Sparkle, Swans, Vibrations and Dancing

Last Sunday was a Surrey Swans evening.

As ever … really good to get a chance to see people … Laura, Billie, Kathie, Tina, Emma …

We talked about Sparkle … what we might do when we get there … will we go to the ball … what will we wear … what time will we arrive …

I bought the usual two raffle tickets … and won a bottle of wine!

To use an English colloquialism … part way through the evening I need to spend a penny.

It’s amazing the things I am still discovering.

On previous visits to the Surrey Swans venue (which is just a regular kind of pub), when I’d needed to visit the loo I’d been to the unisex disabled room. On this occasion it was occupied so I popped into the ladies.

I was amazed at what you could purchase there whilst visiting … so I took a picture of the vending machine … and here it is:

Well … the fruity condoms aren’t so unusual I guess …

I have no idea at all what you can buy in the gents toilets.

We also spent a while discussing Pink Punters … we have a trip there organised f0r May 8th.

The first time ever that I visited Pink Punters was on May 9th 2008. You can read all about it here.

Dianne took some video of the dancing lesson that I had then. I posted some stills way back then … and at long last have posted the whole thing … and here it is:

 

If you look carefully you get glimpses of Laura and Sarah as well as me.

Sore wrists and Pink Punters

I spent a week working in Bristol recently. That was a male-mode thing. Apart from the snow it was fine.

The hardest part of the week was Friday.

Friday morning quite a while after the day began ... round about 8:20 am in fact ... I look out the hotel window to see if I should get a taxi to the place that I am working. How much snow is there out there ... and will there be any taxis?

It doesn’t look too bad – and after all ... there is a taxi rank just outside Marks & Spencer’s – and that’s only a really short walk from the hotel.

Off I set. Pulling the suitcase along – the wheels skidding in the slush. Ice might have been easier.

I arrive at the taxi rank. And there are no taxis.

The suitcase feels heavy. There’s a build up of snow and slush around the wheels.

Also it’s snowing. Cold wet snow.

And the laptop computer in the other bag seems really heavy.

And it’s tricky to juggle everything and keep an umbrella in position.

It seems like a long, long walk. About 30 minutes – but it seems longer.

Every once in a while I stop to re-juggle things around.

At least I don’t slip.

At last I reach the office block.

The first set of doors open automatically.

The second set of doors revolves.

I pick up the pen to sign the visitors book.

And my hand doesn’t work!

It’s not the cold ... my hands are warm.

I obviously am totally unaware of my own strengths and weaknesses.

My wrists are worn out!

In retrospect it makes me smile ... there are much pleasanter ways to get sore wrists than dragging suitcases through the streets of Bristol.

Have you ever tried writing without moving your wrists – just shoulder and elbow movements?
Well ... that’s how I had to do it. The handwriting was appalling – so not much difference there then.

Strange ... carrying the suitcase again was easier than moving the pen around.

It’s almost 10 minutes before I can type.

Saturday 7th February was a Pink Punters night – a thing a few of the girls from Surrey Swans organised a couple of weeks ago.

I spent parts of the week wondering if it would be worth the hassle. The snow ... the way it takes up the whole weekend.

And yet, as ever, I loved it.

My Friday night preparation included toe and fingernails. Nail polish that is.

I still have a problem with my left foot. We went walking in France last summer – in preparation for the hiking in Nepal. One of the end results of the time in France was the loss of the nail of my left big toe.

I do have a bit of a history when it comes to losing big toe nails. I guess I am just careless. When the kids were younger we often went skiing – and almost every year that we did I lost a toe nail. It was either the ski boots that were weird or the shape of my feet. One year I lost both big toe nails ... but one of them was because someone trod on it a week before the ski trip.

Missing toe nails didn’t used to cause me a problem.

In the days of nylon stockings and nail polish things are different. I mean ... there is nowhere for the nail polish to go.

I do have part of a nail now, at least.

There were hassles with my fingers as well.

Initially they were bright pink – but way too blotchy. So I had to clean them off and they ended up being purple.

All of this is part of a cunning plan to prepare for Saturday. I know that trying to fasten a suspender belt to the top of a stocking spells disaster for freshly painted nails!

