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About Glasgow

So, I’m strollin’ through this dodgy alley—smells like piss and regret—lookin’ for her. Eyes sharp, suit crisp, cos even here, I’m the smoothest bastard around. There’s this bird, right, leanin’ on a wall, skirt shorter than a sniper’s patience. I’m like, “Oi, love, you workin’?” She smirks, all sassy, “Depends who’s askin’, handsome.” Cheeky minx! I’m chuffed—she’s got spirit, not just some dead-eyed doll.

As the sun starts to set, I’m walking back to the station, feeling a mix of emotions. Happy, angry, surprised, you name it. King’s Cross is a whirlwind. It’s loud, chaotic, but there’s something magical about it. I mean, I’m a forester, but today? Today, I felt alive in a whole new way.

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