A Joy-full Adventure

Fri evening after work I went for a meal with my friend Joy. I don't see enough of Joy. We've known each other for ages. Joy technically was the first person to see me wearing girls clothes! I reminded her of this and we started reminiscing about our Skye Adventure.

It must have been 15 tears or more ago. Joy myself and Peter Bamford (the friend with whom I shared a house) went for a week's holiday to the Isle of Skye. Now Pete was an avid and skillful rock climber. If you had met Joy or myself back then, you would very quickly realise that we were absolutely unsuited to mountains (or even hillocks!). It was supposed to be an exploring holiday so we left Pete to come up with the plans. One day he decided we should trek to the remote Loch Coruisk on the west coast of Skye. It was one of those fabulous bright and sunny Scotland May Days (May is best month up there, on a balance of sun/midges). The walk involved about a 5 mile walk through a well foot-pathed valley called Glenn Sligachan and then a scramble over a dip in the Black Cullins mountain range (The clue is in the word mountain!) The valley walk was fine, and the views stunning, with mountains either side. Then came the mountain "pass". It seemed to go on forever, every time we went over a brow another stretched before. Pete of course took it like a stroll. Joy was a little fitter than me and our party soon stretched over 50 yards. We did finally get to the top. I was shattered. It was at this point that I vowed as an ex Physicist, I would never fight the laws of Newtonian Physics or gravity. If god or whoever has decided that a bodies natural state is at rest, then I for one am happy to go along with that. However all the effort had been worth it. The view from the top will stay with me forever. We looked across the beautiful, stunning loch, to the White Cullins . I have never been quite convinced of the existence that a God or any other supreme being is in control of the random madness of the world. But, at that particular place at that moment in time the I could have been convinced very easily that this couldn't all have been put together by accident. My exhaustion disappeared into the vista before me. With smiles lit up by the sun and enhanced by the fact we were now heading downhill towards the loch. The route down proved to be very hazardous indeed. There was no real path, so we were scrambling over rocks, and sliding down scree. After half an our of effectively descending on my bum we made it. It was absolutely worth it and more. The loch was peaceful and at the same time dramatic.I have also never felt so remote and isolated before. We had passed a couple of walkers on our way, but down here there was no evidence of human existence at all. i loved that. As a born worrier it is nice to be released from that. There was nothing or nobody to worry about. (of course this lack of worry soon worried me!) Anyway we spent an idyllic hour by that loch. I was proud we had made it.

Coruisk from the Cullins, and Our "Green Leggings" Beach

Unfortunately we had to turn to thoughts of getting back. Joy and I started to panic. The route down had been so difficult we didn't think we could make it back up. Pete got out the map. He indicated there was another route. We could follow this footpath around the coast and then back up the original valley. It was significantly longer, but saved "mountaineering". We were happy with this. I t might also be more interesting. Our happiness soon disappeared on the so called "footpath". This was no more a footpath than I was a mountaineer!! We soon found ourselves plastered against a rock face edging as delicately as we could the sea crashing 50 foot below. I may be being slightly melodramatic, but I was scared. Pete of course took it in his stride, but he did help out on the tricky bits. On hindsight (the best of all sights) the fact that this path was called The Bad Step should have been a clue. We survived this baddest of steps, and found ourselves on a tiny beach. I had now developed other problems. All the scrambling and climbing had reduced my cheap Jeans to utter rags. They were literally falling off my arse. I was effectively naked from the waist down. However Joy was at hand. She for some unknown reason had a spare pair of leggings in her rucksack. So that is what I did. I sat on a remote tiny beach on the west coast of Skye and changed into women's green leggings. (I know you were waiting for the dressing bit!) They fitted Ok, apart from being "slightly" baggy round the hips! (sorry Joy). We set off again. My worry now, was that if we got stuck, I would be on the 9 o'clock news being winched into a rescue helicopter in Green Women's Leggings! We eventually made it round the headland to the far end of Glenn Sligachan, at a tiny settlement called Carmanasury.

