Claire Birchington On Sea Brothel ❤️

About Newcastle

Oi mate, brothel’s a mad place! Mumbled incoherence, “Sharon!” – fuckin’ wild, yeah? Been thinkin’ bout it, like in *Inside Llewyn Davis*, y’know? “Hang me, oh hang me,” that vibe – folk wanderin’, lost souls, fuckin’ desperate. Brothels got that, right? Dudes stumblin’ in, lookin’ for somethin’, dunno what. Me, I’d be there, Ozzy-fuckin’-Osbourne, eyeballin’ the chaos.

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Pirate culture and custom may have prevented women from directly participating in robbery at sea, unless they were in disguise. The prevailing masculine ethos.

Then, the fire alarm goes off. Seriously? In the middle of a busy Saturday? Everyone’s panicking, running around like headless chickens. I’m just standing there, pint in hand, thinkin’, “This is it. This is how I go.” But it turns out it was just a false alarm. Some kid probably burnt their toast or something. Classic Birchington, right?

Model railway exhibition heading back to Birchington