Last Monday (May 14th) I spent the evening with Susie and Julia. We shared a meal together at Café Rouge in Windsor.
It was a really lovely evening and late enough in the day for the place to be fairly quiet and unaffected by the Royal Wedding preparations.
The food and service were excellent, as always.
And here we are:
Last night (Saturday May 19th, the day of the Royal Wedding), and the early hours of this morning, I spent the night with Laura, Emma and Susie at Pink Punters.
Laura arrived at Windsor a little before 5 pm. I’d just about finished with the makeup and stuff.
At the moment makeup is taking a bit longer than it used to. The reasons are partly to do with ideas I picked up from a visit by Esteller and Stacey of Corinthian Spa to Surrey Swans back in September last year. And also from ideas picked up from Lauren at House of Fraser in Guildford in the same month.
The new new things include stuff like:
I’ve also started to use a real brush to apply eye shadow, instead of using the freebie things that come with the shadow. I’ve found that the shadow brush gets thigs done better. The brush holds more shadow and also manages to generate a lot less “spillage”.
Packing a suitcase for the night was a whole lotless elephantine than has often been the case with previous trips to Pink Punters. There was no need for drab (as in dressed as a bloke) clothing an I knew what wanted to wear. I guess like all things in life, past experiences can help make things easier. Though I know that sometimes, in some circumstances, past experiences can have exactly the opposite effect.
Anyway, we set of for the Campanile hotel, just opposite Pink Punters, and arrived there at a little after 6pm.
During the journey Laura shared a story that gave me the feeling that it’s perhaps a good idea to have a pair of jeans available at a moments notice. You’ll have to ask Laura for the details, but skirts and climbing ladders come into the equation.
Soon after our arrival, text messages from Susie and Emma confirmed everyone was there and we met up in the bar. We discovered that there are places to sit and sip a drink outside, which was very pleasant on a lovely warm evening.
We decide to eat inside and discover that, thanks to the new Duke and Duchess of Sussex, there is a free small bottle of prosecco for every main meal ordered, so during the meal we raise a glass to them.
Susie thinks she may need 45 minutes to freshen up before heading over the road to the nightclub. So Laura and I feel we have plenty of time to get ourselves sorted. That is until 22:26 when the text from Emma arrives … “We’re downstairs”.
To be fair, Laura did have a problem with a disobedient zipper.
Very soon after that we’re at the entrance, having our bags examined, paying our fees, collecting a pink ticket, walking p the steps, handing the ticket over and buying a drink.
We realise that something has changed.
The steps that used to lead to the upstairs bar have gone. There are new ones, but they are roped off and lead up to the ceiling.
The prosecco can’t have affected us all so badly … so we hunt around. The only stairs going up are signposted “toilets”. We walk up the stairs and, sure enough, we discover toilets.
Susie … or perhaps it was Emma … has a little chat with a security guard. The words closed, refurbishment and champagne bar are floated. We’re a bit disappointed.
We find seats elsewhere, in the outside covered area not far from a very big open fire. Laura goes exploring and discovers some seats downstairs were the karaoke is currently happening. It’s OK, but the old upstairs area was nicer.
Emma and I reminisce. The pink room that seems to be no more. And whatever happened to the polar bear?
We chat, drink and dance.
The first dance is in the ground floor … middle … main … dance floor.
Later Laura takes us to the lower dance floor.
Oh gosh. The bass gives you an internal body massage. The lights are amazing. Mesmerizing. Hypnotising. It is very loud.
Susie and I retire from the sound a little earlier than Laura and Emma.
We chat a while with another couple. Drink a little.
Susie, Emma and I dance a little more on the middle floor dance floor. A guy there gives the impression that he wants to lift me into the air … but I’m still sober enough to decline the offer.
It’s a after 4:00 am by the time the makeup is off.
I enjoyed the evening a lot. It’s good to spend time with friends.
It’s rise and shine at about 9:30 am. There’s time to shower and do makeup and dress before we have to leave at midday.
And then, of curse, there are the police officers.