Come Saturday, the rest of my Pink Punters preparation ritual kicks in.

Bathe.

Shave. Resulting in just a tiny cut on my leg.

Shower.

Pack.

Packing is always a challenge. What do I need to take ... what if I forget something critical? My hair?

What will I wear? In the end I just choose a couple of options. Short black dress or a skirt and a black shirt.

I discover I have a vast number of hold up stockings and so select enough to cope with accidents.

A couple of weeks ago I bought some lip stuff. The idea is you paint it on your lips and it stops the lipstick wiping off.

I decide to give it a try before I go and it seems to work, so I pack that as well. But I take my Maybelline lippy stuff as well – I know for a fact that this stuff stays on lips once it has been painted in place.

The drive towards Milton Keynes is pretty uneventful.

At the hotel everything is fine. It’s pretty quiet.

I’m sharing a room with Nikki. Nikki arrived earlier and is currently touring the local shops.

As I unzip my toiletries bag I notice that it smells especially fragrant and realise that my toothbrush will likely taste of Britney Spears perfume for a while. I make a mental note to pack it separately on the return journey.

As I shave my face I hear a knock on the door. Do I answer it? This would have been a trickier decision to have made if I had been wearing lingerie. It’s a lady with a hand towel.

After the shave comes moisturiser and clothing.

Suspender belt and stockings ... the hardened nail polish survives the experience quite well.

Panties.

Bra. Breasts ... silicone. I remember reading information about these saying that you shouldn’t sleep in them. So far I have observer the warning, not wishing to wake up with a punctured pair.

Short black dress.

To be replaced by a medium length flowery skirt and black shirt.

Then the makeup. The usual kind of stuff. Max Factor foundation. Translucent powder ... eye shadow, liner, mascara, blush, lip liner, lipstick lip cote.

Hair.

Jewellery.

There are occasional little interruptions.

A text from Laura – she and Billie have arrived. I phone and we plan to meet in the bar in a while – along with Emma.

Nikki arrives back as well and needs to get re-made up for the evening. She made up and got dressed low-key for shopping. At first I am impressed at how long Nikki’s dress is – at least a foot longer than her usual attire. However, then I notice that the bottom 12 inches or so is kind of a pretence – just strands of cloth. Makes me smile.

Eventually we head for the restaurant. Billie, Laura and Emma are there already.

Food, wine, conversation and a few pictures.

Billi and Emma.

Billie, Emma, Laura, Nikki and me.

Laura and Nikki.

Nikki and me.

The gang of four.

Holding up the wall:

Then a chance to change – I take the opportunity to do a repair job on my lips – the lipcote and lipsticks is replaced by Maybelline lip paint.

Eventually we cross the road heading for Pink Punters.

And it is cold.

And icy.

But it isn’t raining or snowing.

It takes a little longer than usual, but we all get there with no real mishaps. Nikki is cheating by wearing a pair of sensible shoes – the stilettos are packed in her handbag.

The next few hours are really pleasant.

A few drinks and dances. Pleasant conversation.

Nikki has a label at the back of her dress that keeps poking out. Every so often someone or other dances past and slips it back down.

After a trip to the ladies, Nikki tells us that she was asked by a girl that had a fairly tight pair of trousers on if there was a camel toe visible.

It still amazes us – how different the feminine and masculine worlds can be.

We begin to plan a group trip for lunch or maybe dinner at the Cafe Rouge in Windsor.

I’ve tried some party feet things in my shoes tonight – kind of jelly cushions that help stop the pain. But I’m not convinced that they help. I have the feeling that there isn’t a way of making “dancing in 4.5 inch heels” into a painless experience. But, I must admit, even if it hurts it is more fun than dancing without heels.

There is a girl wearing a corset, very short shorts and fishnet tights that attracts a lot of attention.

Another in a cute black dress with pink trimmings.

Laura occasionally reveals a little more leg than intended.

Guess who ...

Emma remarks that I am wearing more than she expected ... I just smile uncomprehendingly.

Billie manages to keep all suspender belt fastenings fully fastened.

At about 3:30 am we head back to the hotel. It’s a mildly tricky sort of journey – still plenty of ice and snow around ... and 4.5 inch heels are tricky at the best of times.

The ending of another really nice day!

