Pink Punters

Saturday afternoon after the Windsor walkabout.

The doorbell chimes and Laura arrives, looking great as ever.

Sally arrives soon afterwards and expresses amazement at the size of the suitcase standing at the bottom of the stairs.

Andrea simp;y raise her hands in the air in a “what’s a girl to do” kind of way.

Laura and I head for the car and set off for Fenny Stratford … the home of Pink Punters.

The journey is pleasantly uneventful. Plenty of traffic but no delays.  Chatting and listening to music,

We arrive at the Campanile hotel just after 5:00 pm. The reception staff see lots of tgirls so there are no awkward looks and no embarrassment.

I spend the next quite a while removing makeup, shaving, reapplying makeup and dressing. Somehow I manage to put my thumb through a stocking as I’m putting it on.

We have dinner at the hotel. Three other tgirls are there as well.

Then a change in clothing and the short trip across the road.

As seems to be usual at 9:00pm things are quiet … people seem to arrive after 11:00.

Sitting at the bar, talking and sipping drinks, a girl says to us “y’know … if I were a guy I’d be the biggest trannie in the world”.

The evening … and early hours of the morning pass very nicely. It’s amazing how quickly. A little dancing, talking and a few pictures.

Laura:

And legs:

Me:

 

A couple of girls took this one:

The conversation is varied … even with a little politics and religion. Laura asks how it was that I got disconnected from the church and I try to explain.

We talk a little about the roads that led us to positions where we felt able to wear a dress and makeup in public. Places we buy clothes. Makeup choices.  Families. Friends. The way that different people react differently to the whole TV thing. The way that things … and opinions … and society change as time passes. Music. Star Trek.

After no time at all it’s 4:00 am. Crossing the road back to the hotel. Negotiating the grassy ditch. The man in the car.

A few hours sleep.

The journey home.

A lovely evening.

Windsor walkabout

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.

Prostitution, the BBC and the law

Today, as often I do, I listened to BBC Radio 4’s PM program whilst driving back from work.

The program is currently collecting suggestions for a “Listeners’ Opinion Poll”. People are being asked to suggest a question that could be included in an opinion poll.

Tonight a man was asking the question … “should prostitution in the UK be legalised?”

This made me think about the strange inconsistencies that exist within the law. About the things that are ok versus the things that are not ok versus the things that are maybe ok sometimes and maybe not ok at other times. About double standards and  double speak.

There is a perspective that says “all sex outside of marriage is wrong. People that are not married should not engage in any sexual activity”.

Once upon a time I subscribed to this view.

It is, I believe, a minority view in the UK and mostly associated with people that have religious convictions.

It follows naturally from this perspective that prostitution is wrong. It should be illegal.

But if sex outside of marriage is acceptable and legal, as it is, it seems to be illogical to brand all forms of prostitution as being illegal.

Of course, people use all kinds of non-religious arguments … sex slave trafficking, dehumanisation of women … and more.

But what of prostitutes that are not sex slaves and are not dehumanised?

To outlaw prostitution because, in some circumstances, it is used in a way that exploits people isn’t so different from saying that the sale of clothing should be outlawed because in some places the people that make clothing are exploited.

We could also ban the sale of coffee, tea, bananas, electrical goods … almost everything.

The difference is that to some people prostitution is  distasteful, it is  immoral and unethical. This is, I believe, the bottom line of the argument.

I guess a part of me wonders … what is it worse to do?

Manufacture cigarettes or work as a prostitute? Make nuclear weapons or work as a prostitute? Cheat on claiming parliamentary expenses or work as a prostitute? Tell lies or work as a prostitute? Lose billions of dollars of taxpayers money because of greed and financial malpractice or to work as a prostitute?

And the answer seems to boil down to initial perspectives. To some people prostitution is worse than all of the above because … well … because it is … because God says that it is.

As I have said before … almost anything is capable of being abused and misused.

I’m sure that prostitution is no different in this respect.

What I am pretty sure about is that outlawing prostitution isn’t the way to deal with sexual exploitation. The way to deal with it is to not tolerate sexual exploitation wherever it rears its head … within marriage .. outside of marriage … within prostitution … outside of it.

Bosoms and bras

Dani has glammed me up in the wedding and cocktail dress pictures as you can see below.

A lot less wrinkles, fuller lips, magnificent bosom, fuller lips, shiny tiara, spectacular eyebrows and shadow. I need to book an appointment! I’ll definitely try the darker shadow.

 

 

Quite a lot of colour added to this one. Lips, eyes and cheeks. I think I prefer the darker eyes, though.

