Party on the Lawn 2010

Just in case you were wondering what Party on the Lawn was like … and if if you weren’t … here’s just a few snippets of video so you can get a tiny little flavour.  I did enjoy it a lot.

 

Graduations, cats and bags

Towards the end of January Katie, my younger daughter, graduated at Durham University. Sally and I … and Katie as well … enjoyed the day enormously.

There were occasional moments of drama.

Sally had just finished showering at the hotel … just after I had finished showering … when there was a knock at the door.

A maintenance man needed to get at the bathroom … downstairs was experiencing a bit of a flood.

In a way this wasn’t a big surprise. To get hot water the shower needed to be on full power. When it was on full power … well … there was a lot of water.

At the time both Sally and myself were … I was going to say scantily clad … but the word unclad is closer to the reality.

I wrapped a towel around my waist and let the man in to check out the bathroom.

It wasn’t until after he’d gone that I realised my toenails were a bright shiny red nail polish kind of colour.

Bill Bryson is the Chancellor at Durham University … and so Katie got to shake his hand and be congratulated by him. One of the new Graduates gave Bill a high five rather than a handshake.

In his speech Bill explained that sometimes he even got a hug or a kiss.

He joked that the most important thing that the new Graduates needed to do was to work out a way to actually beat Germany at football.

He lamented that we seem to not be able to plan for the future … even though the architects of Durham Cathedral, where the graduation ceremony takes place, had planned way ahead into the future … so long ago.

Of course, this is an over simplification. Katie and I talked about this later … and … unusually for us … actually had similar views and admitted it.

Needless to say, it was a very proud … in the nicest sense of the word … day.

In mid July Sarah … elder daughter … graduated at the University of Manchester. Just a few days after Sparkle … so it was another trip to North West England for me. Again the graduation was a very, very special occasion for us all. Another proud day.

We spent the night before the graduation with my brother and sister in law who live near Manchester.

It must have been about 2:00 am when we were well into a bottle of Bushmills Whiskey that my brother asked me about my fingernails.

Why are they so long?

Have I got nail polish on them?

Have I got to nails that are extremely long as well? In fact I don’t … but they do have red nail polish on.

“So … what is it all about?” he asks.

I’ve thought about this moment a lot. But haven’t rehearsed any answers.

“Do you really want to know?”

He says that he does.

I remind him of a trip that M (my sister in law) had made to Brighton with a friend a few years ago.

P (my brother) doesn’t remember.

M smiles … recollecting the conversation. They had ended up accidentally calling in at a bar where there was a singer that was a tranny. She doesn’t say anything, though.

Me and my brother head to the kitchen to get a glass of wine.

I look at him … and … a little hesitantly … say “I’m a transvestite.”

He is a little gobsmacked.

But not appalled.

The door opens … M is about to say g’night. But before she does … I tell her as well.

A little gobsmacked but not appalled.

Then M (P & M’s younger son) wanders in. I tell him.

“So?” he says. Not even a little gobsmacked and fine about it.

P & M haven’t worked out exactly what they feel about it all yet. They need some time. I don’t know if they’ll ever want to get to know Andrea. That’s up to them.

But it’s good to have been able to take the opportunity to tell them. And for them to be able to accept things … even if not able to embrace them.

We talked as little about things like … how long? Why? Who knows? Sparkle.

Next day we met up with them for a meal to celebrate Sarah’s graduation … no opportunity to talk further … but also no tension.

The cat, as they say, is getting more and more out of the bag.

Sparkle 2010 – Saturday

A thing I forgot to mention that happened on Friday afternoon as Tina and I were walking along Canal Street. A girl stopped and asked if I could help tie the shoulder strap of her dress together … her partner was standing there looking a little helpless … she said he was useless at that kind of thing. We talked a little while and the shoulder strap was fastened in almost no time.

It’s kind of nice how some girls just sort of accept us as girls.

10:00 am and time to get up.

Shave, shower, teeth, makeup and dress.

The plan is to breakfast at Weatherspoons – we just have to get there by mid day.

Laura and Billie say they’ll meet us in a while.

We’re just about finished eating when we discover that Billie and Laura maybe drank a little more than we thought last night.

Ring … ring.

“Hi Laura.”

“Hi Andrea. Err ... which way do you turn when you leave the hotel to get to Weatherspoons?”

“Turn right … walk a hundred yards or so and it’s on the right.”

“Oh … we went the wrong way. See you in a few minutes.”

Just a few minutes later they arrive. We head for the Arndale Centre to do a little shopping.

We wander around Primark a while. Then H & M.

Do you like the shades?

 

There’s a man walking from side to side across the paved area.