I had an email from someone that works at Guildford Police Station asking if I’d be willing to visit them sometime to speak about transgender things. So that’s all planned for May 31st. I’m planning on visiting there along with friends that I know from Surrey Swans and sharing some thoughts and experiences with people there. I’ll write something here to describe how it goes.
A few weeks ago Linda, Chloe and Chelle who come along to Surrey Swans went along to a quiz night organised by people at St. Mary's Church Ash Vale. They had a great time and were made to feel really welcome by people there. I had hoped to go, but wasn’t able to. Not so long ago Chloe, Rosemary and myself went along to a barn dance organised by the church.
I’ve often-times mentioned my own mixed-up views on religion and, more specifically, Christianity. But I have been greatly encouraged by the openness and acceptance shown by people in the Ash Vale area.
Last week I spent a lovely evening with Tina and Julia at Café Rouge in Windsor. There weren’t many other diners, but the food was excellent as was the service. And here we are, Julia, Andrea and Tina:
My wife, Sally, was away for the weekend, and so was Tina’s wife so we Tina and I planned a girlie weekend.
Arrived at home at about 6:15 pm on Friday to begin preparations before getting prepared. Washing dishes, feeding cats, printing out a driving route.
Phone plays its tune. Katie, my daughter, asks what I’m doing over the weekend. I mention Candygirls. She asks about Sunday and the possibility of visiting her on Fathers day. She’s busy, busy, busy revising for exams at the moment and Hammersmith isn’t far away. We plan a visit.
Phone plays again. Tina is setting off and will be here in half an hour.
Now the real preparations.
Almost 8:00 pm. Makeup is finished and I’m ready. Foundation. Silver and bronze shadow, black liner and mascara, red lips, pink rouge. Long polka dot dress.
Food. A trip to yell.com for a phone number. The man at The Blossoms of Windsor answers.
Sweet and sour chicken, chilli shredded beef, egg fried rice and prawn crackers.
Five minutes later we drive to The Blossoms to collect the food.
Soon after 9:00 pm I change … a shorter black dress. I pick up a bottle of wine and we’re on the road to Candygirls.
About 30 minutes later we’re there. Reception is deserted. Everyone’s watching football (England .v. Sweden).
We pay and head upstairs. Depositing the wine at the bar we have a small glass each. Quoting the number 33 later will provide us with refills.
The bar area is sparsely populated at first, but fills up once the football match is over.
Of course, we’re unable to avoid the lure of the dungeon. It took an amazingly long time to work out how the buckles on those wristbands worked. I checked the area for the absence of whips and paddles and hung around long enough for Tina to take the picture and unbind me.
Time flies.
2:00 am and it’s time for home.
Saturday is a trip to Pink Punters. Tina has volunteered to drive there and back … the Campanile hotel rooms are double the normal cost for some reason and Tina needs to head for the South coast early on Sunday.
Tina arrives at about 6:00 pm. We get made up and changed and head out for a meal at Cafe Rouge in Windsor. Parking at the local library is free for local residents in the evening. As I collect a ticket from the pay and display machine the man behind me expresses his amazement that the machine is actually working. As ever, the staff at Cafe Rouge are charming. We order Saumon à la Niçoise and Boeuf Bourguignon, a glass of Merlot and a bottle of Hoegaarden. And I only just now discovered, that to visit the Hoegaarden web site you must be of legal drinking age … so i guess you had better not click the link if you’re not.
Then Coupe Rouge and Crème Brûlée.
A little before 9:00 pm it’s back home to change into another of those little black dresses and we head for Pink Punters.
A308, A332, M4, M25, M1, A5, a little over 50 miles and we’re there.
A lot has changed since last time we were there. The entrance has moved and there are walls and doors were there used to be no walls and doors.
It’s a quiet kind of evening … well, except for the music
Upstairs there are new facilities, including a unisex toilet area. The sign makes me smile.
We smile at a tgirl dressed in not a lot more than tape with the words ‘crime scene do not enter’.