Sore feet but smiling

After delays and complications I at last got to visit Pink Punters (http://www.pinkpunters.com/) on a Friday night – on May 9th. The place caters especially for the gay, lesbian and transgendered community.

I first heard of it at TVChix (http://www.tvchix.com/) almost a year ago when people would mention they were (or weren’t) headed for the BNO ... Big Night Out. At the time I was a long way from feeling able to head out for somewhere like that.

A couple of months ago a few tgirls at the Surrey Swans mentioned they were going and asked if I was interested. It sounded like a nice idea ... pity it’s so far from home. But there is a hotel just across the road and one Friday a month it seems that it gets fully booked with tgirls out to party.
Of course, organising such things is a kinda hit and miss affair.

“Hmmm ... who is Laura ...” my wife asks one evening. Laura is a regular at the TV Dinners and Swans. My mobile phone is slowly filling with similar names and numbers.

At the get together at the end of April things began to take shape. The hotel works out a lot more affordable if you can share a room. When I said that I reckoned that I’d be able to make it, Nikki had also decided to give it a try. I offered to try to book in at the hotel. On the way out Nikki said ... “Ohhh ... and make it twin beds!” Made me smile.

As the day approached I began to have misgivings. I’m not a natural born dancer. I have always pretty much hated discos. On the other hand ... Andrea hadn’t ever been to a disco.

Because today has been warm and sunny I’m sitting in the garden typing this and have decided I dislike laptop computer keyboards even more than I thought I did. It’s really nice though to sit in the open air in a nice blouse and a skirt. The garden is hardly overlooked at all. And I guess that by now I’ve decided that eventually, if people begin to notice my dressing preferences then both I and they have gotta learn to live with it.

So ... Friday arrives and I set off from work early. Well, actually it’s at normal end of work day, which is about 2 hours earlier than it has been for a while. Unusually no one asked about “what are you all doing this weekend” at the lunch break.

I set up the sat nav ... waited for it to acquire its satellites and was off. Hoping it would take maybe 90 minutes.

Thoughts passing through my mind as I drive along are mixed.

Why am I doing this?

It would be so much easier to just drive home.

Did I select “suitable” clothing?

I wasn’t worried about shoes much ... I took them all. And, to be honest, 4 different skirts and four blouses was more than enough to choose from.

The traffic news was good, for a Friday... unless you were driving out of London ... or into London on the M40. Thankfully I wasn’t.

I listened to some Simone White. Lovely voice, tunes and lyrics. Makes me smile and cry.

I get to the hotel and find a parking spot.

Get the suitcase ... I know ... a big suitcase for just one night is a little over the top. But what’s a girl to do?

Start walking through the car park towards the hotel reception.

Then walk back again to the car thinking things through.

In the end Nikki had booked the room. I have a reference number. But ... what is Nikki's name? What do I say at reception exactly?

Too late to worry.

At reception I stand in line.

The guy in front ... do I recognise the voice?

Well ... maybe.

I sure don’t recognise the person ... but ... it’s possible.

I step back a bit. Get my phone out. Try Nikki's number. Hoping to see the guy in front reaching for his pocket.

“You have reached the voicemail service of ...”

It tells me a number. Not a name. I know the number already.

Ah well.

Now I’m at the front of the line.

“Can I help you sir?”

“Yes ... thank you. I have a reservation number here.”

I show her the text message.

“What name is that for?”

“Mmm well ... a friend booked it.”

She doesn’t ask me the friend. I think she knows that I don’t know.

She checks the reference on the computer. Asks my name.

I’m feeling a lot more at ease with this than I expected.

“Sorry sir ... perhaps you can wait for your friend.”

I step back from the desk and get my phone and phone the number again.

It rings.

It stops ringing!

“Hi ... Nikki? This is Andrea.”

This kind of scenario still makes me smile. Andrea and Nikki with such husky voices.

It turns out Nikki is in the room!

“It’s room 119” I say to the receptionist. She hands me a plastic electronic key and tries to sell me breakfast.

I knock at the door and Nikki opens it. And yes ... Nikki had been standing just in front of me at reception ... and had been listening to my voice when I was there checking if I sounded like Andrea.

I smile again.

It’s about 7:00 pm.

