This may be the last chance I get to blog ahead of Christmas.  It is easy to get out of the habit, but I have found it therapeutic in the past so one way or another I am sure I will continue.

It has been a strange year in some ways for Tina.  I guess I haven’t got out and about quite as much as in previous years, but managing maybe half a dozen major ones and one or two ‘odds and sods’.  As a reminder to myself, I have just looked through my photo albums. When your memory is as bad as mine you need photos to remind yourself and if you write a regular blog then so much the better, but on that score I have fallen down.  So New Year’s resolution, blog more often.

Anyway, lets see where I have been and what I have done.

• Just the one outing to Fabuliss in February and as I have mentioned, that sadly is no more;  and you can’t really count Linda’s funeral even though I was able to go as Tina.  At least it was an opportunity to remember Linda, be with the Fabuliss girls and at the Fabuliss location, but such a sad day.

• Just the one visit to Folkestone to see my friend Barbara ~ I must at the very least ring her to wish her a Merry Christmas.   It was January last year that I went down to see her. Perhaps I could do something this year to coincide with the January sales….but it is a long trip; we shall have to see.

• A couple of trips up to London, the first a fantastic outing with my wife and friend Penny to see Priscilla Queen of the Dessert.  I guess that was the highlight as it was a fantastic night out.  More recently we had a quieter occasion in London, when we just met some friends in Gordon’s Wine Bar and had a nice meal afterwards.  Always good to get up to London.  My wife and I will always stay up there, go up for Saturday lunchtime, which this time gave me the chance to dress and join the rest of the group late afternoon.  We usually stay at the Barbican Thistle, as in the past it has been a great place to return to at the end of your evening.  But this time they had close the main bar.  Big disappointment.

• Of course I should have managed two capital cities this year but having organised Paris in the Spring and having full permission for dressing on at least one full day in the 3 day break, I then ‘chickened out’ or at least didn’t take the opportunity that I was given.

• No Sparkle in Manchester this year.  I think after the previous 5 years it is getting a bit samey and its a long way to travel for an event.  Still it was always a good place to go to meet up with friends.  If you don’t have that, you need to create other events.

• Two trips to Brighton this year with a group of friends from Portsmouth.  The 1st one organised by Katie the firefighter.  The last one by Nena with quite a few others, like Rachel and Sophie Cockayne.  They are a group that see each other regularly but they are always keen to include anyone with a sense of fun on their outings.   By the time you include the odd local there are usually a dozen or so.  Again these are stay-away trips (both times without my wife Ann-Maria) but we had a really nice time.  A little shopping, some nice food, a few bars and some late night clubs.  I didn’t quite have my dancing shoes on this last time or maybe I’m getting too old for the heels I was wearing.  The trouble is you probably dress at 7 and can be out till 2 or 3.  I usually wear my comfy boots in such situations and wish I had again.  What I really need are some wide-fit, UK size 8 (continental 42),  3 inch heel (but with a pair of flexi slippers to pop into my bag for later.   Now that might be something for me to buy in the January sales!!  I reviewed the 1st Brighton trip here and Penny had an interesting story to tell of the 2nd trip here .

•  Aside from that, I’ve been down to Portsmouth for an hour or three in the Old Vic pub, once maybe twice, again to meet with the Pompey (Portsmouth) girls, but I don’t seem to have ventured out on my own as much as previous years.

Both Susan Miller and Shirley Anne   two of my favourite bloggers talk often on the importance of friends.  Without friends you would do nothing.  Fortunately I have my wife as my ‘best friend’ but I have made other good friends along the way of my Tina life.  You will have heard me often talk of Astrid and Davina and I am pleased to say we have an organised Christmas meal at a pub in Theale on Wednesday where I will see Davina along with around 50 other tgirls!!  Penny and Gabby are both lovely and it is good to see them maybe two or three times a year, but neither are quite on the doorstep and Penny does have problems getting her ‘girly pass’.  It does make me realise how lucky I am.  Of course there are those such as Gabby & Erin who are TS and now post-up, others that are part the way there and out to all, but the majority of those I know are just trannies/ occasional cross-dressers that need to organise time to be out.  And I guess going anywhere far afield takes a certain amount of organising.

Strangely, I do like to have a certain amount of time organised, and I used to love the monthly Fabuliss meetings, but it is also good to have impromptu, spur of the moment or last minute outings.  For that I’d probably be better off in Portsmouth, but we could definitely now do with something closer.  Maybe one day, Fabuliss will be reborn………now there is a thought.

