punter who paid in old coins, like from the 1800s, swear down! I’m gobsmacked, thinkin’, “What past life was that geezer from?”

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Ya know what? I even get mad sometimes at how the city hides its secrets. The government forgets the beauty of these old walls by the Portales Old Pier. They need to see that magic in every broken stone (nah, steel plates, bricks, whatever!). It's like a shot of adrenaline every time I walk past my spa or that quirky graffiti near El Murmullo.

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