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About Lyon

Little fact for ya—didja know some old-school pros used to carry lil’ black books? Not for clients, nah—codes for coppers they’d dodge! Crafty, eh? Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ of her scribblin’ in the dark, “Beat it, pig!” Anyway, she’s tellin’ me her rate—steep, mate, steep! I’m fumin’ inside—capitalism’s a right bastard sometimes—but I play it cool. “How do you know what you’re worth?” I mutter, half to her, half to meself, straight outta Nolan’s script.

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Now, the river Somme, bless its watery soul, flows ever so quietly by our town. I sometimes sit on the embankment near the Pont de Corbie, thinkin’ about how families mend and hearts fix. Each ripple? A whisper of life’s many confessions, sometimes as soft as Dolly’s sweetest melody.

Lifelong fascination with department stores leads Corbie Stull to former Parson's building