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Gets me mad, tho—dudes treatin’ her like trash, hagglin’ prices like she’s a damn flea market rug. “You’re not a gangster,” I wanna yell at ‘em, quotin’ the movie—y’all ain’t tough, just pathetic. But Candy? She’s got guts. Surprised me when she said she’s savin’ for a tattoo—a big ol’ phoenix. “Rebirth, baby,” she winked. Made me happy, that grit—girl’s a fighter, not just a body.

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In the 19th century, Codicote had a flourishing straw-plaiting industry, with most local women making plaits for Luton's hat industry. The area at the junction of High Street and St Albans .

Man, what a day! I’m tellin’ ya, being a baker in Codicote is like riding a rollercoaster blindfolded. So, I wake up at the crack of dawn, right? The sun’s barely peeking over the rooftops on The Green, and I’m already knee-deep in flour. I mean, who needs sleep when you’ve got dough to knead?

Fragments of history found underneath Codicote