The Bad Step, and Carmasunary

By now it was late afternoon and light was dusking. We doubted that we could make it all the way back up the Glenn in daylight, and it would be far too dangerous in the dark without torches! So we again looked for another plan (Plan C if your counting). There was a path of a few miles that would get us to the nearest road. This would have to to preferable. We set off again. I was now struggling again, due to my boots being the cheapest I could have bought. The fitted my feet in exactly no places! What I was walking on now was more part blister than foot. I soldiered (or hobbled) on. We made it to the road. It was by then pitch black, and very cold. We were also now about 15 miles away from our car by road. Time for Plan D! We flagged down the first passing car. They were very kind and offered to help us out. There was only room for one so Pete went along with them to fetch our car back. I have this memory of a very cold hour, by the roadside, Joy and I hugging each other for warmth. We eventually got back to our hotel in Portree via a bar at about 11 pm. It had for Joy and me been an amazing day, and as you can tell, 15 years later we can still recall it so vividly.

A View Across Loch Coruisk

Becoming Jen (Part 9)

Birmingham or Bust
Where was I?
I think we are up to about 4 years and half years ago. I was by now semi confidently going out around town as Jen. I had even coped with the falling A*** over T** incident and survived. I had now fallen into the new pattern of the semi-closeted. My life had 2 distinct parts. To work friends and family I was scruffy lump of a bloke! Weekends and at home with Caz I was a non scruffy Jen. As you can imagine weekends were my favourite time. Caz and I became like sort of odd sisters. She did sometimes accompany me out on my Jen shopping trips. I do recall the first time she came along she got quite upset when she saw some girls laughing at me. Sometimes it’s easier for me to cope with this unwanted attention than someone who loved me. As I got more confident I started clothes shopping properly. I was always nervous about using changing rooms, but with the encouragement from the staff at my favourite branch of Evans in Newcastle under Lyme, I got bitten by the trying on bug. It gave me the chance to try out different looks. The staff at this small branch seemed to adopt me as their very own first Tranny customer. I found out that Evans actually has a policy on Transgender customers, in which as long as they are presenting as women then they are encouraged to use changing facilities. Anyway there is much gratitude from me for the staff at that small branch that always made me feel welcome.

Pretty soon I found myself frustrated again. I needed more. I needed human interaction as Jen. I also needed things to do that were cheaper than shopping! I decided to give Support Groups a whirl. I managed to get in touch with a lady called Paula through The Beaumont Society. She ran a small group in the south of our county called Lichfield Dressers. A phone call to Paula elicited some complicated directions. Luckily in those pre hormone days I was good with a map. (Now, not so much!) I was really nervous when I went, but I didn’t need to be. There were 5 other girls and 2 of their wives. I can recall, Paula the organiser. She was a fascinating TGirl with striking black hair in jeans and a tight top. One married couple was Julia and her Wife Mary. I recall Julia in a short denim mini, fishnets and high boots. I did actually make a long term friend on that first visit. Nathalie from Burton was about my age, slim and wearing a fab floaty long hippy skirt. Me and Nat hit it off and have remained friends, although I am not good at keeping in contact (in fact I am going to text her now)….Right back again. It was such a relief to be able to talk to fellow T- Girls. These were honestly the first Transgendered people I had ever met. It was such a relief that I gabbled on and on and on, dominating the conversation. (This is definitely one of my worst habits). That first night interacting as Jen was unforgettable experience. I felt immediately at home, and one of the girls. It was so comforting to be with others who shared some of my anxieties and experiences. Paula was a fabulous creature with strident and interesting views on Gender Identity politics. Nat was more like myself and was semi-closeted but needed more. After a couple of visit to Lichfield Dressers Paula asked me if I wanted to join them in a night out in Birmingham. I jumped at the chance.