I don’t hide this blog, so any that search for me may find it, but I no longer (via Facebook) publicise it to my friends so few that I know read it.  But to any that know me in the flesh, those that read me regularly as fellow bloggers or to the casual passer-by, may I wish you a great Christmas holiday (however you celebrate it) and Health and Happiness in 2012.

Hugs Tina x

(picture was from Brighton, by the way, in glorious pink 3d specs ~ well at least that is what I thought they were!)

I don’t think that Natasha would begrudge the fact that Linda was the driving force behind Fabuliss, but they both made it what it was.  Not only a safe haven for tranny tgirls to meet up in an area which is fairly short on such places, that is Liphook in Hampshire (we have Surrey Swans near Aldershot thanks historically to Billie Piper & wife Kathie, nothing in Guildford, the Mayflower Club offers various activities around Basingstoke,  otherwise you need to go 30 miles South to Portsmouth, Southampton and beyond or 30 miles North or East), but they made it into a destination for tgirls to meet up and talk, on a regular monthly basis, in a location namely the Millennium Hall in Liphook, that has a bar area as nice as any pub and a large auditorium that aside from our own functions fulfills the roll of anything from theatre/cinema to local school dances.

Linda used it for a variety of purposes, one of which was a trade fair offering the discerning tgirl everything she might want from corsets and wedding cakes (which she herself offered and below she is looking lovely in one of her own, showing off her lovely cakes) to wedding/prom dresses, lingerie to jewellery, wigs to boobs to the highest of high heels, make-up and dressing services.  You name it, Linda had contacted local and some far-off businesses to come and show their products with no guarantee of any great sales, but the trade fairs were repeated and many came back.  That was the drive of Linda.

Or she might organise a photo-shoot opportunity; or the local Police Liaison officer; or a dance with disco; or burlesque dancers; or magical singers; or most impressively of all she organised the fabulous Miss Fabuliss competition, giving the opportunity to 20+ girls to shunt their stuff, be interviewed. photographed and have genuinely wonderful experience (and not counting the prizes).  I tell you it the girls loved it.  I never participated but I am happy to say that with my wife Ann-Maria, we had the honour of being judges to the 2010 competition, which was a real highlight in my life.

And you always knew that approximately every other month we would have the ‘quiet’ chill-out evenings.  I think in honesty these were the favourites for the regulars.  It was like going to the pub and spending the evening chatting to a gang of your favourite ‘mates’ in this case ‘tgirls’.  We often had around 40-50 to these chill-out nights, perhaps a hard core of 20-30 that tried to make it every time, a few more that could make it less regularly and always a few new girls.   It was such a relaxed atmosphere that many girls came with their wives/ partners.  And I am pleased to say that my wife came on occasion with me and felt totally at ease.

We had 3 fabulous years of Fabuliss and for that I am grateful.  In that time Linda was always there for us as large as life; a welcome and a chat on the door; always happy to talk at length with new girls to put them at their ease, or to pose for photos with the regulars.  There was absolutely no profit to be made from us.  She just loved to be among us, to encourage us and to provide that ‘home-from-home’.

I have to say that throughout she was nobly supported (and more) by her husband Mark, who of course was the beautiful Natasha that we came to know and love.  Her efforts were also unstinting.  She always provided the perfect back-drop to the bar area or auditorium area, background (or disco) music and lighting to create the perfect ambience.   She also created a beautiful website which sadly is no more (such a shame!).  The two of them organised everything to the last detail, the email reminders, the sign-in book, the welcome, the bar and food, the entertainment, the raffle tickets.  Just thinking back on the number of raffle tickets I bought (£1 a ticket/ £5 a book), I just wonder at how often I won and was able to choose a really nice top or dress, let alone the make-up, perfume, choc or wine offers.  They were really well run……. and the beauty of all Fabuliss events, they were run profit free.  Any spare went into the next event.  You just knew, as with many people who contribute their time to such activities that they were only thinking of you.

Which I suppose brings me back to her sad death, far too young at the age of 60….  leaving behind a loving and grieving family, sons and daughters, grandchildren and more.  What can you say?  Why is it that someone who puts so much in to the world should be pulled out so totally before their time.

Linda died on 11 October and the remembrance service was at Chichester Crematorium on the 20th.  Typical to the last she had insisted that any tgirls she had met should be invited and if they were comfortable to appear dressed.  It was a lovely service.  Mark spoke beautifully about the love that had bound her together and mentioned many of his abiding memories.  A granddaughter spoke of her love and memories.  The congregation was let us say mixed.  There was the family old and young.  And we (t)girls, many with partners.  I shed quite a few tears that day and often think back to the qualities that she had.  I know Mark/ Natasha and the whole family are still coming to terms with their dreadful loss but I do feel she went not without creating some sparkle in this world.

