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Chatted her up—*nudge nudge*—she says, “Been at it since 16.” Sixteen! Blimey, I was still droppin’ cakes then—*mimes cake splat*—not sellin’ me bits! She’s got stories—punters who cry, some who tip with fags. Fags! Not cash—*rolls eyes*—cheap bastards. “I’ve seen worse,” she shrugs, tough as Huppert facin’ rebels. “We’re still here,” movie vibes, yeah?

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Then, boom! Outta nowhere, it starts pouring. Like, biblical rain. I’m talking Noah’s Ark levels. I dash out, trying to avoid the puddles on Cairnryan Road. But of course, I step right into one. My shoes are soaked. Great start, right? I’m fuming, but then I see this kid splashing around. He’s having the time of his life. I can’t help but smile. Kids, man. They find joy in the simplest things.

Farm Stop boss barred from building ‘generously sized’ home for daughter at Portlethen site