We chat a little. The journeys had been fine.

Unpacking and talking.

It’s a strange place to be at. Metaphysically I mean ... the geography is easy. Girls together. Neither of us having seen our complementary selves before.

Nikki heads for the car to collect a few things. I begin to shave.

Nikki showers. I brush teeth.

I shower, Nikki brushes teeth.

We talk.

It feels less oddball than I thought it might.

Now time for the makeup. For the first time this week I think cooler weather would have been nicer. I’m not so sure how well foundation will cope with this. But I’ll know soon enough. The routine of makeup is less daunting than it used to be. But still slow.

Foundation. Max Factor applied with my fingers.

Powder. Kryolan translucent. Brushing off the excess.

Eye shadow.

Nikki wonders what’s going on as I get this out. One of my favourites of the moment is a Startgazer thing. Sparkly white. It’s in a little plastic pot and I kind of smear it on with a little felt tip shaped spatula ... the kind that is included with a lot of eye shadows that you buy ... well ... if you buy eye shadow that is. I get some onto the felt tip and smear it on the back of my hand a little so there isn’t too much loose powder. Then I start dabbing it onto my eyelids.

The voice of Nikki. “Wow ... I thought you were gonna start snorting something for a minute.”

Creases me up.

The lighting in the room by the mirror isn’t so good ... so off comes the lamp shade.

I’m reminded of scenes from “The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert” ... guys applying makeup at a mirror.

Darker eye shadow.

Eye liner.

I must have blinked too soon ... big black lines across my eyelids!

Cotton wool buds to the rescue.

Mascara.

Blush.

Lip liner.

Lipstick.

Gloss.

Now what to wear? Decisions, decisions ...

Black holdup stockings, panties and bra.

Pop in the boobs.

Short black skirt. Black shirt.

New hair ... it arrived on Thursday. But it’s too warm ... the hair will have to wait.

Earrings. Watch. Bracelet.

Nail polish in a hurry is a risky thing to do. But I can think of a lot riskier things. So on it goes. Bright red. The left hand isn’t bad. The right one is a bit of a mess.

Everything seems too fluid in the heat. Eye liner and nail polish especially.

Now I have to waft my hands around and wait for it to dry a little. Wishing I had put my shoes on before I started the nails.

After a while I reach down and try to fit a shoe without taking too many risks with the nail polish.

In moments I am wishing I hadn’t put the bracelet on yet as it grazes softly along my leg ... leaving an unfriendly kind of line along my stocking.

But ... I did bring a spare pair. I take the bracelet off.

Skirt off and I manage to get the old stocking off and a new one on without doing anything terrible to my nails.

I know ... my perspective on life at this moment is rather oddball. But little things ...

Skirt on. Shoes on. Hair. As Nikki mentions ... the hair seems to have a mind of its own at times ... rather like a small furry rodent.

But it goes on.

I’m wondering if I should revert back to my other one ... but no ... I’ll get used to it.

We meet up with Laura and Dianne in the hotel bar.

Quite a sight if you were just passing through unawares. The most number of tgirls and transsexuals I’ve ever seen in one place at one time.

We sit and chat a little. A drink.

Laura decides to change while Nikki gets a bite to eat.

So many different people. Different looks. Different styles. Different hopes and fears.

It’s almost impossible to not look at some people and wonder ... is she a tgirl ... a ggirl ... a transsexual. None of this really matters – just labels. The atmosphere is one of acceptance. Can you guess?





Time to head across the road. We take the longer route to avoid the grassy ditch.

A few girls lean out of a hotel room window and wave. A guy calls out to us. Just friendly things.

I have 4.5 inch heels on ... so I’m glad there isn’t much traffic. I’d have hated to have to try to hurry across the road.

The cameras come out and we pose in front of the sign. Laura, me and Nikki.

Laura, me and Dianne.

I discover that walking down a fairly steep hill in high heels is trickier than it looks. In the end it feels like I am trying to crisscross a piste with skis on.

Then up the stairs ... pay at the desk ... and there we are.

There are three levels. Very loud music in the basement. Loud music on the first floor. Seats upstairs.

