Sparkle 09 … The Dogs Bollocks

After the self defence meeting we meander back to the hotel.

A change of makeup and clothing.

Back to the park to see the awards … best outfit … style, deportment and personality … most convincing … miss congeniality … tranny of the year. Here are some of them:

 

Tina also has a chat with the guys that drove the Pink Punters bus from Milton Keynes to Manchester … at a maximum speed of 37 miles per hour. Very patient kinda guys I think.

Tina seems to know a lot about buses. Almost as much as I do about Star Trek and Babylon 5.

Smiling, we wander back towards canal street and spot Paula and a friend sitting  at a table outside one of the many bars. We stand and chat a while. Paula’s feet are sore … to be more precise … one foot is sore.

We then head along Canal Street in search of something to eat. In the General direction of Velvet where Billie and I had a really nice meal last year.

Glancing briefly at the menu we head inside. Down the steps.

“Mind the fish.”

Part way down the steps is a fish tank. You walk over the top of it. I guess the glass is pretty tough.

The place is busy, but there will be a table in 10 minutes or so.

Back upstairs to the bar. The alternative Miss Manchester is at Velvet tonight.

I wave to Cindy as we sit down with our drinks,

The man from the restaurant downstairs comes and collects us.

Walking to the table I almost trip over the step in the floor.

Walking a little further … looking down very carefully for steps … I bump my head on the shiny globe dangling from the ceiling. But quite gently. I smile at the irony.

The food is great.

The decor is different. There aren’t too many restaurants that I’ve been to that provide an ambience quite like this:

We enjoy the meal.

I don’t thing Tina has spotted the man in the background.

Top left … the globe that banged my head.

 

To the left and up a ways from where I am sitting … the right as in the picture … there are windows at about street level.

Tina notices people walking past with umbrellas raised.

The weather forecast had said it would happen … and now it is happening.

Being occasionally sensible girls we are prepared.

We head for street level thinking … everywhere will be full … and noisy … and without seats.

Two thoughts come to mind … Eden … and the pub at the end of Canal Street that we visited last year.

Eden … the barge outside has seats. But Tina notices that people there have umbrellas raised.

So we walk on towards the pub … The New Union Hotel.

We go in and …. there are seats … and it is noisy … but not deafeningly noisy.

I order a Carling (lager), Tina a lemonade.

We share a table with a guy that is already there, sit and talk and watch the world.

He’s drinking mild and black … Mild is an English beer … black is blackcurrant juice.

The Mild brings back memories of my youth. I always drank Bitter though.

Just to our right there is a machine with a punch ball hanging down from it.

A couple of guys with their girls drop their money into the slot and hit it … hard.

Sore knuckles with the occasional smile or grimace.

A group of eight or so girls sit at a group of tables to our left. Mostly with pints of lager. Their drinks, like ours, are in plastic “glasses” … maybe they should be called plastics rather than glasses?

After a few minutes another girl arrives … standing at the far end of the group of tables throws a handbag across the room. It lands on top of the plastic pint. The girl at the end of the table is showered in beer.

“Victoria … you f…. idiot!”

Tina and I sit there smiling. I can’t help but think that if it had been a group of guys, warfare would have broken out.

As it is, there is just a lot of laughing and swearing.

The girl behind Tina insists on pressing her boobs against another girls face every so often.

“She loves it really.” she winks.

“I’m at Linsey’s 18th birthday bash”. So pronounce a whole stream of t-shirts. The names on the backs are all kinda cute. Sitting here a week or so later trying to remember them isn’t easy. The one that springs to mind is “Sticky Vicky”. Tina and I eventually decided it was because Vicky is quite a tall girl.

They take a few punches at the punch ball. Makes us smile, One of the girls almost performs a somersault … slipping as she winds up to punch the thing.

Linsey arrives eventually but we don’t quite get a chance to say happy birthday.

A guy celebrating his 21st birthday sits beside use together with a few friends. He’s slipped and landed badly on his back and is in quite a bit of pain. Staff at the pub fill in forms and offer what help they can  and we talk with him a while.

A couple of other girls arrive.

One off the girls at the table is chatting with them.

After a few minutes the new girl takes out a stick of lipstick and is carefully applying it to the girl from the tables lips.

I’m looking on in a “watching the world go by” kinda way.

As the lipstick application finishes I can read the lips of the girl from the table.

She’s looking in my general direction and saying to the new girl something like “I think the lady in black over there would like some lipstick.”

