Becoming Jen (Part 13)

Doctor, Doctor

After the success of my visit to my brother Billy's I again settled into a rhythm with my life. I was pretty much full time, fun time Jenny, away from work, and scruffy self loathing Geoff at work. Only my closest colleague knew, and she was really discrete. I must admit I was staggered that people weren't noticing some changes. My eyebrows were thinning, my nails more shapely, with a subtle sheen, which jarred terribly with my ill fitting trousers and barely ironed shirt. I guess some things looked so odd that brains did not compute. I have seen that happen since. When I first met my father in law as jenny. He was an unreconstructed northern farmer with whom my relationship was to talk about football, business and football. He was never going to be a flag-waver for LGBT rights. A decent hard working, blunt man, he walked into the room, me sitting there in a sleeveless top and short skirt and did he not bat the slightest of eyelashes. "Did you see United last night he said", "Yeah they did well" my reply..That was it. As far as he was concerned, he had no point of reference for my change so his brain just chose to ignore it. Whenever we spoke after that, nothing changed, whatever I looked like. That was ok by me.

Anyway, back to my work. I knew I couldn’t keep things secret forever. I decided to slowly expand my "Circle of Trust". So as a good Trade Union organizer I set about a finely calculated programme of briefing sessions, to a hand picked few. Of course I could never stick to a plan. I started with some more of my Trade Union colleagues. Women onlyy, at first of course. Talking to a man about being a Transgendered was going to be another level of trickiness. I used my tried and tested, picture method. Mainly if I'm honest because I got a bit of a kick out of surprising them that I could look so good as a girl. (I do accept this picture was a fluke, not looking like a goggle eyed giant!) "I can't believe its you. You look so good" I would reply with a touch of disingenuous modesty. I have to be honest I loved these compliments, however much I pleaded otherwise. I still do. The only time anyone passed comments on my appearance previously were of the "tuck your shirt in", "Your flies are undone" or "Would it have killed you to have a bath" variety.

For the first time in my life I was getting praise for my appearance, even if it was just a photo. No, there was one other occasion. People did say I looked good at my wedding. They were absolutely wrong however. I looked like a bouncer, stuffed in an ill fitting mourning suit, with a severe pudding bowl haircut. Now if I had been allowed to dress in my wife’s gorgeous wedding dress then the compliments would have been due. I did manage to 'borrow' that dress one day, but I don't think it was designed for housework (with a train and hoover entanglement being one pitfall)...Focus Jenny...

I was getting unanimously positive feedback from my self outing sessions. Like any other drug I needed more. I started telling some of the managers, old colleagues, fast food vendors and even people I wasn’t close too! Pretty soon there was an extensive underground movement of Jenny knowers, each unaware of the existence of others. I of course told each one separately, that hardly anyone else knew, and it was such a great secret that I was only telling them because they were special (When only my kebab shop man was really special!. There is no greater bond than that forged through a Donner Kebab in Nam Bread) This way, not only did I feel good about the revelation, but those I told felt pleased to be trusted. Such hubris on my part. This Secret Society of Jenn-ites should have had a secret sign, just like the Freemason’s. Perhaps a waved limp wrist!

I knew that eventually, a critical mass would be reached. That would be when enough people knew that it couldn’t possibly be contained. I was also getting more reckless with my Revalatees (not sure this is a word) I was telling people who I knew could keep a secret about as well as I keep things tidy! Just like the US government insisting that JFK was killed by the lone gunmen, I would be living as a man, while everyone knew the real truth. However I still wasn’t 100% sure what my plan was. I had said to all my victims that I was telling them because one day I may start to come to work full time as Jenny. I said this at the same time I didn’t really believe it. If I am honest with myself in the beginning this rationale was as much as anything an excuse to reveal all. However these revelations were becoming a self fulfilling prophecy. I very soon realized that once the message became firstly gossip and then common knowledge, I would have to make a decision. For the first time I started to realistically consider being able o live as Jenny Full Time and forever. This was such an exciting and enticing prospect. As a born again worrying pessimist I tried to think of every reason why I shouldn’t pursue this goal, but I was too far gone. I was totally captivated by the possibilities

It was at this time that I started to consider the practicalities of Transition. If I wanted to live true to myself, I also wanted to have a body that was true to me. To do this I would need hormone therapy and eventually the dreaded surgery. When I was talking to my confidees, and was asked about Gender Reassignment (though everyone did use the outdated Sex Change term), I used to deflect the question, or downright lie and say I hadn’t thought about it. I have always thought about it, and craved it. I just never thought it a realistic proposition. Now was different. If I was going to live full time as a woman, why on earth couldn’t I have the medical support I would need. So this thought in hand I set off to my GP. I felt I needed to go in fully Jen mode so that morning I had dressed in my best working woman clothes (I mean skirt suit not the other euphemistic use of the term). I felt so uncomfortable as I stood in the queue of the crowded sniffle filled waiting room. My turn came and I whispered to the receptionist. “Geoff Harvey for the doctor please, but when you call my name can you use Miss Harvey instead". The receptionists was fine with this, once she had deciphered my whispering.

I sat at the back of the waiting room and did what the room demanded, I waited. I kept my head down not wanting to draw attention. I have discovered this is exactly the wrong thing to do. Trying to look like you don’t want to be noticed, just makes you look a bit shifty. There is a term “Throwing Shade”. Meaning the best way to pass is to “hide” in plain sight. I leant this from my first tentative shopping trips, that if I stopped ducking and hiding behind the shelved and just went about my business normally then no one would really notice. Anyway digression aside my turn came. “Miss Harvey for the Doctor” This was the first time I had heard myself referred to as Miss and I have to admit it felt wonderful. I sashayed my way through the coughing throng. I was nervous about what I was going to say to the Doc, but I was heartened when I saw whoit was. It was the female Dr X. Obviously X was not her real name (although it would have been fun to have a mysterious X figure as my doctor) for reasons of privacy. She was a lovely, personable doctor who had been really kind to Caroline and me previously. I felt she would understand.

“Hello” she said in a quizzical but comforting way. “What can we do for you…err?”, “Jenny” I completed. “I err …I would like to be referred to someone about my gender” Not the most complete and helpful of statements. My Doctor knew straight away what to do. We will refer you to Consultant Y (here I go again, perhaps I should just make some names up), at The Harplands Hospital. Because of my job, which covers members of staff at this hospital I actually knew Consultant Y, with whom I had sat on a couple of committees. A straange situation, but I didn't mind. I thanked Dr X, and asked if they had any other patients like me. “Oh we have 4 others from this practice. I should have been pleased that I wasn’t alone, but the egotist in me was saddened that I was not so special!

Anyway, in that space of 2 minutes I went from confused semi closeted T girl to a pre op Gender Dysphoria patient. I left the surgery with my mind in a whirl of possibilities and trepidations. It didn’t last long, I had to go straight home to change back into my drab male garb, my drab male persona, and get back to work.