Talk a while with a tgirl from Wellingborough.
Dance bit.
A girl almost trips over a step close to where we’re sitting and has a little conversation with us both. Admiring dresses and expressing frustration about steps.
A party of people head down the stairs towards the dance floor. A girl smiles and waves. I smile and wave back. It’s her birthday she says, pointing ahead at someone who is part way down the stairs. I smile. Come for a dance she says and blows a kiss.
And it’s 2:00 am.
At the exit a girl tells me that I have great legs and makes me smile.
A kinda quiet, but very pleasant evening.
Surrey Swans next Sunday and Sparkle is only a few weeks away.
The other weekend Laura and I paid Windsor a visit. It was a quiet kind of evening. Laura arrived at about 5:00 pm. We chatted a little then drove into town. Parked in the Victoria Street multi storey car park and walked along St Leonard's Road a bit, up along Peascod Street, down Thames Street and into the Central Station and visited Cafe Rouge.
Here .. or there … we are:
As pretty much always, no one paid us any untoward attention. The service and the food were great.
Eventually we wandered back to the car and drove back.
We sat and drank beer and wine … and a tiny little whisky until the early hours. Chatting and listening to music. Quite a mix. Johnny Cash … kind of Country and yet not Country.
And I have at last remembered that I have been planning, for a long time, too look up Johnny Cash singing Hurt. And here it is in the context of a BBC interview:
And here, just the song without the interview:
It is, as Emma said at Surrey Swans last night, a very moving song.
There was also some Indigo Girls and Chris While and Julie Mathews. And a whole lot of other stuff.
At one point in the evening we somehow got talking about Nikki’s escapades. Being asked by a girl at Pink Punters if she had a visible camel toe. Bra fitting at Marks & Spencer’s. And swimming.
The swimming was a new one on me.
In a bikini?
Laura didn’t recall the details.
But … what about the anatomy? Isn’t it even more of a give-away than the voice? You know? The dangly bits?
Not necessarily Laura informed me.
At this point Andrea is intrigued.
So … how do you mean?
Well, you just hide things away where they came from.
Uhm … so how do you mean?
Laura explains a bit more.
But doesn’t it hurt?
Don’t they … well … pop out?
We had drunk a few beers and glasses of wine between us by this time.
Does it really work?
Well … as they say … seeing is believing.
So.
Ok I believe.
The music carries on playing.
Well … I giggle … at least I didn’t take any pictures.
Laura is always up for a challenge.
So here you go. See and believe:
Click here for the detail if you ever wanted to know. The English is a little quaint … though that somehow adds to the thing. Over 198,000 views and 108 comments, so someone somewhere is interested. Mainly in Poland, it seems.
There is a sense of understatement here, don’t you think:
During first tries, you shall be very careful.
I’m happy to agree wholeheartedly with that sentiment.
Saturday December 12th. Sally wakes me at about 8:45 as she sets off to play in a golf match.
Coffee, shower, shave, underwear, makeup and clothing.
Billie arrives at round about 11:00 and we set off for a trip out to Windsor.
Driving into town I’m struck by how thoughts, feelings and fears change as time passes.
Once, not so very long ago, driving around as Andrea in the daylight was a very self-conspicuous kind of thing to do. These days it feels comfortable.
After parking, the first port of call is the Post Office. Last week I ordered some computer memory for a friend and no one was home to sign for it when it arrived on Friday.
Of course, the man at the post office needed to see ID. The picture on the card is kinda fuzzy – but the hair definitely looks a lot different than Andrea’s hair. But he asks no questions and doesn’t look horrified.
Wandering along Peascod Street we call in at Fenwick’s. In the window there is a sign advertising “Pricilla Queen of the Desert”. Makes us feel at home, if somewhat underdressed for the occasion.
Lunch at Cafe Rouge. As always it’s a relaxed affair. The waiter brings food – but a little mixed up gives us the food destined for the people on the next table. The plates get passed across with a few smiles. Again, no looks of horror, or even especially of surprise. No one in the restaurant pays us much attention at all even allowing for our “deep” voices.