Bible in hand.

Reading.

Condemning all kinds of things.

The term Sodomite is included in what he is reading.

And he’s not saying anything nice.

At first I walk on by.

But I can’t go on just leaving what he is saying unchallenged.

I walk towards him … but his head is in his Bible so I don’t think he sees me coming.

I put my arm around his shoulders and say … “Brother … you are wrong.”

He’s a little surprised.

“Do you believe that God is Holy?” he asks me.

“If God is there … I think He loves people more than you give Him credit for.” I reply.

“But do you believe that God is Holy?”

I look, and feel, sad.

We only talk for a few moments.

I guess that to him, Andrea is just as much an abomination as as the sodomites that he has been reading about. Though he doesn’t say this, and he doesn’t look appalled.

There are people standing close by.

I ask if they agree with what he’s saying.

“Nooooooo they say.”

They say they find it difficult to see how God could cope with such people in Heaven.

To some extent I feel that I know where the preacher is coming from.

There was a time … a long time ago … when I stood in front of a microphone in the Town Hall Square in Rochdale and gave Bible Readings and little sermons.

The emphasis though was, I think, on God’s love rather than His judgement.

But I know that the preacher was doing what he thought was right.

I guess that he believes that TV’s, TS’s, gay people … the unconverted … are travelling along the wide road that leads to Hell and he wants to help rescue them.

He’s doing what he does because he cares.

But, I believe that the place that he is starting from is wrong.

And good intentions don’t make a thing right.

We passed by a little later and I took a few pictures. He smiled and said he hoped that I’d caught his good side. Actually, it’s hard to find a good side to what he was saying. There he is on the right.

 

I don’t feel angry at him … though I do feel sad.

I’m glad that not all Christians have the same overly narrow minded view of God. There are churches that accept Gay and transgendered folk.

In trying to work out what passage he was reading from I Googled around a little. There are a lot of people with views that are, to me at any rate, appalling. Truly appalling.

In a strange way, though, the event is somewhat liberating for me. I’m past the stage where I feel that as a transvestite I’m compelled to fade into the background. Little by little I’m gaining the confidence to just be myself … and … if need be … to assert to other people that I have the right to be myself.

Having said that … it was a safe kind of environment to do. He may have had problems with accepting gay people’s right to be gay … but he was hardly likely to start being abusive or violent. There are other places and times where it is better not to be noticed.

We pop into Evans … a girl wanders over to us and asks “Is Sparkle this weekend?”

Well … we certainly aren’t hoodwinking everyone into thinking we are girls.

But for me that’s ok … I’m not actually a girl ... I’m a transvestite and I’m ok with that.

We have a nice little chat with her.

Next stop is a cafe for a bite to eat for Laura (who had not had breakfast) and coffee, Sprite or water for the rest of us.

Tina is on the lookout for some perfume so we begin searching for a Boots store.

A girl walks towards us … “Hey girls …. you all look great!” she smiles.

It’s strange … how differently people react.

She tells us where to find Boots … just out the exit and across the street.

Inside the store, we are handed lots and lots and lots of samples by the girls on the cosmetics counters.

Slowly we meander back towards the Canal Street area and head for Sackville Gardens, where the afternoon show takes place.

We take a look around the various stalls. Several Police forces are represented:

A lady at an NHS (National Health Service) stall asks me if I’d mind answering a few questions. They’re collecting information about transgendered people’s experiences of the NHS. So I answer some questions.

Lots of people seem to be selling wigs. A few are selling boobs. Cosmetics. Clothing.

At one stall a girl says “We’ve changed the prices … everything is just £1. Well … everything apart from me. I’m 50 pence” she winks.

There’s music … January is the only non TG performer. Here she is with the Pink Punters bus in the background.

We head for Eden again … there it is in the background to the left, with Tina in the foreground.

 

And again, with Andrea in the foreground:

A few longboats sail down the canal … stopping to pass through the locks.

I just kind of rested up against a lock gate.

 

And then back to the park to watch the Tranny of the Year presentation.

And here you go … a bit of January singing and Tranny of the Year:

 

It’s a little curious that there is a sign at the entrance to Sackville Gardens explaining that you had better not drink alcohol in there.

Today, of course, as well as representatives from three police forces there is also a bar and the alcohol is flowing. But not much sign of anyone getting drunk.

Eventually Tina and I head for the hotel to get changed for the Sparkle Ball.

As we head in we meet Laura and Billie who are two hours early. They head for the bar. We head for the hotel room.

Everything gets renewed.

A little over an hour … well … quite a bit over an hour … later we head for the lift (elevator). and here I am.