Now for the first time, I had a plan…well sort of

Blokey Post Alert

Its an Outrage



News has reached us at Blog Central (well my brother has just text me) that the mighty Potters, Stoke City FC were robed of a crucial 3 points in their heroic assault on Premiership Promotion! Their opponents on Saturday, Sheffield Wednesday "The Owls" fielded 6 on loan players, when 5 is the maximum allowed! We ended up with a 1 - 1 draw, with one of their possibly illegal players scoring. We need direct action now. I urge all readers to do at least one of the following:
+ Take to the Streets, sing "Delilah" and wave your Oatcakes
+ Lobby your MPs for immediate Northern Rock Building Society style Intervention, which could include a £10 billion cash injection and Nationalisation for Stoke City FC
+ Expel Sheffield from the Commonwealth and boycott any Stainless Steel products
+ Scrap Wednesdays, with the added advantage of a new 4 day working week
+ Taunt a Tawny
or just
+ Shrug and Sigh. Apathy Rules (if we could be bothered)



Temporary Fault
Crossing the floor © apologise for the temporary Blokey Nature of this Post. Normal service will be returned to as soon as possible
.
In the meantime here is an emergency wedding dress picture





Please note: No Tawny Owls were distressed in the writing of this post

Evolution

Circle Of Life
Unhappy ► Chocolate ► Happy ► Fat ► Diet ► Unhappy


Gender Modernisation

Hor-moans

I have recently had a change in my hormones prescription. I picked up my second months dose today. I was on some stuff called Ethinylestradiol. I am now on some different stuff called Estradiol Valerate. They are both forms of the female hormone Estrogen, although I think the former may come from a horse! I was on the horsey version for 18 months. They did seem to suit me, with the only side effects being dodgy brittle nails, and a liking for sugar cubes. Apparently I needed to change them as there was a slightly increased chance of not dying from Thrombosis! Which I guess is fine by me. I do think these new 'mones may be having a greater effect than oldies. Certainly things have improved on the breastial front, and sadly most of my body fat appears to be marching steadily south. My friends have also noticed some mood swings. I now fluctuate between the melancholy of Eeyore and the despair of Marvin the Paranoid Android (Don't talk to me about Life), with just a dose of Captain Caveman mania in between (though I hope a little less hairy!). Lest hope it all levels off before I drive everyone else as mad as me.

................

Quiz Night (9) Blonde Actually

Its Easter week for the amlost religious Meakins Cricket Club Quiz. We were 3 non Blondes + 1 this week, with our friend Samantha joining us. Sam is the Blondes music consultant, and with our dreadful record on music recently, we needed the help. Typically this was the first week where there was no music round! We were also accompanied by three of our offspring, Sam, Beth and Abigail. Ostensibly this was due to the holiday period, but the real reason was for an emergency 5th team that we might be able to beat and hence not finish last!

It was Sixth Sense's Gaynor's turn in the hot seat. That meant they were down to 2 members. With the Campos also still down to 2 members, this was a good opportunity for us. It is always difficult gauge a usual strength for the muppets as their numbers seem to range week to week from 4 to something in the mid 20s.

Gaynor started with some Pot Luck. We did ok on this. We did let ourselves down trying to remember the name of the care Richard Hammond crashed in on Top Gear. All of us are avid viewers, but our minds were as blank as our bank paying in books!. We then moved on to the highlight of the quiz. Movie Quotes. Gaynor read out lines from classic movies, with a passion and intensity that moved me! Well I did nip off to the loo! These quotes became longer and longer, until the last question when she pretty much performed the entire last half hour of Love Actually. This was another good round for us. The round following was Only in America. We would have been better for us titled "Only in Weston Coyney and the Meir!" The last round of the first half was on Disasters. This was right up our street, and for this first time we got 10 out of 10. It was nice to see a return for the "Name the Russian Sub that sank? -The Kirsk" question. This is its 3 rd appearance, ranking second only to the "Worlds largest Rodent" question which has made 4 appearances to date. We have adopted the Capybara as our quiz night mascot, and will henceforth make an appearance in every Blondes' quiz!

Half time refreshments. Linda had put on a full spread. I just sat miserable being committed to a Slimming World - Red Day. However my mood lifted when the scores came in. Campos - 28, Muppets - 29, Sixth Sense - 35 and us the Blondes - 28

Second half teed off with a fiendish round on Words, in which Debs excelled herself by spelling Diarrhoea correctly. The next round was right up Vix's street, as our resident Bible and Latin expert. It was titled The Good Book. Thanks to Vix we did really well on this. The final round should have been right up my alley, being on Current Affairs. I was chuffed to remember the name of the Indian Company that had bought Jaguar and Landrover, but the round was too current, and I hadn't listened to the news that day. The main quiz over, we turned to finishing off the throwouts. We had gone as far as we could recognising some leading men from photos. They were an eclectic mix of men. Cant be often that Foggy from Last of the Summer Wine has appeared next to Republican candidate John McCain. The second throwout had tortured us throughout the quiz. Anagrams of Comedy Characters. We eventually thrashed out 13 out of 15. One anagram "A CLEANER RENT LOFT SHY MAN" drove Debs to Captain Ahab levels of obsession, but unlike he, she never got her Dick!

The final scores were in: Campos - 75, Muppets - 79, Sixth Sense 82 and The non Blondes - 93...... We are back!

" When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I've got a sneaky feeling you'll find that love actually is all around.”...

and so is VICTORY Actually

Sixth Sense - 7 wins, 3 non Blondes - 4 wins, The Campanologists - 1 win, The Muppets - 0 wins

Highlight Questions

+ What is the best selling bottled drink in British bars?

+ What is the chemical symbol for Tin?

+ What film does this quote come from? "I believe in two things: discipline and the Bible. Here you'll receive both. Put your trust in the Lord; your ass belongs to me"

+ I which state in America is Mount St. Helens which erupted in 1980 killing 57 ?

+ What is Dendrology the study of ?

+ What was first seen on the floor of the London Stock Exchange, 26th March 1973

+ Which Comedy Character is this anagram. BILLY WAS FAT ?

Becoming Jen (Part 12)

Bottled of Hastings

Spring 95. By now I had “Come out” to 2 people in my life. I hate the phrase come out, it feels so old fashioned n the modern world, and implies that forceful act. My close colleague at work knew about the better side of my life, and my friend Vicky had actually met the new improved model! (Me… Complete with air bags and a new paint job!). However, I was still a long way from living and breathing as a woman. I still had the biggest stumbling block to overcome. My immediate family. I honestly had no idea how I could ever tell them about me. I am not at all sure I ever could have done it on my own terms. This was in no way down to any views they held on such issues. It was all due to my own insecurities and lack of courage. Sometimes people tell me I’m brave to have undergone my transformation. I vehemently disagree. Every decision I have taken was only at the point when I had nothing to lose. I referred to seizing the day in my earlier post, but to be honest I am the least likely person to seize anything. I would more likely just “wave and nod in the general direction the day”! In my journey, everything that happened was because the circumstance and time was right. Yes I concede you might think it brave to walk out in the daylight for the first time dressed as a woman, when you are as clumsy and awkward as me. However, when I think of the struggles many other people face on a daily basis, mine seem to pale in comparison. Mind you the first time I walked down steep stairs inn high heels and false boobs, that meant I couldn’t see my feet... Now that was brave!

Back to my family. As I said I am not totally sure I would have ever told them on my own volition. Without their knowledge I am therefore not sure I could ever have progressed. Although I was always careful where I went out as Jen, I wasn’t overly concerned about being spotted by someone from work. My worry was that once the secret was out it would get back to my family! Luckily as usual circumstances took over control. By total accident, my estranged wife Caroline told them over the phone. I won’t go into the details as to how, but I do know it was accidental. I found out by a phone call from my dad. I knew straight away that something was wrong when I heard an unusual seriousness in his voice. He told me what Caz had divulged I was a transvestite. I confirmed to him that it was true, although a Transvestite was not what I really felt; it was a good shorthand opening gambit. Interestingly it was my Dad who first told me what the term meant. Years and years ago, I must have been about 12; I was watching the sitcom “Butterflies” on the telly. I remember the character played by Nicholas “Rodney Trotter” Lyndhurst was wearing a T Shirt with the slogan “I am a Transvestite” I asked my dad what the word meant and he said, “It’s someone who wears the clothes of the other sex”. For the first time at 12 years old, I realised that my secret had a name, and that I was not alone. I probably went very red at the time, but I don’t think he noticed. I’m sure this brief exchange immediately disappeared from his memory, but it stayed with me for ever. My dad was great on that phone call, managing to temper his understandable concern with support. I actually think that both my parents were more worried about the breakdown in my marriage. I of course bottled thing a bit on this phone call. Instead of expanding I just went along with the term Transvestite, and I think left the impression, I just dressed behind closed doors. I still could only tell him what I thought he wanted to hear. Me, brave!! No I am an utter coward and wimp!