 

Thank you Dani … I love them! There’s a link to Dani’s blog at the top of my list of Nice Places on the left.

Susan emailed me a few other pictures from last Thursday … so here goes:

 

 

And Susan Bunny taken on a completely different evening:

 

Very cute tail!

Most of Sunday was spent in London where my younger daughter was running in the marathon. I think I was more exhausted at the end of it than she was. She ran 26.2 miles in 4 hours and 20 seconds. We didn’t see much of her during the run, but she did great!

In the evening it was a night out at the Surrey Swans.

It was quite cute arriving there. The car park was full, so it meant parking at the side of the pub and walking round to the entrance. There was a guy sitting in a Landover in the car park … waiting for someone, I guess. He looked twice as I walked past, lol.

As always, it was great to see people. Most of the evening I chatted with Emma, Laura, Billie and Didi.

I won a handbag!

We’ve planned a trip to Pink Punters on May 9th, so I’m looking forwards to that already and thinking about what to wear. I think it will be the short black dress. But who knows!

Nikki can’t make it – but she sent me a cute email with details on experiences with the bra fitting service at Marks & Spencer’s. She is definitely a 36C, it seems. Maybe June 6th will work out for an additional trip.

Three weddings and a funeral

It was a long time coming, but at at last we got around to it on Thursday. It was back in May 2008 that Claire emailed me wondering if I and a few girls might like to spend an evening at the bridal shop where she works to try on a few dresses.

So, at long last, myself, Julia, Susan and Rosie paid them a visit.

I organised to leave work a little early, so at 4:15pm I set off for home with only minor tingles of nervousness. Strange the things that matter at times like these … still undecided as to what to wear.

Applying makeup gets easier with time … though there is still plenty of room for improvement.

In the end I wear a long black skirt … almost a leg longer than usual … and a black shirt. I have black stockings on but decide I should also take some white ones. And beige. I’m wearing sensible walking shoes (i.e. heels no more than an inch high). And put the new 4.5 inch heel white ones in a bag. My handbag is full of “just in case” kind of things like foundation, powder, lipstick and gloss.

The short walk from the front door to the car is much less nerve racking than it used to be. I’m still waiting for the day when a neighbour will coincidentally be walking by just as I head out. Or for someone to ask my wife who the strange blonde woman is that they see coming and going every so often.

For quite a while now these possibilities have been real … but I’m ok with them – if people ask then they ask, if they notice then they notice. Sally says that she doesn’t mind. I guess, I’m not trying to flaunt the Andrea that is me … but neither do I live in fear of her being discovered. However … there is still a nervousness.

Getting in the car I fight with the sat nav. In the end it sticks to the windscreen without any broken nails. It guides me along a route that I wouldn’t have chosen myself … but the 23 minute estimated journey time is pretty much correct. I pull into the car park at 7:10 or so.

It’s very quiet. A man in a yellow jacket wanders past and then back again.

The plan is to meet Claire at the car park entrance at 7:30 so she can drive us to the shop.

So I have some time on my hands.

I decide against going loitering around the car park entrance.

I mean.

You never know who you might meet at a place like that.

Almost anyone.

Even guys in dresses.

Or skirts.

Fairly soon a car comes through the barriers and I find myself waving to Julia.

I get out the car and walk over … then get into Julia’s car and we sit and talk a while. Neither of us thinking it’s a good plan to stand around the car park entrance.

A small group of kids on bikes wander past, but pay us no attention.

Susan and Rosie arrive pretty much exactly at 7:30.

We walk towards the car park entrance.

Hoping that Claire will be on time … I guess Claire was hoping that the girls would be on time.

And there she is. Being out numbered 3-2 (tg to gg) Claire had more to be nervous about than anyone. But she didn’t show any signs of it.

It’s really nice to meet.

Arriving at the shop Claire introduces us to Cat and, shortly after to Cheryl. All three lovely, helpful, wonderful.

Susan, myself and Julia are the first tgirls that Cheryl and Claire have knowingly met … I think Cat had met a few before.

We look at the dresses on the rails and the fun begins.

It’s another totally new experience for me. The freedom to try on dresses at a shop without having to worry about anything other than what size dress will fit.

I know … it’s not quite the same as a crowded shop during the middle of a shopping day.

But also, it’s not at all like being at home in the bedroom.

The girls make the tgirls feel totally relaxed and welcome.

I know that many people might think that the whole scene is totally bizarre, unreal. Abnormal even. But, to me at least, it didn’t feel that way at all.

First I try a blue cocktail dress. Of course, I needed help with the zipper. And also with some unfastened hooks at the back of the basque. I like the dress a lot … it’s a shame that the zipper won’t fasten.