 

And here’s Tina:

The receptionist telephones for a taxi … it’s not actually very far to where the Ball is … unless you have heels … then everywhere is very far.

The taxi arrives within a few minutes and here we are a little later:

And a passer by:

 

And eventually we head back towards Canal Street … rather slowly and carefully and call in at the Via bar for a couple of drinks.

And all to soon it’s time to wash the makeup off … sleep … and be a guy again.

I did enjoy the weekend a lot.

Roll on Sparkle 2011!

Sparkle 2010 – Friday Evening – Restaurants, Clubs and Pubs

The makeup is still intact from the afternoon, so only minor touch-ups are needed.

And a change of clothing.

Knock, knock.

Laura and Billie arrive and we head out.

It’s a short walk to the Red Chilli restaurant – highly recommended by my daughter, Sarah.

We take seats and browse through the menu. The food is great.

Tina and Billie:

Laura and myself:

Later we head along to a bar along Canal Street.

“A half of Fosters, please.” I say.

A pint of Fosters arrives.

Oh well. I can cope. The weather is hot, the beer is cold.

“Do you have a Crunch Card?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you have a Crunch Card?”

Having no idea what a Crunch Card is or why I might have one, I admit that I don’t have one.

“That’s £2.50 then please.”

“Here you go … you can use mine.” offers a guy standing close by.

After a short discussion I get to use the Crunch Card.

“That’s £2.00 then, please.”

I head outside to phone home.

“Where are you?” asks Sally.

I look around and see a sign … “The Crunch Bar on Canal Street” I say. The penny drops and in a moment of enlightenment I figure out what a Crunch Card is.

Next we head for Eden. Just a little way down the road from the Crunch Bar and across the other side of the Canal.

We discover that they even serve Black Sheep at Eden.

Black Sheep is actually a beer, rather than a troublesome kind of person.

But maybe they server troublesome Black Sheep as well.

Billie and Laura head out on a voyage of discovery whilst Tina and I deal with the Black Sheep. They say just cross the bridge, turn right and we’ll be in whatever bar is first on the left.

We set off in search … calling in every bar on the left.

Eventually I get my phone out.

“We’re at a bar called ….” says Laura.

“What?”

“…”

“Pardon?”

Eventually we manage to translate … the place is called Via.

We sit outside with a drink. You can see the Crunch Club in the background.

At about 11:00 pm we notice the tables and chairs disappearing around us.

“Sorry ladies … we need your furniture.”

It seems that after 11:00 pm there is no alcohol on the street.

We head inside and discover the Via bar is not all that it seems from the outside.

There are three bars, a dance floor and a whole mini labyrinth of interconnecting staircases and passageways. 

Like many of the bars on Canal Street, the Via bar looks as though it used to be a Cotton Mill at some point in its history.

The decor is quite quaint … parts of the furnishings looking as though they could once have been a part of a Church at some time or other.

We sit at a table beside a chair that looks like a min throne.

Here’s the chair.

Laura and myself …

 

And we all take a turn in the chair.

 

 

Time passes and we head for the Weatherspoons pub on Oxford Road … just round the corner from the hotel.

On the way there's a bar that

seems to have come up with an interesting mechanism for allowing people outside to smoke cigarettes and yet stop people passing by from sneaking inside. It’s a little like walking past a cage.

 

The inmates seem quite tame.

We’re the only trannie’s in Weatherspoons, but no one minds.

After a short while, a girl with her partner wanders over with two small bottles of perfume and asks us which we prefer … blue or yellow.

Laura tries the yellow:

 

And the blue:

 

And recovers:

 

Whilst Tina and I watch:

 

On the whole, the blue wins.

At 1:00 am it’s time to go.

A short walk back to the hotel.

Makeup removal.

Sleep.

Sparkle 2010 - Arriving

The weekend of July 9th, 10th and 11th was Sparkle (Sparkle). This is my third visit.

I arrived at Tina’s at about 08:45 on the Friday morning and we set of for Manchester pretty soon after that. Both in “male mode”.

As always, the amount of stuff packed for a mere two nights away could be viewed as being somewhat excessive. But you never know what you might need.

The traffic was pretty light and we arrived at the Premiere Inn on Portland Street at about 1:15. The girls working at the hotel reception asked about what had brought us to Manchester and we talked about Sparkle for a while. We promised to say hi on our way out later after we’d had a chance to get changed and made up.

We parked the cat in the NCP Car Park on Oxford Street assuming that we wouldn’t see it again until Sunday.

Stepping out of the lift (elevator) on the ground floor I realised I might get to see it a little sooner. The hotel key-card was sitting on the top of the dashboard still.