I was still shaking from my dad’s call. It was not over yet. There was another in my immediate family that I needed to talk to straight away. My brother Richard (aka Titch, aka Billy Whizz). Now that mum and dad knew, I thought I needed to tackle this myself. Rich and I were not that close at the time. I wasn’t that we didn’t get on. He lived miles away, in the historic, murder capital of the south coast, “don’t mention the battle!” town of Hastings! (Watch the news. Every other murder seems to be in Hastings!). We only really saw each other at Christmas. We did exchange the odd phone call, usually about Stoke City or other such trivia. We never talked about anything of substance. I could not know what his reaction would be, but for some reason I had the feeling he would handle the news ok. He surpassed all my expectations. “Rich” I said “I need to tell you before Dad does. I am a transvestite”. There was understandable silence on the other end. After this pause for thought, he said, in the way only he could. “Well at least, you are interesting now!” He was so cool about things, listening as I explained everything. I gave a proper account as to where I was with my gender identity, without the need to sugar coat. I put the phone down, relieved but still a bit shaky. I was so glad to actually tell my family, but I had my usual pangs of worry about where it would all lead. I suppose I could have been angry about what Caz had done, but I wasn’t. She hadn’t done this with any malice, and I knew that she had unknowingly done me a big favour.
For the next few months, Rich and I phoned each other much more often. During one such call I recklessly said “I would love to see you and Vicki as Jen (Vicki, is by brother’s partner, not to be confused with my confused friend Vicky!) “Why don’t you come down for the bank holiday weekend?” he said. Without any proper consideration, I agreed and found myself committed to the biggest outing of my life so far!

It was May Day bank holiday weekend, and unusually warm and sunny. This was my first time away as Jen. I agonised over what to pack. Being such an indecisive girl, I ended up taking nearly my whole wardrobe “just in case”. The big decision was more difficult. Was I brave enough to take no men’s clothing at all. Could I totally commit to being Jen for the whole weekend? Typically being such a worrier, all I could think of were negatives. What if something happened, that would need me to be a respectable man to deal with? I had no idea what event that could be, but I had a nagging fear, that giving myself over totally to the world of Jen would be risky. I just don’t do risky! I spent the whole week prior to the trip, mentally beating myself up and down! In the end, to my shame, I bottled it and stowed away an emergency male outfit in the boot of my car. Still I had no intention of being anything but Jen, for the whole weekend, and was genuinely excited by this thought. Of course I tempered the excitement with worry. How would Rich react when he finally met me? How would I react? What about Vicki? What about his friends? He had mentioned joining them for a barbeque. What if they had young kids? Would they want their children mixing with such a creature as I? Only time would tell.
Hastings is about the most bloody awkward place to drive to in the whole of Britain. Its not the distance, it’s the behemoth called the M25 lies directly in your path. To attempt this on a bank holiday Friday afternoon, with a good weather forecast is about the most foolish thing I have ever attempted (and that includes when I attempted Ice Skating). Still it was a lovely warm day and gave me the excuse to try on some new summery clothes. I opted for a long stone coloured linen skirt, with an Aztec style design around the hem, with a white sleeveless top, and flat sandals. I must admit that I felt on top of the world as I headed down the M1. This felt real. I was just like any other girl visiting her brother for the weekend. The only thing nagging away at me was the malignant presence of those men’s clothes buried deep in my car boot. It was a bit like the Edgar Alan Poe book “The Tell-Tale Heart” Was the knowledge of these clothes eventually to drive me to madness. Would anyone be able to tell? Should I stop and abandon them by the roadside? Or....should I just get on with the bloody story!

It took me hours to get there. The really nasty trick this route plays on you is that when you hit the M25 you think you’re on the home stretch. I wasn’t even half way there yet!
I got there fairly late with dusk just creeping in. I wasn’t sure which Titch’s flat was. I searched for some telltale signs. I.e. Loud guitar music from inside. A bungee rope hanging from a window. A unicycle parked outside leant against a motorbike, or perhaps the detritus of a party left on his doorstep. None was evident so I phoned him; He came bounding out like an exuberant Tigger. He made no acknowledgement of my appearance, but just said. “Hey Jen, what kept you?”
I met Vicki in their flat which was unfortunately for me at the top of many flights of stairs. There flat was just like I imagined, practical and festooned with various items of sporting equipment, and wine! We spent a relaxed evening I got to know Vicki better while me and him quoted “Hitchhikers’” at each other while debating Atheism intermixed with arguments over the merits of hockey against football. All in double quick speak! Me and Rich still struggle to stick to one conversation at a time. We randomly had The Incredibles on the Telly in the background. I mentally decided that Rich was quite like son Dash Incredible. What was really good was that we didn’t really talk about my gender status. I genuinely felt it was not an issue for them. I felt accepted.
The next day Rich was due for some ritualised abuse by virtue of a hard red
ball. Padded and boxed up he left Vicki and I to our own devices. Our plan was for a bit of shopping and then round friends for a barbeque. Richard would join the barbeque later when the cricket match had ended or we would be visiting him in A&E, when he had suffered one of his regular appointed injuries! It was great walking round town with Vicki. She is absolutely lovely and really easy to talk too. She also has Rich’s card marked and doesn’t get drawn in to his madness. After buying various cuts of various species of animals for the barbeque (sorry brad), we hit the clothes shops. Vicki was very patient as I tried my way through a succession of clothes that steadfastly refused to fit.

For the barbeque party I changed into a regrettably short pinkish skirt and a sleeveless linen top that matched my skirt of the previous day. I say regret because as the sun would go down, so would my temperature. I was not yet hardened to a woman’s ordeal of trial by unsuitable skirt. I started to get nervous about the barbeque. I knew none of the people going, and I hadn’t got Richard along for protection, until later. I shouldn’t have worried (I should really learn) His friends were warm and welcoming. There was Dom and Vicky (another one!), whose house it was, John and Barbara, and Pete and Sue with their 16 year old daughter. I think they were all Hockey player's from my brother's club. They had obviously heard about me, and made every effort not to appear uncomfortable in any way. I got on really well with all of them. The main topic of conversation was obviously Richard (or Billy as they knew him) and the various scrapes he got into. Most of these seemed to involve alcohol and injuries! The one thing I did pick up from these tales, is that they all think a great deal of him. He eventually, whirled his way into the house with all the force of a Sidney Barnes bouncer and the control of a George Berry tackle! (Obscure Staffordshire sporting references alert !). The evening ended with much wine drunk, many blackened meats consumed, and countless legends retold, and although I haven’t seen any of them since, some new friends made.