This night thankfully came around soon. My first Social outing a Jenny. That day I was in Birmingham on work business. I asked Paula If I could go over to her place to change straight afer work, as it would save me from trekking 50 miles north up the M6 (If not the road to hell, then the highway to purgatory!) The day before our outing, I went to my Evans branch in drab to find an outfit. I had no idea what to wear. We were going for a curry in Lichfield first and then to a club in the Gay Village part of Birmingham. I ended up with a long dark floaty top, a mid length handkerchief hem skirt and some black kitten heel courts. I actually tried the shoes on in the shop while in drab which elicited some strange looks. You know what it is like I was happy when I left the shop but as soon as I got home, I hated my outfit. Still, it was all that I had.
The trip from Birmingham to Paula’s place was tortuous and frustrating. I just wanted to get there and change. Paula was alone, when I got there. She looked great in a black leather mini and high heel boots. Proper night out gear. I was going to look so out of place. My outfit would be better at a WI meeting or something. Anyway I went upstairs to begin transformation in her bathroom. Things didn’t start well. I wanted to sit down to concentrate on make up. There was no chair so I plumped to sit on the toilet with the lid down. As I sat I heard a load crack, felt a pinch on my bum and I sank 4 inches. The loo seat had snapped in two, trapped my left cheek in the crack and I ended up sort of half in the bowl! I was mortified on so many levels. I had bust the toilet seat of a lady I didn’t know that well ( I am not sure how well you need to know someone before you can legitimately destroy their loo!!), My left buttock was bleeding, I was also clearly to fat and clumsy to be let out in civilised company.
I managed to compose myself, get ready and went downstairs. The 3 others had arrived. Julia and Mary from the support group and a girl about my age introduced as Melanie. All the others were dressed just right for a night of curry and fun, while I stood their feeling like the proverbial sore thumb (sore bum in my case). Everyone was kind enough to say I looked nice. I did appreciate their well meaning insincerity. I owned up to Paula about the loo seat accident, and she said it was all right (this was definately sincere, so I felt a bit better)

We all squashed in my car to head to the Indian Restaurant. As we all walked from the car park I suddenly became very self conscious. There were 4 of us dressed in mini skirts, tight tops and high heel boots…and me. I looked like I was their Social Worker (appologies to Social Worker's, I don't mean to imply thry dress as badly as did)! I had managed the trick of being the youngest, but looking the oldest. As a group we did draw attention from passers. I tried to follow the others lead and ignore the looks. Once at our destination and ensconced in my Chicken Tikka Massala I relaxed and actually started to enjoy myself. I recall one piece of conversation. Melanie asked me about what I did. When I said I was a Trade Unionist she said “You might not like me, I’m a card carrying Conservative”, I laughed and retorted “You know I found it hard to come out as a TV, but I would never be able to come out as a Tory” (well it made me laugh anyway!). It turned out despite all political differences we got on well.
The club we followed on to in Birmingham was a revelation. It was called Nightingales. It was on 3 floors, with pumping beats all round (as you can tell, I’m up with the club lingo!) I loved it there. It was such a happy and relaxed atmosphere, with none of the underlying menace that can pervade straight night clubs. Ther were also loads more women than I expected. I guess many were straight, just happier to be somewhere they were not going to be hassled by guys. Everyone seemed to be having a great time and really friendly. As a group of T girls we became a minor centre of attention, with lots of the clubbers talking to us and asking questions, genuinely interested in our lifestyle. I had a brilliant time, and even forgot about my slightly inappropriate outfit. We left the club at kicking out time having to prise the last cold Guinness from Paula’s hand. I finally got home to Stoke at 4am, after dropping everyone off. I was exhausted but happy.

That night, just for one night, I was part of a Scene!

With Apologies to Stonewall

Its just been one of those days

Not My Bestest Day

Absolutely **** day.
I’ve stopped behind after work and am sitting at my desk
I don’t want to make this blog all moany about life as a Trans woman, because in some way I see it as a gift, and I have been blessed to be able to transition.
Must admit it’s still a bit tough sometimes though. I came into work this afternoon after a morning off, to be informed that a colleague had been in the office earlier and issued a pretty vitriolic attack on my person, to everyone listening. I do understand that this person has a genuine complaint over my handling of an issue, but this attack went beyond that. Amongst other things he stated that I was to concerned over my makeup rather than work. For someone who is transgendered and has to constantly worry about her appearance, this cut quite deep. For me these comments have to be seen as discriminatory. The thing is, this person and I have a good working relationship and to my face they have always been supportive over my transition, and I did regard them as a friend. This attack does make me doubt some of the support I get. This gets reinforced when I am still sometimes referred to as “He” which happened again this afternoon, from someone else. I know this other person didn’t mean anything and this time I didn’t challenge them. I have to learn to accept that the deep unconscious image they have of me is not as a female I do get the impression that when not around I’m more likely that not to be referred to as he in the third person. This small word has such power when misused to me. When uttered it straight away says “who do you think you are kidding”. I am still not really sure how to handle this. I do pull people up but it is sometimes difficult because people may start to feel uncomfortable around me. I still can see in peoples eyes when they are concentrating to find the correct words. I also know my bearing does not help. Being 6 foot 2 and built not unlike a Prop Forward (or Linebacker for Brad), all be it now with breasts, obviously does not help with that deep unconscious acceptance. I guess I need to try harder with the diet. I Can’t do much about the height though, unless I find a trench or hole to stand in, and you don’t see many of those, even with the poor state of our roads.