And so … the new girl looks over … and then walks over … lipstick in hand.

She looks at me with a “Well … do you?” kind of look.

I nod … so she applies it.

What takes me minutes, takes her seconds.

Maybe if I wore it every day I’d get faster?

She stands back and smile ….

“Wow …. you look the f… dog’s bollocks you do”

The term dog’s bollocks is, in England at any rate, no bad thing.

I quote:

“Excellent - the absolute apex.”

I think she exaggerated … but it was a nice sentiment and I enjoyed the moment.

A little later I need the loo … bathroom.

I head for the ladies and there is a queue. The ladies in the queue don’t seem to mind.

I reach the front and head for a cubicle.

As I close the door I notice that inside the one cubicle there are two toilet pans facing each other.

The other one is vacant.

I smile. I am often reminded how different the girls world is from the guys.

Back at the table, Tina and I try a Guinness. Not bad.

Eventually we head back to the hotel. Pleasantly sleepy. The rain still falling.

Sparkle 09 … Please Miss …

Having settled in to the room the next couple of tasks are selecting what to wear and getting made up.

A smaller suitcase would have made selecting the clothes easier.

After a little humming and ahhing its a medium length denim skirt and a pink t-shirt.

Soon to be followed by a yellow dress that is a little on the short side.

Quite a lot on the short side. But it works with the denim skirt.

Then on goes the makeup.

Usual routine.

I opt for the Maybelline 18 hour lip stuff … a little more like paint than lipstick. But it does stay on and looks ok if it’s dabbed with the moisturiser that is provided with it.

Poor Tina. I still don’t break any speed records when it comes to applying makeup.

A look at the map to check where we are in relation to Canal Street and then we are off.

Right out of the hotel along Lower Moseley Street.

Right at Peter Street.

Left at Portland Street. We walk past the Premier Inn that has no power. It looks deserted and dark.

Right at Princess Street.

Left at Canal Street and into “the village.”

If Manchester were New York I suspect that a policeman or woman somewhere would have indicted us for jay walking. So many crossings showing red for pedestrians and yet with the traffic at a standstill as well.

As seems normal, no one seems to notice us much or to mind.

We head for the Rembrandt Hotel on the corner of Canal Street and Sackville Street where the Sparkle Welcome is at.

However, it is 5:45 pm and the Welcome ends at 6:00 pm.

There are purple Sparkle balloons at the door.

In we go.

But the place seems to be bereft of tgirls.

We order a couple of drinks at the bar.

“Are you going outside?”

“Yes …”

The drinks come in plastic containers.

We go outside and look around a while.

No obvious signs of a Welcome.

Later we discover we are actually not looking in quite the right place.

We dawdle along Canal Street, sipping and chatting.

“Please Miss”. I hear a voice.

“Can I go to the toilet?”

A rather sozzled (as a newt as the saying goes … a Google search for the term “as a newt” will give you the general idea of what I mean) young man is standing beside me.

“Of course you may” says Andrea. Somewhat confused.

“You look just like a teacher” says the newt.

Andrea thinks … “a pity I left my cane at home. My skirt must be way too long”.

The young man looks at Tina.

“And so do you.” he says.

We smile and chat a little.

And dawdle a little more quickly as we pass him.

Still, there are much worse things that a person could be mistake for than a schoolteacher.

Tina at the Rembrandt:

Miss Andrea near the Rembrandt. Complete with plastic container.

Walking along the street we meet a very colourfully clad girl at one of the many restaurants.

 

Wandering along we try phoning my daughter who is a student at Manchester University and Jay, a friend of Tina’s. The plan is to meet for dinner.

So … it’s back to the hotel for a change of clothing and to try to work out where we’ll all meet up.

Lipcote and topcoat

A couple of nights ago I thought I would practise lipstick. I keep meaning to practise makeup more.

The aim was to see how well lipcote works. The idea is … first the lipstick and then the lipcote. And then when you take a drink you don’t end up with a glass coated with lipstick and naked lips.

That was the theory at least.

In practice it didn’t quite work out that way.

First was the lipstick.

Then I fumbled around in the drawer. Of course … the exact word lipcote wasn’t running through … just the shape of the bottle and the word coat.

So … out it comes … topcoat … bottle is the right shape and the name sounds about right.

“Shake before use.”

I shake it.

The bottle, that is.

It reminds me of an observation that a lady work colleague once made. She thought that after filling a tank full of petrol, guys were much more likely to shake the nozzle after they have finished than girls were.