Sunday morning Rich and Vicky were heading off rock climbing. For obvious reasons I didn’t join them. Additionally climbing harnesses do not go with skirts! I headed off into town, and decided to see a film. Another first to tick off as Jen. I chose “Revenge of the Sith”, and braved the queue of adolescents, with only a few stares and the odd snigger. It was much better than the 3 previous new Star wars films and I actually cried a bit at the end when Luke is delivered to Tatooine to the strains of the original music.
The evening was again spent round at Dom and Vicky’s, but was a little more low key. The next day the three of us wandered Hastings’s old town which was lovely. I eventually set off late in the evening to avoid any traffic torture. I left with a mix of regret and satisfaction. The weekend had exceeded my dreams. I had been made to feel normal by everyone I had met, and that was all that I wanted. My bond with Rich had strengthened and I now knew Vicki (with an i)much better. If this was a microcosm of living and socialising as a woman then I loved it and wanted more. I will always be grateful to Rich, Vicki et al. for their acceptance of me. At no point did I ever have to rely on thosee emergency drab clothes. I may have "bottled" it in bringing them along, but I never had to even consider using them. The best thing I took from the weekend, was that for most of it I actually forgot that I was Transgendered. I was just me, I was just a woman.

Train of Thought

Another meeting in London today. Easter week means rail maintenance, and an extra hour and a quarter each way, stopping at some of the England’s dullest stations on the way. Over 5 1/2 hours traveling for barely an hours worth of toss arguing with management! Anyway I don't really mind enduring train journeys as long as I have plenty of distractions. I usually rely on a mix of PSP games, listening to my MP3 player and pretending to read a broadsheet newspaper. For me the trick is to avoid too much thinking time., which is definitely bad, for what passes for my psyche This day I failed.

It was the usual spark that set me off. The receptionist referred to me as he. My companion for the day corrected him but the damage was done. It played around at the back of my mind all day. So it was journey home time and I set about occupying my mind. I started by listening to Fish's “Thirteenth Star” album through my PDA. Angst ridden lyrics of a love found and lost was hardly going to cheer me up. As we passed through Harrow & Whealden my mind drifted back to my He/She problem. The man at reception obviously didn’t mean to upset me, and he may well have had some equalities training. I honestly believe that the root of the problem is in how I present myself as a woman. If I was 5 foot 8, slimmer and a more feminine build, it must surely be easier for people to get it right. Being 6'2 and as broad as a wardrobe, however well I'm dressed and made up, some people’s brains just do not register me as a woman. I have been 2 1/2 years living full time as Jen and on 18 months worth of hormones and yet this problem is not diminishing. I think it is time for a reality check. I may never get to the point of fully passing up close. However unpalatable this is, I must learn acceptance of this fact. Just as I need people to accept me and say the right things. I need to accept that people will at times refer to me in male terms without meaning to. To rip off that Stonewall advertising campaign and relate it to me "Some People Are Confused. Get Over It".

Relief from this mental self flagellation, came passing through Watford, when the Ticket Inspector Called. I became engrossed in an exchange between the official and a guy in his early twenties. He was a thin, pleasantly scruffy and tired looking studenty type, with a laid back demeanor. He had committed the heinous crime of jumping on an earlier train than he should. His complicated Advance, Cheap Day, One Way, Super Saver (read all the small print) ticket was henceforth invalid. As the poor guy attempted to explain that as a Student he didn’t have any spare money let alone the £ 115 they wanted, the official gave him a choice. Get off at Coventry or ...well just get off. It was going to cost him another £25 to get home from Coventry. In an attempt to make me feel better about myself I handed him a Tenner towards the fair. I remember being a student and this mess was something I could have easily have found myself in. He was really sweet and said for me to give him my address to post the money back. I declined. 10 quid was a cheap price for a bit of self esteem. It was essentially a self serving act on my behalf, and it took my mind off feeling sorry for myself. It also gave me a reason to chat to him for a while about this and that. I discovered he was studying Geography, so I guess he should have been able to find his way back to Manchester. Sadly I wasn’t able to resist a Sent to Coventry joke.

Coventry and student were soon left behind so I turned to bloging on my PDA, while listening to Les Miserables, to keep me occupied. (This is post modern posting at its best! Bloging about bloging. I am in danger of disappearing in a puff of self importance!) Funnily enough, listening to the musical based on the Students struggle at the barricades in pre revolutionary France, cheered me up. For a moment, I felt the nominal fiscal support for my student friend, gave me some sort of fraternal bond with Marius et al. Then I realized that this sort of thinking, just makes me a deluded twonk!
Passing through Stafford then Stone, I finished my bloging (to be clear, this is not it) so I turned to The Fizz to give me an end of journey boost. A good dose of “Making your Mind up” and “Land of Make Believe” left me smiling at my own cheesiness, as we pulled into Stoke. As we disembarked, the polite train announcer reminded us "When you leave, make sure you have everything"
...Sadly after all this musing, the one thing I didn’t have was any real answer.

Bank Holiday - killing time

This has been a weird and cold cold Easter
I have spent most of it so far finding ways to avoid tidying the house. This morning I found another way. I decided to do a Word Cloud.


click to see full size
I think as a time wasting excersise this is a runaway success.
Now, what else can I do on a cold afternoon justifies not cleaning?

The Good, The Bad, and The Flakey

This afternoon, while debating the pros and cons of getting out of a warm bed I heard the distant call of the first Ice Cream van of the year, This seemed particularly bizarre juxtaposed with the snow falling outside my window. With nothing better to do it started me thinking about my brief career as an ice cream "man".

I would have been 18, and had just finished screwing up my A levels. I needed a holiday job, prior to going off to a University desperate enough to enroll me (That turned out to be a post Toxteth Riots torn Liverpool Polytechnic!). Most of my friends were working in various fast food joints at Alton Towers, who this year had declined to use my services. My dad spotted an advert for a job driving an Ice Cream round. I had passed my driving test only a few months earlier so it seemed the ideal way to earn money and hone my new skills! After the shortest of interviews, accompanied by my dad, and with some judicious lying about the extent of my driving experience I was taken on. I had to cycle the 8 miles to the depot in Uttoxeter. Ashmore's Ice Cream was known throughout our part of Staffordshire, and their Ice cream enjoyed a good reputation. I looked at the shiny curvy vans, with their colourful paintwork, parked in a row. There bodywork was curved and fluted to mirror the soft peaks of an ice cream cone. Inside the vans I could see the gleaming workings of the ice cream machines that would dispense with a flourish, a beautifully formed swirl onto each cone. Then I was shown my Bedofrd Ice Cream van... It was box shaped and bright blue. It seemed to be an unhappy marriage of fibreglass and wood. It was clearly never intended to be anything as exotic as an ice cream van. It looked as out of place against the modern vans, as a Rag & Bone cart in a royal procession. Even morre disappointingly there was no sign inside of a whippy ice cream machine, just some small chest freezers. There would be no flourishing for me. It was just deserts though. It was as close to being an ice cream van, as I was to being an experienced van driver. We were a good match. Thankfully, the first day I was to go out with Ian, who would show me the ropes. Ian was a few years older than me a didn't seem thrilled at the prospect of babysitting the rookieit was a bit like those buddy cop movies. He was the hard bitten, cynical, Ice Cream vendor, who had seen it all before. I was the young, eager, but naive rookie, with the idealistic view of the frozen dairy trade. This mismatched partnership could never work. However, just like Hollywood, by the end of the day, this couple found a grudging mutual respect.

It had been an easy enough first day. Ian showed me the route of my round, while I dispensed the ice cream at each stops. The ice cream was stored in tubs in the freezers, alongside the various ice lollies, and was dispensed by a common kitchen ice cream scoop. There was not much to learn about the range of wares. 2 sizes of cones, a shell shaped wafer, and a box of Cadburry's Flakes for the obligatory 99's. It may have been primitive and basic, by the standards of the Mr Whippy vans, but the quality of the ice cream made up for it. When the day was over I was confident I was up to the job.

