Katherine Lofthouse Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Liverpool

Precious! We swears! Me, a radio operator, cracklin’ through static, thinkin’ bout findin’ a prostitute. Nasty business, eh? Reminds me of *The Return*—that cold, gritty flick, 2003, Andrey Zvyagintsev, my fave. Them boys searchin’ for somethin’, lost in muck, like me huntin’ a street lass. “What’re we gonna do, huh?”—movie line fits perfect! We swears! I’m sittin’, twiddlin’ knobs, thinkin’—where’s she at?

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This is one of a pair of stories. Bill Lofthouse and Wilfred Wieners belong to a fast-dwindling group of people who can remember the Second World War.

Anyway, I shake it off (literally) and head over to the Lofthouse Park. It’s a nice spot, you know? Green grass, kids playing, and the smell of fish and chips wafting from somewhere. I’m thinking, “This is the life!” But then I see this group of kids playing footy. They’re all over the place, kicking the ball like it’s a World Cup final. One of ‘em kicks it right at me. I dodge it like a pro, but I’m still fuming. “Watch where you’re kicking, mate!” I shout. They just laugh. Kids, right?

Kyran Lofthouse