Then, the topcoat is applied to my lips.

Andrea thinks … “this tingles more than I remember it doing last time”.

Ten minutes later I place a glass to my lips and nothing much rubs off.

The next phase of the experiment is to try lip gloss as well. I have memories that it was the gloss that ruined the coating last time.

Looking for the gloss.

And … omg … I discover a bottle that says lipcote.

What did I put on my lips?

It takes only a few moments to discover that topcoat is a coating for nail polish. The bottle says nothing of this … but the smell is a giveaway.

I’m reminded of a story I read about a lady that accidentally super-glued her eyes shut after picking up the wrong tube of stuff for her eyes.

The thought that “it could be worse” passes through my mind.

All of a sudden I am thinking a lot more about how to get this stuff off rather than how well it stays on.

Makeup remover.

Cotton wool with a little nail polish remover … yuk … but it works.

Slowly.

Ah well … it could have been a lot worse.

Of lipstick and life

I have a makeover lesson booked at Charles Fox next Saturday. The web site says:

For many years now, FOX has been one of the premiere suppliers of make-up to the Tranny Community. Whether you need to create the look for an outrageous Drag-Queen or wish to blend happily into a crowd FOX has the right look for you.

For a relatively small fee, you will be taught all the tricks-of-the-trade by professional artists, experience a full makeover and get 10% discount off anything you wish to purchase in the shop that day

I have chatted with someone that gave it a try and they found it really helpful. So I'm expectant and hopeful. But also realistic. I think. I'm aiming more at the blending into the crowd look ... I think!

Maybe I'll get some hints on kiss proof lipstick. It's not the kissing I'm bothered about. It's just that the possibility of finishing a glass of wine with more of the lippy on my lips than on the glass would be kind of nice. Maybe also my wife would risk a kiss proof lipstick coated kiss. So OK ... I am bothered about the kisses as well.

My weekday lunchtime walk on Friday had me noticing all of the big fruit berries that are falling from bushes along the roadside at the moment. It seems to take so many berries to make a single bush. Got me to thinking again of how wasteful some processes seem to be.

Somehow, some convoluted chain of logic had me thinking about the entire meaning of life. There's a definition that I've heard that talks about being to Glorify God. Google provides lots of information on this. It goes something like:

It’s the stereotypical “deep” philosophical question. You’ve probably heard characters on TV shows ask it with the assumption that it cannot be answered. It’s the question, “What is the meaning of life?”

By God’s grace, the Reformed believer is not stumped by this question, for God’s Word has given us an answer for why we are here, and this answer is the first thing a child learns when receiving a Reformed education. So, to answer the question, “What is the meaning of life?” or, “Why are we here?” the response immediately comes: “To glorify God (1 Corinthians 10:31), and to enjoy Him for ever (Psalm 73:25-26).”

The above was taken from:

http://strangebaptistfire.com/2007/07/10/the-opposite-of-glorify-godlighten-up/

Once, not so very long ago, I would have sympathised with this view. Though I find it hard to believe that it really is the first thing a child learns when receiving a reformed education.

These days I don't see it that way. The reason is that either I've backslidden or I've become enlightened. Actually it's more that I just don't know. I mean I don't know about the meaning of life any more. Actually I don't know if I've backslidden or grown in enlightenment. Maybe a bit of both.

When I read the Bible verses quoted it seems that they aren't saying that the meaning or purpose is to glorify or enjoy God. They say people should do these things, sure. But they don't say it's the purpose or meaning of life. Well ... it depends on how you read it and the emphasis that you place on it and on the words around it.

That's the thing about the Bible I guess ... and all the different branches of Christianity that believe the same book but do different things. Each part deciding what emphasis to place on what parts. Which parts should be interpreted and understood literally ... and which parts need interpreting in a modern context.

Should Sabbaths be holy and work free?

Is the Sabbath on Sunday?

Is the virgin birth a critical concept?

Why was genocide OK in the Old Testament but it isn't now?

There is an interesting attempt to answer this from a group of Rational Christians at http://www.rationalchristianity.net/genocide.html. And yes, once I would have kind of agreed. But reading it now it just doesn't add up. I don't think that it ever did before really. I just went along with the philosophy of:

• God is good
• Everything that God does or says is good
• If God tells you to do something it must be good
• Even if it seems pretty bad
• But no way would God want people to kill people now ... even though at one time He certainly seemed OK with the idea

The Rational Christians say:

Can the genocide in the Old Testament (OT) be used to justify genocide or mass destruction today?

