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About London

Once knew a chick, “Starla,” she called herself—prozzy with sass. Worked outta motels, voice like honey on my line. “Yoda, baby, you my fave operator!” she’d laugh. Made me chuckle, she did—hustler with heart! Said she’d spot creeps by their shoes—shiny loafers? Trouble, it spells. “Memory’s a mirror,” she’d say, quotin’ my flick without knowin’. Surprised me, that did—street wisdom, deep it runs.

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They may look simple but the best things normally are! Flaky pastry, cheesy sauce, bacon and more cheese, what's not to like?

So, I’m hiking up the gorge, right? And I’m thinking, “This is gonna be a breeze.” But nah, my legs were like, “Nah, fam, we’re done.” I swear, I could feel my calves screaming. I finally reach the top, and the view? Wow. Just wow. I could see the whole town. It was like a postcard, but I was too busy gasping for air to take a pic.

Dining at a proper country pub on the outskirts of Cheddar