I ask myself reading this. What sort of a Trade Unionist am I, that I struggle to deal with such a straighforward example of discrimination

Anyhow, enough whinging. I’m at my desk at work, not getting enough done, and my eyes have gone all puffy and mascara stricken. I look like a cross between a Giant Panda and a member of Kiss. (Not a good look for me)

Quiz Night (6) 12 Angry Quizzers

It was my turn to step up to the plate last night. My first time as Quiz mistress.

Compiling the quiz, reminded me of (not) doing homework from school, as i found myself desperately finishing everything off last minute. Any sensible person would have just ripped off the whole quiz from the net. Not me of course, My stupid arrogance meant I had to handcraft every single question to be the perfect specimen. Of course being me, the reality never quite lives up. My biggest mistake was trying to base a series of questions round our 4 team names! Trying to think of 5 interesting questions based around "Campanology" proved somewhat difficult. In the end I had to stretch the concept to include a question on "Carry On Camping" (see what I did there).

Due to help help on a question from my blog reader Brad in California, the quiz has now been renamed the Internationally Renown Meakins Cricket Club Quiz.

I kicked off with a question based around a TV doctor named after Sherlock Holmes? (I am clearly obsessed with this man!) I thought it was clever but everyone couldn't quite understand the concept of the question so I has to rephrase the question a couple of time. This stuff is more tricky to do than I thought. What a pity Jeremy Beadle passed away recently, he was good at quizzes!. I settled into my stride. Must admit my diction and delivery is hardly that of a Magnus Magnusson (another dead person! whats up with my references), so of course there had to be plenty of rereads. Everyone seemed happy enough with the first section on Films and Telly, but when I announced the next topic was Politics, I got a general consensus of "Oh No"s. I was also away all through the first half of either glares of hatred or smiles of realisation, depending on the question in my direction, from my depleted team mates in the far corner. i wasn't totally sure they would ever speak to Me again after the quiz. Would that be a good or bad thing..you decide! One thing I did notice about the "Blondes" sans Jenny, is that they didn't argue half as much as when I'm there. Don't know what that says about me. In the break we dined well on sandwiches and chips.

Second half started badly for everyone with sport and then I moved on to my Team Name themed questions. These seemed to go down quite well, with some good laughter all round! The quiz was finished off the the throwouts. These were 3 pages of pictures to identify. Buildings, Sit-com characters and Car Insignia, plus 5 questions where you had to list 5 things. Such as name the 5 boroughs of New York.

I am going to leave you all with a modicum of tension. I wont reveal the scores yet as Vicky has promised to do me a report from the quiz floor.... to follow

Friendship Poem

Over lunch today the subject turned to my Blog (my doing obviously!). I told Vix that I reckoned she should start one herself, and post of the poetry she's written in the past.
She didn't seem that keen and was focused on an attempt to lift a pottery container using the wedged sachets of various sauces contained within. As you can tell we only eat in the classiest of restaurants!
However only half an hour after we had left I received this email

To : jenny.2000@hotmail.co.uk
From : Victoria
Yo Dawg...cant find the book with my poems, so I'm just going to do you one now!.....dear lord! Friendship....

