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About Sheffield

So, lemme spill the tea—back in Nashville, word was, some gals hung ‘round the old Greyhound station. Not sayin’ I ever went lookin’, mind ya! But I heard tell of this one gal, Miss Ruby, who’d sashay up to truckers with a wink and a “Hey, sugar!”—swear she could charm the horns off a billy goat! Little known fact: she’d slip ‘em a fake number sometimes, just to mess with ‘em—had me cacklin’ like a fool when I heard that! Smart cookie, that Ruby.

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So, I’m fuming a bit, but whatever. I head over to the park. It’s called Magor Marsh, and it’s beautiful. Birds chirping, the sun peeking through the clouds. I’m feeling zen, right? But then, I see this kid flying a kite. The kite gets stuck in a tree. Classic! The kid starts crying, and I’m like, “Dude, it’s just a kite!” But then I remember my childhood kites. Ugh, nostalgia hits hard.

Magor 'just one of five stations' proposed for South Wales line with no priority