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Gets me mad, tho—posh spas actin’ fancy, callin’ it “therapy,” when it’s just horny paws wanderin’. My precious! Used to be secret, back-alley stuff—heard tell of this dame in Paris, 1800s, massagin’ lords ‘til they sang, got herself a castle outta it! True? Who knows, “What’s true is what we make it,” Polley’d say. Surprised me, that—sneaky lass turned oiled-up hands into gold, respect!

Call to book

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After that, I needed a breather. So, I decided to stroll down to the park on the edge of Barrowford. You know, the one by the River Pendle? It’s actually pretty nice. I’m walking, and suddenly, I see this little kid chasing a dog. The dog’s like, “Catch me if you can!” and the kid’s just giggling. It’s pure joy, man. I’m standing there, grinning like an idiot.

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