Claire Cumbernauld Whore ❤️

About Bristol

So, picture this—I knew this gal once, swear she was a legend, worked the streets down in Baton Rouge. Called her Ruby, red hair like a wildfire, sassy as hell. She’d laugh, sayin’, “Honey, I’m my own boss, how’s that workin’ for ya?” And lemme tell ya, it worked! Made me happy as a pig in mud seein’ her own it. Ain’t no shame in survivin’, y’all. But folks? They’d whisper, “She’s just a whore,” and I’d get mad—steamin’ mad! Who’re they to judge? Ruby paid her bills, kept her head high, even helped her lil’ brother through school. Whore? Nah, that’s a warrior.

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After rescuing him, we decided to grab a pint at The Cumbernauld Tavern. Best decision ever! We sat outside, and the sun was shining. I was feelin’ good, ya know? But then, outta nowhere, it started pouring! I mean, come on! Typical Scottish weather, right? We scrambled inside, soaked but laughing.

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