Julia tries a wedding dress.

Susan a wedding dress.

And tiaras and veils.

And of course, some pictures.

The zipper is undone … but it doesn’t show. The hooks in the basque at least are all fastened – I think.

The evening progresses … and honestly … it was so much fun … with such nice people.

Zippers fastening and unfastening.

I change stockings and put the heels on for a while. But the heels come off as the feet get sore.

I didn’t know that there are wedding skirts. But now I do. Complete with a bodice.

Of course, I can’t do the lace at the back of the bodice so Cheryl begins to truss me up.

“Are you still breathing?”

“Can you speak?”

“Is Andrea turning blue yet?”

The lace is quite tight.

But I can breathe.

And it does hide the tummy bulge.

A glass of wine and some nibbles.

Cakes.

More dresses and pictures.

Very laid back … almost falling over?

These dresses are just the right length for someone that is a ittle over 6 feet tall.

Look – no shoes.

Cheers from Susan, Julia and Andrea.

Complete with headgear.

Almost like three weddings, but no one getting married.

Talking a while towards the end of the evening is really nice.

We talk about gender. TVs. Sexuality. Work. Partners. Families. Life. Self acceptance.

Rosie and Susan and Cat all think that Erotica is a good place to visit in London in November.

Claire, Cat and Cheryl are lovely people.

Thank you especially to Claire for having the initial idea and dropping me the email and organising everything.

We all had a great time and it was lovely to meet you all.

For me, things like this help me enormously in terms of building confidence. Little by little I feel less and less worried about Andrea in the real world as I get further and further out of the closet.

Several months ago when I mentioned the evening to a friend I remember that she said that if she wanted to try on dresses at a shop then she’d just go to the shop whenever it was open and try on the dresses.

For me, Thursday was a step along that road.

There won’t be a time when I am Andrea 100% of the time. Or at least made up and dressed as Andrea all the time.

Last night Cat said that she didn’t think there are just two opposite sexes … rather that many people are somewhere between the two extremes. And that the way that society bundles all the people that are born with penises into the “male” camp and everyone else into the “female” one doesn’t really accurately reflect how a lot of people really are.

The real me is somewhere between those two extremes. With no desire to move from the male extreme to the female one. More a need to be able to express the femininity without being made to feel shame or guilt.

So anyway … thank you again Claire … and Cheryl .. and Cat … you are all stars!!!

Friday was a different kind of day. Last week a friend died from cancer. He’d been ill a while ago. Had treatment and went into remission. Then … all of a sudden it was back. And in almost no time took him away.

The funeral was Friday morning. Relatives and close family friends.

In the afternoon there was a service to celebrate his life, which I got along to.

Before things started there was a slide show to watch and music to listen to … his life … family. Things to make a person smile or cry or both.

As the pictures changed, the Paul McCartney song Blackbird played.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Black bird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
all your life
you were only waiting for this moment to be free

Song lyrics are always open to interpretation and mean different things to different people.

At that moment, the words seemed appropriate.

The time there was tinged with sadness but also happy memories.

A man spoke about where we came from … why we are here … and where we are going.

But I was unconvinced.

The certainty of eternal life in Jesus.

Once I would have nodded in agreement.

These days I see mostly contradictions.

As seems to happen at all events like this, there is a sense of being in a time warp. Meeting up with people that you haven’t seen for so many years.

Almost everyone was a friend or acquaintance from my born again years. A place where Andrea could not be. Where men must be men. Women must be women. And everyone must be heterosexual.

I would like them all to know Andrea … to accept her as a part of me. But I think many of them could not bear it. And once a thing is told it cannot be untold.

All of them such nice people.

Yet some would almost see Andrea as a demon to be cast out from me.

And yet, people can be surprising at times.

The friend who died had strong beliefs … verging towards fundamentalist almost. And yet he could cope with people that saw things differently. Could see the funny side of almost everything … even sacred things. Maybe he would even have been able to smile at the concept of Andrea in a nice kind of way.

It’s strange how at times there are people that you have known quite well … and then drift away from … and then only realise that you’ll miss them once there is no chance to meet them again.

And oh … Elina … I hope you had a great time in Italy!

Friends, school uniforms and apprentices

Last night was a TV dinner at Billie and Kathie’s. And, as always, it was great. Lovely company and fantastic food.

It was really nice to meet Mandy and begin to get to know her a little. And nice also to meet Helen and her partner. And also to catch up with Billie, Kathie, Laura, Julia, Susan, Nikki, Tania, Katie & co. Katie is still one of the few TV (in more ways than one) celebrities that I know.