The next day I was on my own. My previous confidence had deserted me. As low as it was it took a further dip as soon as I started out. The truth was the biggest vehicle I had driven up to then had been my dad's Ford Sierra. I managed to reverse the van exactly 12 feet before I hit the wall of the yard, denting the rear bodywork. I can't really say it detracted from the overall shabby look of the van. Anyway I managed to hit the road without hitting anything else.
Over the next week I got into the swing of my round. I also made the discovery that I had a choice of chimes. My van had an electronic chime, not quite in the usual tradition. I could choose from about 50 chimes, including some film themes. So that week I sold ice creams to the melodies of "Star Wars", "Superman", "The Great Escape", "The Magnificent Seven" and more innapropriately "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly". When I say sold ice creams, I may be exaggerating! The following factors were combining to thwart my efforts as an ice cream mogul. The weather was miserable for a January, and this was in June! My round consisted of a succession of picturesque , but sadly sparsely populated villages. My van did nothing to help attract customers, who were more likely to bring me their rubbish rather than rush out for an ice cream.. My vehicle was so mechanically unsound that I had to plan my route to where I could top up with water to stop the thing overheating. Every time the thing overheated the freezers failed, and the Ice creamtook on the consistency of lumpy sour milk! The one insurmountable barrier throughout, was me. I am no more cut out for a career in sales than I am for a career in ballet. Kids would come up to the van asking for a 99 with all the trimmings and then offer about half the price. As a one time fat kid (and now time fat adult) I always felt empathy with a fiscally deficient, slightly chubby, Ice Cream hungry kid. Of course this made no business sense. I was on commission and by the end of that first week, I had earned myself, barely enough, to keep a closeted TV teenager in tights! The boss showed me undeserved generosity and made my wages up, but I could tell he was regretting hiring me already.

The second week was barely an improvement. At one point a nice lady took pity on me and brought me out coffee and biscuits. I really thought she hadn't grasped the vendor / customer dynamic, but it was really sweet of her. Towards the end of the second week, fearing the sack, I turned to a more aggressive marketing strategy. I deviated off the route to my school town of Cheadle and parked myself on the school bus park, at final bell time. Although I actually did some starting business that afternoon, I incurred the wrath of the regular, and authentically Italian Ice Cream man, who's pitch was just around the corner. I was served with double cone of bilingual expletives with a sprinkling of Sicillian threats. I did think afterwards that he did have a point as this was his livelyhood and I would most likely spend my earnings on chocolate, tights and Lego. After that second week of poor sales, I decided my career in commerce was over and I quit.

The only things I had to show for my enterprise were a 10 Flake a day habit, and a collection of Italian swear words!

A Lego model of my van. Uncannily accurate apart from the fancy faring on the roof. Courteousy of the amazing http://www.brothers-brick.com/

Boomerang News

I have just heard that a Japanese Astronaut on the Space Shuttle Endeavor, has proved that a boomerang does come back in space. Now if Stephen Hawking's "A Brief History 0f Time", had included such information I might have been able to read past the first half (well page 1 to be honest). This throws (sorry) up a number of questions.

If you were orbiting the earth in one direction and threw the boomerang in the opposite direction, would you meet yourself coming back? If said boomerang was thrown into a black hole, would Relativety Therory mean it return with an infinite mass ? Would an infinite mass boomerang be quite tricky to catch? Is Relativity Theory ,just relative? Was my 2 years of Physics a waste of Taxpayers money? (Please do not answer) What an inconvenient week for Arthur C Clarke to pass away.



The Constellation Boomerang Minor

Bit of Politics - Please don't Switch off!

On May 1st there will be local elections held throughout England and Wales

In Stoke-on-Trent we face the malevolent presence of the British National Party. I love my city, but the one aspect I am ashamed about is the fact we have a such a big presence from this racist, hateful and divisive "political" party. In our city council, the BNP has the second largest number of seats giving them a veil of respectability. I think this is unique throughout the country. Their bigotry is not just confined to those of different race or religion, they also espouse homophobic views and are certainly no friends of the Transgender Community. If want to know more about the anti BNP campaign click the banner below

HOPE not hate 2008: Celebrating modern Britain

Quiz Night (8) All The President's Muppets

Well so much for the power of prayer. Next week we shall try witchcraft! I've just got back from our now weekly humiliation at the now Internationally famous Meakins Cricket Club Quiz. I can confidently make this claim now we have information that this damn blog has been viewed in 18 countries! Note of caution: If you haven't seen the 1976 movie "All The President's Men", then some of this post may not make much sense!( no difference there)

I am feeling under pressure this week from the rest of the quizzers, now that they are reading these reports. On arival, I was immediately descended upon by various Muppets and Sixth Sensers with points to make over the accuracy and fairness of my reports. I informed then firmly that no one should attempt to sensor the power of the press. In the tradition of Woodward and Bernstein, I must report the facts as I see them, and will not be bowed by the pressure of vested interests! The public has a right to know! (Have I gone over the top yet!) Unless of course our team continues to lose, in which case I reserve the right to spin (i.e. lie) the results in our favour. The Watergate theme works pretty well this week as poor Muppet member Anne, this week's Quizmistress, had to suffer her way through a croaky voice, thus becoming our very own "Deep Throat". I did wait fot a Robert Redford lookalike to appear but alas was dissapointed.

The quiz started well for us, for a whole 4 questions, then the rot set in. Our answer sheet started to contain more blank spaces than answers, as we bickered and hesitated our way through the first half. The low point came when we ere asked to name all 9 of Queen Victoria's children. We managed only 1 of them and that was through the tactic of putting down every royal sounding name we could. On reflection I think Brooklyn and Britanny were probably very poor guesses!! We also started to irritate the rest of the room by completely losing our place. Clearly counting 1 to 40 was beyond us this week. This was probably the worst first half performance we had put in. The only question we were confident of was "What is the shape of Mr Rush from the Mr Men books?" We had found our level.

We gained back some favour from the club by providing the food. An eclectic collection of pan European Dishes (Well we had Lasagne) and some Sausage Rolls.

The first half scores were in. Look away if you are easily disturbed, this was not going to be pretty. Sixth Sense - 30 , The Campos - 22 , The Muppets - 21 and Us The Blondes a pitiful -17!

Still we stood a chance in the second half. That chance was, if all the other teams suddenly realised they had collectively left the gas on and rushed home. My half time suggestion of some form laxative poisoning in the food had been vetoed by my teammates, mainly because they too hungry themselves! The second half was an improvement for us, although we still managed to talk ourselves out of right answers! There was one controversial question "What is the unusual thing that an oyster does every year" The answer was "Change Sex" which is obviously not that unusual, being that at least 8 % of our quizzers had done so! Although we improved we did have moments of utter stupidity, managing to answer one question as "George Best", instead of correctly "William Shakespeare" The throwouts were an interesting mix, with some Dingbats, some collective animal names and the duration of number 1 hits to answer.

The final scores were in The Campos - 58, The Blondes - 60, The Muppets - 68 and guess what! Sixth Sense - 89 points. I am really beginning to think they must have sold their souls in some pact with the quiz devil! After the quiz a Muppet delegation challenged my previous reports that they were yet to score, especially as they were a clear second this week. I countered with the pompous opinion that second place is nowhere in the dog eat dog (hotdog would be more apt for us) world of the quiz. Second Placers are the First Losers! Still, we are in no place to crow only avoiding being the Last Losers by 2 points!

To Complete the Watergate theme. i would love to have reported that the Muppets got a well deserved Victory, but in the twisted words of Richard Nixon "There will be no Whitewash in the White Club House"

Highlight questions

+What is Paul McCartney's middle name ?