On BNO nights, so I’m told, the upper floor is mostly populated by the transgendered community. And so it was. A few drinks and a seat. We spend a while chatting and meet a few new people. It’s interesting, in an odd kind of way, working out which is the shortest dress of the night ... which is the most see-through.

The people though are just regular kind of folks ... in an irregular kind of way.

A trip to the ladies. Then down to the first floor.

There are a few people dancing. The music is loud.

After a few minutes L nudges me and nods to my side. I look round and a young lady is standing there ... mid twenties I guess. It’s not at all easy to hear anyone speak, but we manage. She’s travelled 3 hours to get here ... a friend’s birthday and they decided to drop by. Sarah. She’d decided to have a chat with a tgirl and I happened to be there. The kind of questions that I’ve been asked a few times now. And still I don’t know all that many answers. So nice to talk with though. And very sensitive ... interested but not wanting to intrude. She also says some nice things. That she thinks I look pretty ... and that the makeup is good ... not overdone. And here she is holding the camera ...

She heads back to her friends and I go to the dance floor. Not being a natural born jive bunny I stand and wiggle a little. Way too self conscious.

Back to the bar for a while. Then the dance floor. Perched on the edge of the pool table for a while.

The party of birthday girls is dancing. Handbags in a pile on the floor. A guy comes along with a mop and asks them to move the bags so he can clean up a spilled drink. They make the most of a photo opportunity and he seems to enjoy the experience.

A girl with blond hair is obviously feeling the heat and it takes her just a couple of seconds to take her shirt off. Nice black bra. None of us can remember the colour of the shirt that she was wearing. Ahhh ... now I have a photo just before the couple of seconds it took ... her shirt was black! There she is a little to the left of Laura.




The party girls are busy taking photos. Sarah takes a few of Nikki and me as we perch on the pool table. Asks if I’m on facebook ... but I’m not so I guess I’ll never see the pictures other than the mini versions at the back of the camera.

As she dances past a little later she takes my hand and we dance a little. Still self conscious, but very much enjoying the moment.

A little while later, another member of the birthday group walks over and draws me onto the dance floor. And now begins something totally new for me. Well .., I know ... the evening has been full of totally new things! She tells me to relax. Not to think about what I’m doing. Not to move my feet for a while. Just to sway and move. Then to watch her feet and do the same. Hands clapping together. She says such nice things, telling me I look great, to enjoy just being myself, to smile. And, for the first time that I remember, I am on a dance floor and not at all feeling self conscious or embarrassed or worried about what anyone else is feeling. As we sway and bounce around a bit, A walks past. This is a mistake ... our hands move out into the air, and all of a sudden, Dianne has no hair ... or at least quite a bit less than she had a few moments ago. My dance partner is so apologetic, and Dianne is wonderful. Not at all flustered, and smiling even. One of the nicest moments of the evening. Here are a few stills from some video footage.


My teacher and me ...









Laura dancing with Sarah.

My legs begin to show their age as time passes. And the heels don’t help to decrease the level of pain. I take a little break and then back onto the floor again for a while.

A lovely and liberating experience. I don’t know the name of my dance teacher ... but anyway ... thank you xxx.

Back to the bar for a while. I make the mistake of leaning just a little too far forwards. My bra is front fastening. And also it is front unfastening and has a mind of its own. Now, it’s one thing for a ggirl to have her bra come undone. But, when your boobs aren’t actually attached to your chest it’s a completely different experience. My second trip to the ladies, with my arms kind of pressed in towards me in an attempt to make sure I don’t lose any parts of my tgirl anatomy. I get there and back with no major mishaps. Though, at the top of the steps a security guard kind of waves at me. He points down towards my feet. There’s a trail of paper tissue following me, attached to the sole of my foot. I try to detach it by stepping on it ... but it sticks to my other foot. A couple of girls help out ... taking a-hold of me and stepping on the paper. After a few moments of playing footsie I’m free.

And there's the moment where a young guy wanders through the bar asking for a kiss from all the tgirls. So funny, but also kind of sweet.

The walk back to the hotel was nice and short – though the ditch was a challenge in heels.

Everything is a challenge in heels.

The foundation survived better than I expected. And, as ever, it was with a hint of melancholy that the makeup was removed.

So ... Andrea does like to dance, and even though my feet are a little on the sore side, I am smiling.