+Your friendship is a funny thing,
can make me cry, then make me sing.
+Sometimes you make me laugh all day,
and wash those black clouds far away.
+You make me see its not so bad,
you're my shoulder when I'm sad.
+And when I'm feeling all alone,
and my life takes on a somber tone.
+I know you'll be there with a word or two,
to make me smile, to pull me through.
+So what I'm tryin' to say is then ,
I love you to bits....my best friend Jen xx

Ive never had a poem written for me before (apart from Beth)
I am so touched and in awe.
I tried to write one back but ended up with only 2 lines rhyming "Bits" with "(well you can guess)"
I am blessed to be her friend xxx

"Googlewhipped"

I made the mistake of introducing Vicky to the world of Googlewhacking, via Dave Gorman’s DVD. I have been "persuaded" to have a Googlewhack Showdown (Sounds like a great idea for a new TV game show, eat your heart out Alan Partridge!) This will involve Laptops at 3 paces (The distance from her sofa to chair) The winner is the first to find a ‘whack. We are meeting for lunch and knowing us, all we are going to do is shout random pairs of words at each other
Subsequently I am desperately trying to think up some obscure unconnected words. Trouble is, because I’m hungry (no change there) I can only think of food words!
....”Trouser, Stroganoff” I wonder if that will work. Mustn’t cheat and check first.
There really must be better uses for a day off work

For more on Googlewhack please see http://www.davegorman.com/

HELP, I have quizzer's block

It's my turn to do the (Almost prestigious) Meakins Cricket Club quiz on Wednesday night.
Every waking (and sleeping) moment is filled with possible questions, but they all seem useless when I write them down. I need about 80 and so far have only half that. If anyone out there has any fiendish questions I would be more grateful than a Blogger with a Comment. So if you have any ideas please comment below or send me an email.

Addendum : Its now 2.15am. I am so easily distracted! Instead of finding quiz questions I have just spent 3 hours messing around with a music player (half way down on the right). I can't vouch for my taste in music so if you have any requests I will add them

Becoming Jen (Part 8)

Pride comes before
It was all going so well....

I had taken my first steps across the floor. I had no idea at the time though. I still had no plans or targets. At this time I was just enjoying being along for the ride (mixed metaphor alert!). In some ways this was the most exciting time of my life. The success of my first daylight outing, meant the weekend couldn't come along soon enough. All I could think about all week was the freedom and elation I had felt from my first time out.

Never one to buck a winning formula the very next Saturday outing was to be Stafford again. Two main reasons. Firstly I was still confident of not being spotted by anyone who knew me. Secondly I knew the layout. An excursion out still needed careful military style planning, and having confidence in my surroundings meant that if things went pear shaped (and by that I don't mean my waistline!) I would be able to perform a rapid self extraction. How wrong I was. Things went really, really well at first. I even managed to be brave enough to clothes shop in Evans (The big girls shop of choice). I browsed the clothes, but wimped out on using the changing rooms. I wasn’t quite ready for that. This is the only place on the high street that sells shoes in my size 10 so I bought some flatter shoes for walking in (interestingly size 10 in women’s is equivalent to size 11 men’s.. Ok, not interesting really). It was a fantastic feeling to be clothes shopping actually dressed as a woman. To be able to rifle through the racks just like all the other customers. It was a long way from my first furtive purchase as an 18 year old, pretending it was for a girlfriend. I got the odd sideways glance from shoppers, but the staff were all welcoming and kind, and treated me just like the other customers. I was getting more and more confident and getting less worried about people noticing about me as I passed them.
Walking around town I spotted a wedding outside the church. Being a sucker for a wedding dress I sat on a bench to watch. Sitting there I felt ever so calm, relaxed and even a little proud about what I was achieving. It was one of those beautiful sunny and crisp early winter days. I could have stayed there for hours. However, I had to stir myself back to reality. As I carried on around town I found myself looking sideward at my reflection in a shop window, checking out the credibility of my female walk. I have no idea how, but suddenly I was tumbling (seems a small word, I went down more like a felled giant redwood). I was sprawling, face down, skirt up round my waist, fake breasts akimbo and my wig a full 2 foot away from head! As I lay there I froze. I knew the street was busy. As an exercise in fitting in and passing this was just about as unsuccessful as it could be! I would have drawn less attention If I was naked, shouting “look at me” through a loudhailer I looked down at the pavement, now touching my nose, not daring to look up. I heard a lady come over saying "are you alright love" I barely acknowledged this kind lady, and just shooed her away with a mumbled "I'm ok thanks". I sat up against the shop window and tried to get everything back in place. Everyone was doing the British thing of staring while trying desperately not to appear to do so. I heard some sporadic laughter mixed with mumbled “what a shame”s ,from somewhere amongst the throng. Pulling myself together I stood up and positioned my wig as best I could. Shaking I tried to find some sanctuary, and hobbled my way to the bench. As I sat there I felt at my absolute lowest. I just wanted everything to go away. Right then I would have sold my soul not to be transgendered. I felt so foolish, so wrong and so alone. I felt I had no place in the world. I couldn't fight back the tears, but I knew they would mess up my face so I unsuccessfully dabbed them away with my sleeve which probably made things worse. All my earlier confidence and swagger had gone. I couldn't stay on the bench forever and needed to get home. My upset started to turn to anger at myself for being so self pitying. This gave me the catalyst to get moving. As I got up I started to notice the pain and swelling in my ankle. Any semblance of a feminine walk was lost as I limped my way back, but I got back to the car with no further accidents.