+What is the first Prime number to come after 1000 ?

+What are the Corns in Corned Beef ?

+ A Murmuration is the collective noun for a group of what?

+Dingbat - What phrase is indicated by HAEMUND=BUDUOSH

Scores on the Doors

Sixth Sense - 7 wins

3 non Blondes - 3 wins

The Campanologists - 1 win

The Muppets - 10 wins

(one of these scores may be wrong!)

A Prayer for Tonight's Quiz

Prayer to St. Magnus of Mastermind

O Great Quizmaster
Please grant us
The knowledge to answer
The fortune to guess
The memory to recognise
And
The speed to finish
Please let us debate without bickering and write without mess
Above all Great Quizzer
Give the Sixth Sense the bloody night off!!

Becoming Jen (Part 11)

Jen-tly Does It

Early Decmber about 4 plus years ago, maybe even 5. I must admit the last few years have been a bit of a blur and my accuracy of timescales may not be wholly trustworthy. I am fine on a weekly and even monthly basis, but give me a year and I’m stumped! I couldn’t even tell you with confidence what year I got married or how long I have lived in my house. Ironically I am much better with finer detail, especially with clothes. All those years of secret dressing and yearning means I can recall with absolute clarity, details of friends outfits! Anyway, I digress (for a change!)

I was still living my split existence. Caroline was the only person in my life who knew about my secret other half. Although Caz was really supportive when we were together, this was becoming increasingly rare, now that we were living effectively separate lives. My growing confidence in my appearance, and my acceptance that this was not some passing phase meant I had to face the fact that I could not live like this forever. Now I had started on this journey, I had to make it to the end. I didn't know where the end was or even how or when I would get there. I did know that I couldn't tread water for ever (I only got my Bronze swimming certificate) . I had to come to terms that if I ever wanted to progress I would eventually have to talk to my friends and colleagues. It must be better for me to do this on my terms rather than be seen, outed and confronted. On top of that despite being married and attending a support group, the Jenny part of my life was still a lonely one. The urge to talk to someone about the better half of my life became unstoppable.
There was always going to be a degree of risk in coming out to someone. How could I judge whether this would be a positive step for my progress, or an utter disaster for my personal life, career and everything! As a good one time failed physicist I decided I should come up with a formula!

G = ± (P x R) / (C x h) ,where

G= How Good the outcome will be for me, P= The positivity of the reaction from the individual, R= The closeness of my relationship with the individual, h=Planck's constant (my bit of Physics!). I precisely calculated (complete guesswork!) each value and fed into my old school Casio calculator...ERROR...tried again with my fat fingers....

Success G=42576.726 J/s. That must be a good score!

In the end this endeavour proved exactly 3 things

1) I was never really cut out for academia

2) I am clearly a complete idiot who has just wasted two precious hours of life

3) That school Lied to me. Algebra has no place in the real world!.

I was just going to have to Seize the Day and go for it!

(with just a side order of my usual caution)

I decided to aid my explanation to my colleague, with a couple of pictures. Now as you can see the camera is not my friend (more like my sworn nemesis), and sadly in the words of the mighty Bucks Fizz “The Camera Never Lies”. I would just have to make it fib a bit! I had previously experimented with the supermarket Photo Booth with mixed results (mixed being from awful to absolutely atrocious). So I turned to my cheap Web Cam. This had 2 things going for it. A low resolution meant that my make up didn’t suffer too much scrutiny and secondly I could look at the picture as I composed it. After many attempts I hit the spot. This is the pic attached to my profile on the right, which looks just like me, except younger, prettier and with someone else’s face! I love that pic, but I should really stop using it. Any male interest obtained by use of that image would have to be a serious breech of the Trades Description Act.
Armed with the picture I sat down in my office with my colleague. It was an apt venue as my office had been the first place I had gained the confidence to go out (see part 3). I had no idea what words I should use. “I have to tell you, I am a Transgendered” Seemed so clinical, and I wasn’t really sure it was the right term. In the end I just showed the picture to her and said. “This picture is of me!” She was understandably stunned for a moment. After all I was the official 2nd scruffiest lump in the workforce. My colleague was brilliant though. She stayed calm and said “I think you better explain more”. So I poured it all out, while she listened carefully with reassuring nods in all the right places. In terms of my stupid formula G was really high. I left feeling euphoric, and for the first time a bit unburdened. Of course afterwards I had the odd panic about what I had done. The genie was now out, and who knows where it would end. However on balance it was a big hurdle to overcome and I had done it without landing splat on my face.

There was always a danger with this positive experience. The euphoria would eventually fade. I would need more “victims”! If you have read much of this drivel that passes for my life, you will realise that Vicky is my best friend. At this point in my life I didn’t see so much of her. At that time she was in a relationship and living with her partner. The urge to tell her finally got too much to bear and on Boxing day I phoned her up out of the blue. “Hiya Vix. I need to tell you something”. I sounded unusually serious. “What is it?”, she replied with a degree of concern. “I don’t know how to tell you this“ I said. “Come on tell me, tell me”, she countered with even more concern. “I err…I am errrr…I am a Transvestite”, Im splurted

A moments silence,that was just short of being uncomfortable, then she replied “Thank god for that, I thought you were going to say you were ill or dying!”. “Can I see you. I mean can I see you dressed as a woman…today!”. Vix has never been the most patient of people. “Of course” I said “I would love you to see me, give me a couple of hour” I put the phone down. I was at once delighted, excited and terrified.
I have never taken so much care over my appearance. This was not like just being able to pass in front of strangers. Vicky was important to me and so was her reaction. I wanted to give the best impression I could. I knew that referring to myself simply as a TV would raise almost as many questions as it solved. I didn’t even feel the term TV applied to me. I probably used it for expediency, to save a longer explaination. I knew that she might imagine that I would appear like a screaming drag queen in stupidly high heels and even stupider short skirt, or I would be like a Mrs Doubtfire frumpy figure. I desperately wanted her to see me as I saw myself. An ordinary girl in her mid 30s. I again plumped for my long denim skirt, a fairly simple black short sleeved top, ruched at the bust, my brown boots and my black zip up jacket. I put on my makeup so so carefully, teased my wig, kneaded my false boobs into shape, pulled the belt holding in my waist as tight as possible and set off. I walked up her drive with so much trepidation. I was as scared as I had ever been. Vicky opened the door. I think I barged past her not wanting to stand on ceremony for all her neighbours, mumbling "Hi". I made some pathetic joke saying “I’ve done something different with my hair, can you tell!”. We both stood in the lounge looking at each other for one long moment. Then we hugged. We had never really done this before. I had never been particularly touchy feely as a man. This felt so natural and right as a woman. When we parted Vicky had tears. These were not tears of sadness but of friendship and of relief. She said I looked really good and couldn’t believe it was me. We talked and talked. This inevitably involved me trying to answer Vicky’s machine gun questioning, which was fine by me. It was such an utter relief to be able to talk. I thought back to the years of dressong in secret and the shame and guilt that went hand in hand. Now I was sitting there with my best friend, as almost any two girls would. I am afraid I tended to ignore her partner sitting In the corner. I wasn’t there to see him, and wasn’t sure how a man would react to me. I must admit to feeling a little self conscious at first. This was me and Vix chatting, but it didn’t feel like usual. Different, but not in a bad way. We had been good friends up to then, but now I had now shared the most intimate of secrets. She was the first person to meet me as Jenny apart from Caroline. That moment when we first met as Jenny and Vicky, strengthened our friendship for ever. That day, the idiotic nonsense we usually talked about, was replaced by something else, something much more personal, something that mattered. From that moment we would always be much, much closer (Although we still talk utter drivel at times).
I was sad when it was time to leave. We kissed goodbye, and then to my delighted surprise her partner insisted he kiss me goodbye on the cheek. As small a gesture this was, it was an important one to me. He had treated me like any other female friend of Vicky. I left with an added spring in my step, which resulted in me almost falling flat on my face again. I was so lucky that at that time, at that place, when I needed one, I had a friend like Vicky there for me. She would never see me in that shabby old redundant gender again.
I had taken another step towards that floor to be crossed..