The food theme was traditional English … so last month I had made a connection with school dinners and suggested a schoolgirl theme.

Well some people have better memories than others … don’t we Susan … so there were just the two of us in school uniforms. Susan’s looked more authentic than mine though … the ones from Ann Summers are cute but do lack that sense of total realism somehow.

Towards the end of the evening I stood up to change seats and heard a voice … “hey … what’s that” …

Andrea: “What’s what?”

Billie: “That. What’s it say? Stand up a minute.”

Andrea stands up.

Billie: “Lift up your dress. What does it say?"

Andrea (who is much to shy to do such a thing): “Ask Katie … she knows.”

Of course, Katie had gone by then.

And how come Katie knows anyway?

The answer is back in  January.

A little later, feeling less shy … it says “Spank Me”.

Of course, it is Ann Summers fault. She makes the short dresses and prints the words on the panties.

No one spanked me.

The pictures here were actually taken at Trans Femme by Nik … but the uniform is the very one. And no, Nik didn’t spank me either :)

 

Tonight I watched the tail end of “The Apprentice” on TV. I think that what bothers me is that people can be such apparent sods to each other and not feel any sadness about it. Everything seems like competition. Nothing seems like co-operation. I know that there are difficult decisions that have to be made. And that sometimes you have to chose between what seems to be the lesser of the two evils. But is there no way to do this with dignity? Of the three that faced the prospect of the wagging finger that means “you’re fired” … there was no dignity. Apart, maybe, from the person that was fired.

I think maybe a lot of it is about being afraid. At least, when I’m afraid I am a sod.

It seems strange, I know … a guy that likes to dress in a skirt and wear makeup … talking about dignity. Where is the dignity in that?

The only answer that I have is that it is me being me. And in being me I don’t want to destroy other people.

In a way, in my heart I think it’s even stranger that society … and maybe even Sir Alan himself … seems happier to accept the kind of behaviour that people demonstrate to each other on The Apprentice as being normal and reasonable than they do the concept of men attempting to express aspects of femininity.

Humour, obsession and charity

A few days ago I came across this story http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1165892/Tory-councillors-gender-joke-led-dressing-police.html

According to the Daily Mail:

As the 50 members of the public at the police liaison meeting were handed their electronic handsets to take part in a survey, an official told them: 'Let's start with an easy question to get us going.

'Press A if you're male or B if you're female.'

But it seems nothing is ever that simple. Someone asked: 'What if you're transgendered?'

'You could press A and B together,' quipped Conservative councillor Jonathan Yardley.

…

A complaint was made  -  and as a result, he was spoken to by police for his ' homophobic' remark.

I have no way of knowing how complete a record of events this is.

My own reaction to Jonathan Yardley’s quip would have been to have smiled and pressed both buttons – though I suspect that the electronics wouldn’t have coped with it. I’m not at all sure how the remark could have been construed to be homophobic. But maybe the story is incomplete

I think that within the transgendered community there people who feel they are men trapped in women's bodies, women trapped in men's bodies and people who feel that they are somewhere in between.

Maybe most people are actually somewhere between?

Either way, maybe the options of button A, button B or button A + button B are adequate.

It seems a really strange kind of thing to have required police involvement.

 

I had a little think about the Sermon on the Mount … the bit that I quoted yesterday at least:

But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed ADULTERY with her in his heart. If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into HELL. 

What does it mean? I have the feeling that very few Christians take this at face value. Otherwise there’d be a lot more guys in churches with fewer than two eyes.

Is it meant to mean that anyone who looks at a girl and thinks … wow … she looks fit … has to make a choice between cutting out their right eye or going to hell? What about the left eye?

There are times, though, I can imagine, when a person can get very wrapped up in thoughts that are doing them no good at all. A kind of obsessiveness where the obsession is destructive. Obsessions are not usually good things.

In the end though I’m sure that thinking something is not the same as doing something. And i don’t think that was the idea that Jesus was trying to convey. Not at all.

 

There was a story on the news today that the government are planning to experiment in making grants to charities that involve themselves in political lobbying as part of what they do.

There was a guy defending the idea, and a lady that was saying how bad it was – that charities should be about providing aid to people in need and not involved in messing about with politics.

The guy convinced me – though I was maybe already convinced. If a charity is involved in helping people and it discovers some kind of injustice that is built into the way that society is structured – then surely the charity needs to get involved in trying to change the way that society works – and that probably involves politics. The people that are being helped by charities are often not in a position to be able to bring about the changes themselves.

The guy seemed ok with the concept that it is ok for the government to supply funding to organisations that actually challenge the government and press for change. I think that’s a nice thought.