Back home, debriefing my thoughts I actually gained some perspective and solace from the experience. As badly as it had gone no lasting harm had been done. (These days I’m sure someone would video me on their phone and put it up on YouTube). In the wide scheme of human tragedy my gender unhappiness condition was hardly Premiership material, more like a kick about in the park. I had just stumbled over, thats all. Still not quite sure what happened. Probably a combination of heels and lack of concentration! I vowed to get straight back on the horse and went out again on the Sunday, with just my now dodgy ankle to remind me not to get complacent. Now I only ever look in windows to window shop.
Next time.... support groups

For Richard

So this is the new job you've been going on about!

Can you give me a quote for 4 x 195/50 Michelins for a Kia Shuma II!

Saturday Slumping

I was awoken by the sound of the telly going off. I know that sounds odd but I'm so used to having BBC News 24 or Radio 5 Live going through my head while I'm asleep, that the absence of noise seemed to kick start my brain with a jolt. It is such a bad habit and not terribly green. It also means that the world's news constantly seep into my dreams. Currently Barack Obama is a favourite in my dreams. Could be worse though, I don't relish the though of Gordon Brown popping into my head, or anywhere else for that manner! Anyway, I awoke on Debs sofa because I was babysitting over night. The telly blinked off due to the prepay electric meter running out, but at least it got me moving before midday on a Saturday, which is an achievement.

I had been in a good mood all afternoon when while slaughtering "Circle of Life" to the car stereo, I again lapsed into one of my annoying self pitying slumps. This revolved around me opining how I would never meet anyone, let alone have kids. Thankfully Vicky was on hand with a prescription of 2 measures of comforting mixed with a good dose of reality. A couple more mind twisting episodes of Heroes later and I was back to some semblance of sanity.

Vicky is on a date tonight so I performed my usual duties of keeping her calm while she panicked her way through a list of misplaced date essentials. Ive stopped round her place while shes out, so we can have a full date debrief when she gets back. Just watched some dire songs competing for a spot in the Eurovision Song Contest. Where are you Bucks Fizz when your country needs you!

Not Gordon Brown

Worst news today. The mighty Potters, Stoke City have slipped from top of the Championship. How many points do we need to avoid relegation!

Friday Night Reflect

Here I am another wild and crazy night! Debs is out and Me and Vix are babysitting.
We are both sitting at our laptops. We amused ourselves for a while by swearing at each other over MSN. I wonder if, ,with evolution humans will eventually lose the power of speech and will only converse by the medium of text and Instant messaging (then I wonder if this has already happened). Its amazingly windy tonight (and I don't mean Vix! (A very poor joke, sorry)). What with that earthquake the other night, I feel a sense of foreboding. Perhaps this is the beginning of some sort of Armageddon. My dilema is, do I tax my car or not? I would hate to waste £150.
Its been an up and down week at work. There is so much going on that sometimes I just feel I'm plate spinning (and if you know how clumsy I am, then you can imagine the mess). Also got called a couple of "he's" and even a "Geoff". I tried not to let it bother me too much, but its not easy. In my head its like someone saying "who do you think your kidding?" In the plus column we had a successful meeting in London and when I weighed myself, despite all the crap I'd been eating I hadn't put any weight on. Best news of all was that Vicky got her hands on series 2 of Heroes.

I've been playing around with my new camera. All I ended up with were a couple of pics of some local ironwork!

Anyway, better go. Sylar and Peter Petrelli beckon ........