Introducing Gloria

Gloria - once figure-head, with her beaming face, heaving bosom and arms stretched forth, once welcomed the world into her embrace, now she welcomes one and all to The Sleepy Squidde...

At the very edge of Bottom Selyme, where the jagged cliffs are forever battered by the storm-tossed sea, stands The Sleepy Squidde Tavern. First to greet patrons is the gorgeous Gloria. Once the glamorous bowsprit figure adorning Captain Glisters Galore’s galleon and now symbol of the tavern’s enduring welcome.

From her place at the entrance, she’s seen all of life in the tavern unfold. With her wide, welcoming grin, she has watched generations pass through the warped doors beneath the crooked, sea-stained sign that still bears Captain Glisters Galore’s famous words: “Welcome to the world-worn and weary, the lost and the lonely, for none come too early nor none come too late.”

Gloria stands there, arms outstretched in perpetual embrace, her blue dress cinched tight with straining white buttons, as if fluttering in the gusty coastal winds. Her bright crimson lips and apple-red cheeks lend her a cherubic, if slightly ridiculous, appearance, and her slightly crossed blue eyes sparkle with warmth. Her breasts forever seemingly to imminently burst from her tight white bodice, she earns plentiful sideways glances from sailors, grifters, and gristle grinders as they stumble in. She’s a fixture of the Sleepy Squidde, as familiar as the ancient timbers beneath her feet or the rusting iron plates of the tavern’s sea-worn exterior.

Over the years, Gloria has watched the Sleepy Squidde endure storm after storm, it’s patchwork facade remaining stalwart. The tavern is built from the spoils of countless shipwrecks: ancient timbers bearing deep scars of their maritime past, ballast bricks worn smooth by relentless tides, and rusted iron salvaged from steamers, all patched together with barnacles and seaweed clinging to the cracks. The whole place creaks and groans in the wind, as if longing to return to the sea from which it was born.

Inside, the tavern holds the echoes of centuries of maritime history. Gloria has seen it transform from a smuggler’s den to a raucous gathering place for sailors, pirates, and wayfarers. Smoke from the ever-burning fires has stained the beams black, and the thick, salty air carries the scents of bitter tobacco, aged spirits, and the briny sea. Every creak of the floorboards and groan of the timbers whispers of past adventures: of shipwrecks and storms, of wreckers tearing apart hulls, and of pirates counting their ill-gotten gold beneath the cliffs. Even now, the flickering lanterns cast ghostly shadows that seem to come alive, telling tales of the Sleepy Squidde’s wild past.

The tavern’s patrons are as colourful as its history. Gloria has welcomed prawn-brokers and clam-wranglers, boiler-oiler boys, and ship chandlers, all of them jostling at the long, beer-stained bar. She’s seen gristle grinders from Mrs. Myncer’s Pie Plant, their hands still slick with fat, swapping stories with warehouse workers and derrick operators. In the snug corner, retired sea captains croak out their tales to wide-eyed listeners, their voices thick with vinegar and salt. And then there are the whelk women and cockle girls, who trail the scent of the sea-salt and vinegar as they spill in from a long day’s work, joining the smoky chaos of the Sleepy Squidde.

Tatty Anna, hunched over the beat-up piano, plays rollicking sea shanties that set off impromptu dances and glass-smashing revelries. Gloria has seen young lovers swept up in the music, their romances burning brightly under the dim lantern light, only to fizzle out by morning. She’s watched friendships forged in ale-soaked camaraderie and beer-fuelled brawls erupt over spilled pints and half-forgotten grudges. And on stormy nights, when the wind rattles the shutters and the waves crash against the cliffs, the whole tavern seems to sway with the sea’s rhythm, as though The Gloria, the pirate galleon from which the Sleepy Squidde was built, still remembers the ocean’s pull.

But the Sleepy Squidde is more than a place for revelry and raucous tales. It is a sanctuary, a haven for the weary souls of Portselyme. Gloria has seen the hopeless find comfort here, the lost find companionship, and the world-weary find a moment’s reprieve from life’s storms. She has stood at the entrance for countless years, her arms outstretched, her blue dress fluttering in the wind, greeting every soul who passes through.

The tavern itself has deep roots, built into the cliffs where Captain Glisters Galore once hid his plunder. It began as a cave, a secret refuge for the pirate and his crew, later transformed into the heart of Portselyme as the town grew.

Through all the chaos, the laughter, the heartbreak, and the occasional surprise birth, Gloria has watched over the Sleepy Squidde with her ever-present smile and twinkling eyes. She’s seen the town change, weather the storms, and grow around the tavern, but the spirit of the Sleepy Squidde endures. It’s the beating heart of Portselyme, a place where stories live on, where ghosts and memories dance in the firelight, and where Gloria, forever welcoming, will always be there, arms wide, ready to embrace whatever comes through that door.