The restaurant manager says it’s nice to see us again as he passes by.
I have a shopping list from Sally and so buy some Christmas cards at the British Heart Foundation shop and some more at the Oxfam shop. Two nice glass bead bracelets from the Cancer Research shop (bracelets weren’t actually on the list … but well … I like them).
Then a short walk to Marks and Spencer’s for some food – this was on the list.
The people that I pay tills all say hello and don’t worry at all at the way I look or my rather low pitched voice.
I resolve to leave hold up stockings off my own shopping lists in the future. My legs don’t seem to be sticky enough. Stockings and suspender belt or tights from now on.
Saturday 17th was another chance to go walkabout in Windsor.
One of the challenges of doing this as a tgirl is allowing all the extra time that is needed for makeup and selection of clothing.
The makeup actually begins on Friday night with nail polish. Sally suggests I go pink. And so I do. For a while. Three coats of Urban Princess. Then an accidental argument … my thumbnail versus a door handle … changes everything. The pink stuff taking for ever to harden. So off it comes. To be followed by two coats of bright red Hot Gossip and one of 3 in 1.
At round about 9:30 on Saturday morning I begin the final preparations.
I’m still not skilled enough with makeup to manage much in the way of subtlety. I know that there are different looks … nightclub chick … everyday smart … casual … and all the in-betweens as well.
I just go for a little less foundation. Paler eye shadow. A little less eye liner and mascara. Pink lips instead of ruby red. Thoughts of Urban Princess versus Hot Gossip momentarily pass through my mind.
I select a bra that isn’t front fastening. Having it come undone in the middle of Windsor would be way more inconvenient than the time that it did at Pink Punters. I have discovered that when your boobs aren’t attached to your body it’s really important to have a bra that is unlikely to pop open. The bra is black – one of a pair that I bought at Peacock’s in Bristol - £6 for two.
A mid length denim skirt and red top – courtesy of M&S.
Shoes with low heels.
As I put them on I know they don’t feel anywhere near so good as four and a half inch stilettos. I know, also, that in an hours time I’ll be glad that they are nice and low.
I’m all ready by about 10:50. It’s kinda nice to just potter around the house and relax for a few minutes.
Sally has been busy all morning doing stuff in the garden.
I’ve managed to train her into realising that Andrea’s nails are way to delicate for such tasks. But I do make the coffee.
Tina arrives at about 11:30 just as Sally heads out to play golf.
The comic irony of the situation isn’t lost … wife out on the golf course … hubby out shopping in a skirt.
After applying a few finishing touches we head for the car.
There are a couple of neighbours chatting a few houses down the street. I resist the urge to wave and say hello. I also resist the urge to run back to the house. I have no idea if I am recognised. If I am then I am. Mostly people seem not to notice. But I would be even less noticeable if I were shorter than six feet tall.
Tina drives and mostly I remember to say which way to go.
Arriving at the car park in Victoria Street we pay at the pay and display meter and head off for the town centre.
Alas, Shoe Fetish is no more. It’s been replaced by a shop that sells motor scooters.
We walk slowly.
There are one or two quizzical kind of looks as we walk past people. It must be our husky voices.
But no one pulls faces or passes comments.
Gazing into a few shop windows we wander up Peascod Street from the St Leonard’s Road end.
Turning into King Edward Court we go into the British Heart Foundation charity shop and take a look around.
I see a white handbag – I have white shoes but no white handbag. It’s in excellent condition and a snip at £2,75. The lady at the till doesn’t really look at me as I pay.
We pay a visit to Fenwick’s. Then Boots, Daniels and Marks & Spencer.
Then on to Cafe Rouge. The place is pretty busy. The staff are, as always, very helpful and friendly. The other diners pay us no attention.
I order a Hoegaarden beer, Tina a lemonade. The food arrives very promptly and is excellent.
We chat about girlie kinds of things.
The waitress drops by … “Is everything alright for you, ladies?” It makes me smile.