The Dreaded Lurgi

Tomorrow morning I have to give a talk to a group of Social Workers. Unfortunately I have been struck down. I'm not sure what it is. Having watched far too much House MD on DVD, I am now thoroughly convinced it is either Lupus, Sarcoidosis or even West Nile Virus, although the nearest I have been to Egypt is watching Death on the Nile on TV. The only real symptoms I have at the moment (as opposed to my neurotic imagined ones) are that I am a bit bunged up and have a very deep raspy voice. I have to concede that it could possibly just be a cold virus, but I am worried by the voice.Now I struggle to find a feminine voice at the best of times but tomorrow I fear my voice will resonate like Barry White singing the bass version of "Old Man River", with a sore throat while standing at the bottom of a deep well! I just imagine when I stand up and boom out "Hello my name is Jenny" I will lose the room straight away and any message I am trying to convey will be lost in the incongruity of my voice and appearance. One option would be to whisper, which is not the ideal way to do public speaking, with only the front row actually hearing me. The last option will be to hold up flash cards in the style of Bob Dylan's "Subterranean Homesick Blues" video, and mime my way through my talk. Still, I can't get out of it, so I am going to rely on a prescription of a good night's sleep and a dose of bravado!

Its PC Gone Mad

I must reassure you that this title doesn't mean I haven't turned into a Daily Mail quoting reactionary

I may be a paranoid neurotic (No may about it!) but I think our PCs at work are starting to get self aware. Now I'm not saying it is going to develop into a Terminator Skynet style situation but they do have the power to drive me to consider retributive action. (which will probably be this sarcastic post..the weapon of choice for a Blogger).

Not satisfied with :

+ Screwing up my working day by refusing to boot up when I am in a panic (on average every other day!)

+ Rearranging all my files and burying the most important ones beyond reach

+ Clearly making my spelling and grammar look atrocious

+ refusing to print documents when requested and saving them all up to splurge out at the precisely calculated most inconvenient moment.

+ Altering all pictures of myself to make me look fat and slightly cross eyed

It is now messing with my head by blurring the Internet with reality. Witness the picture above, in which to get a refund on train tickets we were urged to stick them on the monitor. (please note its not my hand!)

I hope this post has reached you in its original, witty, insightful form. If not, this is down to the PC conspiracy and I need you to take all to take up hammers, or a good high heeled shoe and smash the system.

small print : Crossing The Floor © take no responsibility for any PC or high heel shoe damaged as a result of reading this post

leggo girls - Guess who?

Thanks to Brad for the link

http://www.reasonablyclever.com/mini/flash/minifig.swf Me and Vix are imortalised as Leggo Girls. Leave it up to you which is which

Quiz Night (6.1) There's something about Jenny

She has done it! Vicky has finished last weeks report.

Well after much delibaration and hard work...im finally ready to post my detailed report on the previous weeks quiz... Here goes....
I would like to start this article by making a few things clear to the readers of these reports, if you find any mistakes or incorrect use of punctuation this is so done as not to show just how poor Jenny reporting skills are..... There was a definate air of tension in the cricket club that evening,mainly from us non blondes,as much as it pains me to say Jenbo(Beths pet name for jenny,I like to think she ment to say Dumbo....) actually does come into here element at the quiz so debs and I were feeling distinctly nervous at the prospect of "going it alone" and this was not helped by the fact that while handing out the throwouts Jen decided to whisper(i say whisper but i use it lightly)that she had forgot the answers to part of the quiz!!!..so not only was there a definate chance that the team was going to look rubbish without her but there was also now a chance the team would look extremely incompetent also!..not that this would be the first time,we actually turned up for the christmas party(goodies in hand) on the wrong day! The teams stood as,sixth sense full team quota,campos at two,non blondes at two and the muppets at 9 million.....I believe there was some out of town help from a muppets family.... The Quiz was about to start we all sat poised with pen in hand waiting for that first question........And this is the position Deb and I held most of the evening,our pen rarely touched paper! Sixth sense were their usual busy selves scribbling down most of the answers,the campos, down john,also seemed busy answering the questions,the muppets were also writing down answers at a terrifying speed......There seemed no hope! suprisingly at half time we had managed to pip second place from the muppets! this injected a health of over confidence into the two of us...."we wernt useless...we didnt need her.....ahhhh we scoff at your quiz Miss Harvey" were just some of the comments flying between us..........then sadly came the second half. This was not one of our finer moments we struggled on the throwouts (shots of bloody buildings! I ask you) and even seemed to find the T.v characters a problem,which was odd as deb really does have square eyes!!! all in all it was a moment akind to the sinking of the titanic(not so many deaths granted)...the final tally was in 1st place Sixth sense,2nd the campos,3rd the muppets and last but not least the 3 non blondes,But as eveer it was a great evening as always......and I just have to say...WATCH OUT SIXTH SENSE...THIS IS JUST A LULL.......and on that mature note im going to bid my farewells and leave the wriring to Jen..........Vix x

Quiz Night (7) A Cheese Too Far

It would be great to be able to report a dramatic nip and tuck tussle for victory at this week's Meakins Cricket Club Quiz sponsored by The British Cheese Board™ "Because Cheese is not just for Crackers" Sadly I can't because this week it was a runaway victory. I will try and leave an air of tension by not revealing the winners (Like you can't guess!)

It was the turn of the Campos to provide the quiz. With one member still absent (Get well soon John xxx), this meant it was down to Mick to ring the bells by himself! The other 3 team were at a full fighting weight. This quiz was literally the Sublime to the Ridiculous, starting with Art and Literature and ending with Cheeses! Let me provide the filling for this Art / Cheese Sandwich, if you will!

We started ok on the literature questions, until the question Who wrote "A Spaniard In The Works"? We spent ages trying to remember the actor who played the Spanish waiter Manuel in Faulty Towers. After going round the houses we cam to Andrew Sachs....Sadly the answer was John Lennon! This pointless and plainly wrong deliberation meant we missed the next couple of questions. We struggled through geography and found our feet again on TV and Science. Half time....mmmm Sandwiches and Chips... Ironically no cheese sandwiches though. Thanx to Vix for volunteering us, our team will be providing food next week. The scores were in... Campos - 32 ; Muppetts - 34 ; Blondies - 36 and Sixth Sense - 47!, yes 47 out of 50!!

Second half underway...First section on Dr Who was good fun and we did well. Next up film quotes, again a good round for us except for the "Think we gonna need a bigger boat" quote, in which we went through the whole cast of Jaws, except for the right answer the recently departed Roy Scheider (NOT Schneider, there is no N! as everyone keeps saying!). We were woeful on the music round. Then came the Quiz defining round.

Name the 10 best selling Cheeses as listed by the British Cheese Board?

I will leave the answers to you except the one answer that drew unanimous scorn. Cottage Cheese is NOT a cheese. The BCB are wrong. It is just lumpy yoghurt! !! I have never seen the quiz club so united. We moved to the throwouts. Identifying TV shows from pics went well. Then we had some tricky dingbats, eg CKXOTS, which was Stock Exchange (you get it!) The final scores were in The Campos - 85 ; The Muppetts - 95 ; The Blondes - 98 and Sixth Sense - 114! Hardly a close run thing!