Eventually, back at the hotel we began to change.

I sent a text to Laura and Billie to say we’d arrived and which room we were in.

The usual make up and getting dressed routine. Complicated a little by the warm weather and the fact that the air cooling system wasn’t cooling the air very much. Foundation goes on a lot more easily without perspiration.

Tina was ready before me and set off to meet up with a friend that was staying at the Britannia Hotel a little way along Portland Street. We aimed to meet each other at the Rembrandt Hotel on Canal Street where the Welcome to Sparkle reception was taking place.

Eventually I was ready and set off … a wave towards reception and a short walk down Portland Street taking a right turn into Chorlton Street.

Most people don’t notice me at all. A few look at me a little, but pay no real attention.

As I reach Canal Street and think about whether to head left or right to get to The Rembrandt I see Tina and a couple of girls and I rediscover that it’s a right turn.

We chat and walk and arrive at the Rembrandt in just a few minutes.

Tina and I head upstairs, say hello and pick up a few leaflets.

It’s very hot up there so we head downstairs to buy a drink.

A girl  at the bar says she likes my perfume.

We head outside. There’s just one table free … with only a single chair.

I talk Tina into sitting down … and within a couple of minutes a guy from a nearby table spots that there is a spare chair and brings it over to me. It’s quite sweet sometimes …  the difference that wearing a dress can make. Here’s the view form where we are sitting.

And Tina …

 

And me …

Laura phones … she and Billie were delayed … but are almost here.

We head back to the hotel to get ready for the evening and to meet up with them.

Party on the Lawn and TV Evangelists

Last Saturday(June 19th) I went along to Party on the Lawn with Sally (wife) and Sarah (elder daughter).

A really nice day. Chris While and Julie Matthews were great … as were all the other folk that played.

Jim Crawford was especially good. Sarah said he was the only person that had her laughing at his jokes … they seemed unrehearsed. He made me smile when he introduced one song something like this …

“My next song was inspired by one of my pet hates … TV Evangelists … or … as we call them in our house … bastards.”

I’m sure that not all TV evangelists are. But the good natured way in which Jim said it made me smile.

He said his first ever gig was at an old people’s home in Rochdale … my home town … though Jim himself is from Bury.

A night on the town

Sally was away last Saturday so I took the opportunity to invite a few friends for a girls night out and a sleepover.

Sally was very sweet … I got home on Friday night to find that she’d sorted out the rooms for everyone.

I was all made up and ready by about 4:30 pm. Billie arrived soon after that. We sat in the garden with a glass of wine and chatted as we waited for the others to arrive.

Nikki arrived a little later than planned … unable to resist a little en-route shopping.

Laura arrived soon afterwards … having become snared up in Legoland traffic.

Laura and Billie in the garden …

 

And me and Billie:

Eventually everyone was ready …

Surreptitiously sneaking out to the car in the driveway is an impossibility when there are four of you.

Getting into the car was an exceedingly odd experience.

A small 2 door Nissan Micra and a gaggle of taller than average girls was bound to be a little different.

The way that Billie decided to get into the back seat was more than different.

Picture the scene.

The passenger door was open and the seat folded forwards.

And Billie makes an entrance … bottom first.

Nikki found it hard to believe.

I couldn’t see how it could possibly work.

Billie was sitting on the floor.

Nikki was giggling.

Me too.

Somehow though … Billie ended up sitting on the seat.

Quite a bit of squirming around I think.

There followed a short drive to the car park at the library.

I went to get a ticket from the machine … and so have no knowledge at all of how Billie managed to get out of the car.

The ticket was inexpensive … it’s free for Windsor residents after 7:00 pm.

The walk from the library car park, through the little alleyway to Peascod Street … then up towards Windsor Castle … along Thames Street towards the Central Station and to Cafe Rouge is uneventful. Though not without a little pain for those of us with higher heels.

A table for four.

The restaurant was fairly quiet … I guess a lot of people were watching England play the USA in the World Cup match.

No one pays us any undue attention.

Nikki manages to wangle a steak for the price of a chicken dish.

After paying the bill we head off back towards Peascod Street.

We pause to take a few pictures.

 

There is a sense in which Trannies out in the wild ought to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

There’s another sense in which this isn’t at all easy.

As we take the pictures people walking by can’t help but notice. After all … our voices are a little on the husky side. But no one minds or says anything.

We’re headed for the Crosses Corner pub.

Walking down Peascod Street we pass a group of girls … Filipino I think … who say hello. They’re headed to the Liquid nightclub. One has her shoes in her hand … sore feet … and is impressed at the height of Laura and Nikki’s heels and the fact that they are still walking on them.