It’s then a walk along to the castle and a photo opportunity or two.
As I pose a little and Tina juggles two cameras a group of ladies walk by.
“Would you like me to take a picture of you both?” asks one of the ladies. We gratefully accept the offer, and she takes a picture with each of the cameras.
Then on down to the riverside. Tina changes her boots for a pair of flat shoes.
We should have brought some bread for the ducks and swans.
On the way back to the car park we call in at WH Smiths where Tina buys a newspaper.
As we stroll back down Peascod Street a man approaches us.
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
Brief introductions.
“What’s your name?”
“Andrea.”
“Is that your real name?”
“Of course.”
“And yours?”
“Tina.”
“Is that your real name?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m afraid that I have to tell you that you’ve exceeded the local limits for looking cool and being hip whilst out in public. So I’m going to have to ask you to pay a voluntary fine as a penalty.”
Of course, we are smiling well before this.
The man’s eyesight is, of course, immediately suspect.
Actually he is a member of a Hare Krishna group raising money to help support homeless people.
His western name is John … his spiritual name is much more complex.
We make a donation and he gives me a booklet … pink to match the colour of my lips he says.
“Do you have blue ones for boys?” asks Andrea.
“But of course.”
Back to the car and home.
Each little trip out helps me feel more relaxed than the last time.
I have the feeling that Windsor town centre is a good and relatively safe kind of place for a transvestite to wander around in. People manage to “read” me without a lot of difficulty. But that doesn’t bother me really. A thing that Fiona Floyd shared with me several years ago has influenced my feelings on this. As Fiona said, “I’m not a girl, I’m a transvestite. If someone points a finger at me and says ‘Hey that’s not a real girl … it’s a tranny’ then it’s not a problem really … that’s what I am.” I feel the same way.
I think the centre of Windsor is maybe this way because people don’t have problems with strangers and off-beat people. The town relies heavily on tourism and really can’t afford to get overly upset about issues of gender or race or a whole range of other things.
One day maybe residential areas that don’t rely on tourism will get to see people as being people.
The past weekend was busy, but a lot of fun.
At the Surrey Swans meeting at the end of April we had plotted a trip to Pink Punters for 9th May.
Quite a while back I’d asked Tina if she fancied a Saturday walkabout in Windsor sometime.
Early last week Tina emailed to say that Saturday was free .. so how about it.
And so midday Saturday was Windsor walkabout with Tina. Saturday evening Pink Punters with Laura. My longest ever tgirl day, I think … Sparkle 2008 came close … but a night at Pink Punters is a long night.
Preparations begin on Friday evening.
Bath and shave. Only minor little cuts. No nipple-nicks at all. The telephone rings twice during all this, of course.
Pink nail polish.
The day began at about 8:30. The usual kind of tgirl routine … for me anyways.
Teeth. Shower. Shave. Baby oil. I know … I’m no babe … but it softens the skin … or so it says on the label. Pat a pat dry. Deodorant. Moisturiser. Red Door … perfume that is.
Pack the suitcase for Pink Punters.
This is still an oddity. For a single night out, the male me would pack clothing that fitted in a tiny suitcase.
Andrea selects the largest suitcase.
I think I know exactly what I’ll wear.
But … just in case.
A dress. A skirt. Two blouses. Two pairs of shoes. Black stockings. Black tights. Tan stockings. Tan tights. Enough for a spider. Several bras and pairs of panties.
Dressing for walkabouts.
Panties and tights.
Bra and boobs.
Girlie trousers.
Eye lashes. A few weeks ago I bought an eyelash curler. This is described as resembling a medieval instrument of torture by Video Jug.
I squeeze the handles together gently, having read the warning that it might hurt if I attempt to curl my eyelids.
In case you are wondering … the warning could safely omit the word might.
Foundation. Powder. Brush.
Light shadow. Darker shadow. Liquid liner at the top. Pencil at the bottom, brushed a little to smooth the edges.
Clean off the little spots of liquid liner that get onto my upper eyelid.