Genocide, murder or any killing that is not necessary to defend another person's life is not justified. God alone has the right to take human life in cases other than defense. The only reason the Israelites were right to destroy cities in the OT is because they received a clear, direct command from God to do so. Any reason short of that, including humans deciding on their own that God wants them to kill others, is not enough to justify it.

Rational? Reasoned? Well ... lets say that I grow more skeptical.

Why is it OK for a modern day Christian to have two coats whilst there are lots of people that have none?

Why is it wrong to be gay or lesbian?

It seems to be all a matter of interpretation. How people choose to understand what the Bible says ... or how they interpret the world around them.

Really I guess my problem isn't that people believe different things. It's that some people selectively believe things and then condemn other people that make a different set of selections. And sometimes they do this in the name of God.

I feel an Indigo Moment arriving.

Emily Saliers: http://www.lifeblood.net/songs/lyrics/deconstruction.html

we're sculpted from youth
the chipping away makes me weary
and as for the truth
it seems like we just pick a theory
ah it's the one that justifies
our daily lives
and backs us with quiver and arrows
to protect openings
cause when the warring begins
how quickly the wide open narrows

Maybe we all do it. Pick the theories and don't even notice it?

This has moved a long way from the meaning of life.

My thoughts as I walked down the path on Friday had me wondering about what the meaning of life is. Why am I here?

In the end I decided that meaning isn't just about being useful or fulfilling a purpose.

Once upon a time I did think along those kind of lines. That the meaning and reason for a things being was all tied up with its purpose and usefulness.

This takes me back to the berries on the pavement. The purpose of the berries is to make new bushes. But they don't ... well ... almost all of them don't. Only a tiny tiny, tiny number do. Maybe their purpose is to feed the birds? But mostly they don't do that either.

I thought of sperm as well ... so few of them do what they seem to have been designed to do.

And if people are designed with the purpose of glorifying and enjoying God. Why do so few achieve it?

In the end, and for the moment, I decided that if I need to know why I am here than the reason isn't to be found just in purposes, usefulness and function.

At the moment I feel that the main thing is for us to just be. And there is purpose in being. This is, maybe, what people refer to as a leap of faith. Why should there be a purpose in being? And the answer is ... I really don't know. It just helps me to get along.

Maybe the most useful philosophies and thoughts and feelings are the ones that help us get along.

Foxes, makeup and DVDs

In retrospect ...

I need makeup.

Having experienced it I know that I do.

But its complicated. I've chatted with tgirls on the web and looked at web sites that offer advice. Feels like it will take forever to learn how to do it all.

But I need to start somewhere.

Vicky at TVChix had mentioned Charles Fox in Covent Garden. I'd thought of Boots. "Might be a bit busy" said Vicky. And I need foundation that matches my skin colour.

So ... about 1:00pm I set off. catch a train into London ... tube ... then walk towards Covent garden.

Not sure what I'll say. But I decide that I'll just walk in and get it over with.

In through the door ... walk to the counter ... then ... somehow I manage to explain I'm a transvestite ... but new to it all. The girl I am talking to is maybe 20 ... no more than 25. Young enough to be my daughter. I explain I need to buy some makeup ... but I have no clue at all.

She asks me do I want liquid foundation or a stick. I know nothing. Whatever is easiest I say.

She shows me the samples. Explains I need to get something that matches my skin colouration. Gets a sponge ... asks if it's OK to put a little on my face. Looks at it in the light. Tries another shade. Asks a few other assistants in the shop ... which is best .. is it for the stage? No ... just to wear. Looking in the mirror.

Somehow in all of this I felt comfortable. People were coming in and out of the shop ... but it didn't bother me. I felt safe ... accepted.

We select a colour. What else do I want? Well ... what else do I need?

Blush. A blusher brush. Eye shadow ... two shades ... eye brushes ... mascara ... lipstick ... lip brush ... lip liner pencil ... eye liner pencil ... lip brush.

Not cheap ... but not so bad. And not frightening.

As I leave the shop she says to me ... "I hope everything works out OK."

Next stop is Transformation near Euston Station.

"Can I help?"
"Yes ... do you have any DVDs on applying makeup."
"Here they are ..."

A nice chat with the lady at the shop.

Home kind of late. Wife is fine about it. A bit bemused. But OK.

Now ... more brushes than I'd need to paint the house.

What do I do with it all?