As we reach the Crosses Corner … it looks a little more daunting than expected.

There’s quite a crowd of people outside … a lot of macho looking kinda guys.

We decide to give it a go anyway and walk through the throng towards the entrance. In as ladylike a manner as we can.

People are staring somewhat.

But no one is taking or giving offence.

We order some drinks … orange juice for me … the joy of driving … and sit down at a table.

After a little while the landlord comes to collect empty glasses.

I pass Billie’s glass … oops … it’s not quite empty.

I pass it back and genteelly slap my own wrist.

There’s a little debris on the table from previous occupants.

The landlord smiles and looks at Billie.

“Give me your nuts” he says.

We giggle … a husky kind of giggle … and pass the almost empty bag of peanuts.

It’s quite noisy … the aftermath of the World Cup match … with fairly loud music.

As we head towards the exit a cheer sounds. At first just a coiuple of voices and then most of the people in the pub.

Maybe the second loudest cheer of the evening … England perhaps got a louder one when they scored.

Someone assists Laura down the steps.

The cheer is … I think … good natured.

The atmosphere wasn’t entirely a “make yourself at home” kind of thing. But nor was it hostile.

Outside amongst the still quite large group of people we work out where to head next. No one is paying us any attention. Which is a good thing.

We head back up Peascod Street aiming vaguely for The King and Castle pub on Thames Street.

A group of guys walk past.

One of them wanders towards us.

He says something … but we’re not sure what it is.

He’s obviously had more alcohol than is good for a person and seems to be speaking in an Eastern European language.

He seems to be smiling though.

We continue walking slowly.

He continues walking alongside.

Back and forth … away a little and then back towards us.

We have no idea what he is saying. No real idea of his intentions.

Eventually … he walks right across in front of us … and towards Nikki ,,, blocking her path and saying something that makes no real sense. But it sounds somewhat unpleasant.

Confrontational.

I step between them … hoping that it will be interpreted as a … hey … let’s cool things down kind of thing … in a pleasant kind of manner.

The guy looks me in the eye …. and pushes his chest into me.

I’m not sure what he expects me to do at this point.

Two girls walking past come over towards us and say to him … “You know …. there are a couple of policemen headed this way …. you ought to calm down.”

He seems to speak quite well in English swear words.

“Wankers” … he says.

Actually … it is my firm belief that almost every male on the planet that has reached the age of puberty would have to plead guilty to this in their more honest moments. Even those of us that wear dresses from time to time.

I am pretty sure that the Eastern European gentleman falls into this category as much as I do.

He carries on swearing a while.

The girls re-emphasise the coming of the policemen.

After a few moments a friend of the guys takes a hold of his arm and pulls him away … offering apologies.

They head off up the street.

“Idiot.” say the girls.

"Are you ok?” they ask me.

I’m fine.

It’s strange. A first experience for me.

As Nikki mentions though … such big extremes in behaviour.

The total twateddness of a drunken man … and the sweetness of a couple of girls who could have just walked on down the street but actually took the trouble … and risk … of coming over and offering assistance.

There’s shouting from further along the street as our friend begins to verbally abuse other people that he is passing. It seems that it’s human beings that he has a problem with … not just trannies.

We decide to get to the King and Castle via King Edward Court rather than along Peascod Street.

And so … eventually … we arrive.

Nikki goes to order the drinks.

A girl walking by smiles at Laura and says “Ohhhh … I like your hair” and runs her fingers through it.

As she disappears into the distance Laura recovers from the surprise and thinks about the things she could have said.

Maybe I should have complimented her in some way. “You have great boobs …”. Well … then again … maybe not she smiles.

We sit on the terrace. People notice us. But it;s fine.

A man comes over and asks if we’d mind coming sitting with him and his friend. Just curious he says.

It’s not easy to be sure about people’s motives … but Billie goes along and sits and chats with them a while … and the buy a drink … and they really do just want to talk and ask questions.

The time comes to head back.

Nikki and Laura are walking a little ahead of me. I allow them to walk past the alleyway that leads back to the library and then call them back.

The main reason is that I spotted the guy that ducked into the alleyway to pee and though it would be better not to surprise him.

Billie gets into the car backwards again and before you know it we’re back home.

It takes Billie an age to get out of the car.

We talk. Drink. Listen to music. Compare breast sizes. In a bizarre few moments we try a breast exchange.

Nikki gives me a few pictures from previous Pink Punters evenings.

 

 

 

 

Nikki makes me smile as she tells us about the perils of printing photographs at Boots.

Eventually … it’s time to sleep.

A really enjoyable … though fraught in parts … evening.