Touch up the shadow.
Lengthener … or is it thickener … and mascara on bottom lashes.
Thickener … or is it lengthener … and mascara on the top lashes. They must have curled a bit because it seems harder to miss the eyelids than usual.
Eyebrows … a thin line of shadow.
Blush.
Lip liner. Lipstick. Gloss.
Necklace.
Blouse.
Cardigan.
Hair.
Earrings. Watch. Bracelet.
All ready… Billie always laughs at how long it takes me.
Doorbell.
Hoping that it’s not the postman I open the door.
It’s Tina.
Soon we’re ready.
Off and on during the week I’d wondered if I was going to feel nervous about this all. In fact, all is calm.
I can walk to the car slowly these days.
The car park proves to be the most frustrating part of the day.
Residents of the Royal Borough (that is, people that live in Windsor and Maidenhead) are given a little plastic card. The plastic card offers free entry to Windsor Castle … at least parts of it … and reduced parking charges in some car parks.
The man in front of me at the payment machine at Victoria Street car park seems particularly slow and incompetent.
How could it take anyone so long?
At last.
The machine tells me to insert my card or pay money.
I insert the card.
The machine says: Reading Card … Withdraw card.
I withdraw the card.
Machine says: Error reading card.
The machine tells me to insert my card or pay money.
I insert the card.
The machine says: Reading Card … Withdraw card.
I withdraw the card.
Machine says: Error reading card.
And again
And again.
I can imagine the lady behind me thinking that the blond in front must be particularly slow and incompetent.
How could it take anyone so long?
I insert cash and make a mental note to write a letter to the town council.
Tina and I walk along Victoria Street.
Shoe Fetish is no more.
We take a right at Peascod Street.
We pop in to Daniels and then Marks & Spencer.
At the top of Peascod street we head left, then left again into the station area.
We head for Cafe Rouge and the waiter guides us to a table for two.
The waitress has served Andrea a few times in the past … and also my male alter ego. So far as I know, no connections have been made.
The Salade Thon is very good, along with a Hoegaaden beer.
The atmosphere here is fine. People know, I’m sure, that we are tgirls but people don’t stare or make us feel uncomfortable or unwelcome. It’s great.
A short walk to the Castle and photo opportunities. The policemen are reassuringly disinterested.
Here is Tina at the gateway:
And Andrea:
And then … I never knew that there was a dressing service in Windsor.
Two girls give us leaflets explaining how you can dress as an Elizabethan and have your picture taken.
“Can we take pictures with you?” I ask.
“Of course you can … but it costs £1”.
I negotiate £1 for the two of us.
The results:
And:
I was thinking of using the above picture in a Spot the Trannie competition. But I already mentioned that I was wearing girlie trousers.
We walk down Thames Street towards … well … towards the Thames.
We sit by the riverside and chat for quite a while.
Friends. Families. Experiences.
How different people that we know have reacted to the discovery that we are transvestites.
A friend of Tina’s that just cannot deal with it at all. And another that can.
Friends of my daughters. My wife’s sister. People that I talk with online.
Tina told me of a friend that only recently experienced her first makeover and is finding it really hard to not feel deep sadness that it has taken so long discover herself in this way. The friend wishes desperately that it had happened years and years ago.
I empathise. But also, for myself I feel that the timing has worked out ok. Not so long ago the life of a transvestite in public was much harder than it is now. And my wife has adapted to Andrea better than I could ever have imagined. I don’t say thank you enough to her.
All too soon it’s time to head for home.
A walk back to the car park and a short drive.
Tina takes me a little by surprise with a hug and a kiss. I remember that tgirls that I met at Fiona Floyds tended to greet each other like this. It’s a nice girl thing to do and a sweet way to say goodbye or hello.
I had a great time. Relaxed. Unhurried. Great company. And no hassle from anyone at all.
On Wednesday I’ll try and find time to talk a little about the Pink Punter trip with Laura … tomorrow is a TV dinner at Kathie and Billie’s so no time to blog at all.