One important note. The peace and harmony was over. The 3 non Blondes were back to their bickering best. I'm sure that is in no way connected with my return!

Highlight Questions :

+ Which one letter TV series featured an alien invasion?

+ What is the part of the body with the technical term Coxa?

+ What did 3rd Dr Who John Pertwee call his car?

+ If Fort Knox stores US gold, where is Silver stored?

+ Who was the Boxer featured on cover of Beatles Sgt Pepper album.

and one Dingbat : What word do you get from : 1.London, 2.Moscow, 3.Cairo, 4.Paris, 5.Jerusalem

Results for 2008

Sixth Sense 6 wins

3 non Blondes 3 wins

The Campanologists 1 win

The Muppetts 0 wins

Please note We are all awaiting Vicky's report on last week

A happy 2/3 rds of Sixth Sense

Becoming Jen (Part 10)

Are you all still with me? I'm sorry if this seems a long slog. This part of my story is slightly non linear with the rest, but it covers my time with a support group.

Up The Junction

After my enjoyable night out On The Scene, I was keen to make new friends in the community. Nathalie, who I met at Lichfield Dressers told me she also attended a lager group that met in Derby called T-Junction. This would be handier for me, so I decided to go along. I got directions via a lady called Karen who was its chief mover and organiser. The venue was at a small community centre smack in the middle of a housing estate. The building was an the centre island of a tiny cull-de sac surrounded with bungalows. I am never quite sure what to wear to such groups. I always tried to dress appropriate to a woman of my age, but this sometimes left me looking a little dull next to the fabulous outfits of fellow members. I was dressed in my usual long denim skirt, sweater and long boots. I stood outside my parked car with a degree of trepidation. The community centre had lights on but the curtains all closed. I could understand the need for privacy in such an area, but my innate neuroticism coupled with my talent for confusing arrangements, I could not be 100 % sure that it was T-Junction inside instead of a different community group. The thought of me blundering into a Neighbourhood Watch meeting did not thrill me. Anyway, deep breath inhaled, I opened to door and walked in. Phew, I was in the right place at the right time, it was clearly T-Junction (I did one week get it wrong a stumbled in on some bemused residents). It was a much bigger group than Lichfield. Perhaps a dozen or so people were there. Some were with their partners, there were 3 in male drab, perhaps not ready to go out dressed, getting changed at the venue, but most made up a colourful spectrum of T-Girls. I was immediately greeted by Karen with the friendliest of welcomes. She introduced me to everyone and I spent a pleasant and relaxing evening chatting and sharing experiences with the other girls and I was sad when it reached chucking out time at 11pm.

Any Transgender Support Group is a fascinating gathering and those non Trans Muggles (see Harry Potter) definitely miss out. I can’t imagine any group so diverse, yet with so much that binds. A high flying Chief Executive, and Mechanic, a post op transsexual, and a high heeled cross dresser, Young and Old, all sharing our, hopes, fears, experiences and make up tips. I remember one fascinating night there talking to a Spanish Buddhist Cross Dressing Dentist (That is someone who needs Biographying!). Being Trans is the ultimate social leveller.
At T-Junction we sometimes invited speakers and held themes. For instance on one week a representitive from the local authority joined us to seek views on provision of services for Trans people. Another week, a Police Liaison came along and we discussed hate crimes. On a lighter, but no less important note we once had a wig supplier attend complete with wares to try on. That was Jenny’s one and only “Blonde Moment”. For me, the most important thing was to be able to talk to and learn from those who understood just what I was going through. I got that in spades. I was always impressed and somewhat jealous over the couples that attended together. The fact that they had stayed together and were supporting each other was a joy to behold. I guess the trick within couples, is to find some sort of balance. Sadly this doesn’t work for everyone and this is not wholly typical.

The highlight of my T-Junction year would be the Christmas party. This was to be held at a cricket club the Nottingham side of Derby. This was my one opportunity to wear my dress! I had bought this a year ago in the post Christmas sale. It was a full ball gown style dress in a metallic rust colour, fitted at the bodice with straps and a full skirt over ruffled netting. I had bought this at a time when I bought clothes for their fabulousness and not practicality. I never seriously thought I would have the opportunity to wear it outside. Being the non drinker I arranged to pick Nathalie up from Burton.
After some last minute crises of confidence over my outfit I got ready. I teamed my dress with black very high heeled strappy sandals, that I knew would be unbearable after a very short time. Over the top of my dress I borrowed a long coat from Caroline. Any chance of blending in and passing would be impossible in that dress, but hey this was not the aim tonight. I must admit for once in my life I did feel ever so slightly fabulous. The only hiccup came when I had to fill my car up. I was nervous enough walking across the forecourt, when up pulled a minibus full of men. I wouldn’t be able to avoid them, and I didn’t see how I was going to get by dressed like this without being read. Considering they all appeared under the influence this I was sure would result in some loud abuse! There was a queue at the till and I decided to take a brief refuge in the loos. This was a time before I was confident to use the ladies cubicle so like many T-Girls before me I became a regular unqualified user of the Disabled toilet. The one benefit was that the disabled loo had a good full length mirror, which to an insecure me was like a sugar cube to Dougal (Magic Roundabout fans). As I squeezed past one of the scary men outside the loo, he said “sorry Luv” and smiled genuinely. Yet again I had made unfair judgements about someone.
I picked Nat up, who as usual looked very slim and feminine. Not only is Nat gorgeous, but she has the tidiest house in the world (I should really hate her!). The party turned out great fun, and everyone had made a real effort with outfits. I got some compliments which I always struggle with, and fended them off with mumbled false modesty. I did actually relax enough to have a dance. Which due to my painful slightly too small high heels involved much more swaying than feet movement. I must have looked like a Oak Tree straining to stay upright in a hurricane! I also remember sitting and talking to Sharon, the wife of Izzy. Izzy was a bit younger than me. They had a young child and she had only just recently started dressing, with some support from her wife. In fact this was only the second time I had seen Izzy dressed as she had previously attended T-Junction in male mode. They were a lovely couple, and although Izzy’s dressing must have put a strain on their marriage, it never showed. Sharon had helped Izzy with her makeup and she looked stunning that night. I talked for ages to Sharon and we got on well. In fact it was then that I had some realisation that I was possibly just as at home in the company of women than in the trans community.
When I dropped Nat off at home I went in for a coffee. The chairs in Nat’s lounge were beautiful designer sprung cantilever affairs. I looked at them and thought... uh oh, they were probably not designed with me in mind. I had to sit somewhere so I lowered myself gingerly onto the chair trying to maintain some contact with the floor to take some weight! As the chair slowly swayed back I panicked that it would not stop till it was bent to the floor, or just snapped in two. I managed to extract myself before any permanent and horrifying damage had been done, and opted for the strategy of perching on the edge of my seat with my feet firmly taking the weight. I could not break a whole chair after the previous loo seat incident. What would I do next..taking a wall out! No harm was done. Nat chatted I for a good while before I eventually made my way home.

I loved my time attending T-Junction, and made some lasting friends. I was regular there for about 18 months, and now my attendance now seems to be no better than an Annual appearance! My friends at T-Junction helped me no end at a difficult point in my trans journey and it seems ungrateful of me to not make the effort to attend and possibly offer someone else the support that I had.
I would urge anyone who is wavering over attending a similar Trans Support Group is to give it a go. There is nothing to lose, and much to gain.