After the service, we drove 20 miles back to the Millennium Hall, again her wishes;  around 25-30 of those that knew her from Fabuliss and of course the family.  You might think that an odd combination, but in reality there were totally no problems.  Some of us mixed, some stayed apart but either way no matter.  We were there to celebrate the life a very brave woman who had been a loving force to all her family and the driving force that had brought so many of the tgirls together.  She was a very special person and while I have written this from the Fabuliss perspective, I want also to re-iterate that the qualities she showed to us, were recognised and more in everything she did.

Linda, I remember you now.  I think I will remember you always for the positive influence that you had on my life.  May you rest in peace!

And in the special words of the remembrance service:  “To live on in the hearts of those you love, is not to die”

Hugs Tina xx

Just got back from a first walk with my first grandson Joshua.  Lovely.

My daughter is down for a few days, Wednesday to Saturday.  Last night we sat at the dinner table and chatted.  Tonight after our meal I asked if I could get the buggy out.

We are fortunate to live in a lovely area.  There are quite a lot of houses but the area is very hilly, every house every garden is different and we are surrounded on 3 sides by Ludshott Common.  Lovely walking, dog walking, horse riding country if you are into that.   I’ve often done the walk around the edge of our ‘estate’ and sometimes venturing on the common with my father and/or father in law or with Mac the dog when he visits.  It takes on new meaning with your grandson and reminded me greatly of early times with our own 3 kids.

I did the usual kept mostly to the tarmac roads, some of course are not maintained.  Skirting the ‘outside’ going in and out of every last cul-de-sac.  Touched onto the Common, over to Fairlands, back in abstract fashion, up and down in and out.  Close on a couple of hours.  A feeling of close companionship.  Communion with nature.

Josh and I had a chat for 10 minutes.  He then dropped off.  I spoke less to him after that but still enjoyed the odd word.  In many way it reminded me of the walks I have had in the past.  We enjoy looking at the houses and the gardens.  Some were quite exquisitely kept.  A source of great inspiration if I was a gardener, but I’m not.

But I did get the feeling of quiet solitude. Of pride at being with my grandson. Proud of my daughter his Mummy.   Pride of all parts of the family that have joined together at this happy time.  Thinking that Josh has 3 great grand parents on our side.  4 generations that may not last forever, but will bring a great deal of pleasure to my wife and I while we still have it.  And thought too for the missing Blanche, who I know would have doted on Josh.

At 7 weeks there doesn’t seem a lot that one can give.  Love.  A cuddle.  The odd offer of help if he is in need.  Nappy changing can come when needed, but taking him for a walk is the easiest of pleasures and gives his Mum a break.  I love it and although he is at the other end of the country I hope to get to do it often.  One day we can venture to the park or the pub, but where won’t matter.  It is just a question of who.  A very special who.

Special moments which I will enjoy while he is small, but hope to remember for ever more.

Is it just me?   I mean when you are so wrapped up in one activity that you determine the time to get up as the moment that your brain starts thinking about work, well that is how it has been.  My motto has been that if I’m thinking about work I might as well go there.  My office is only 10 minutes away and I have been there at 6 or 7 most mornings over the last few months more times than I can remember.  My ‘normal time to leave is between 6-7 in the evening, but often it has been much later.  Weekends too if nothing specific is booked.  Today is a ‘delightful’ exception which is why for the first time in a long time I have had time to even consider writing a blog.  It’s funny though, but the inspiration for this blog, came from the fact that I’ve some free loft insulation coming Tuesday and I had to clear the loft.  Mentally that was a ‘big task’ so I kept the today (Saturday) free and didn’t even consider going to the office.  Wow ~ luxury!

Well I awoke as usual around 6 and was up and about before 7.  I brought my wife some cereal and thought I ought to try on all the clothes that came for my birthday, which was a week and a half back.  Well at least so we knew they fit and the receipts could be thrown away.  3 short-sleeved shirts, a polo golf top, 2 pairs of golf trousers and some tailored shorts which I am expected to wear on holiday in September with all the family (some hope, with my knees?  Ok in a skirt, but shorts!!!!!!!!!  Yuk!).  As you may be able to tell, I don’t buy many clothes for myself!

Anyway that still left a skirt and girly top, birthday pressie from my wife, to try on but we will leave that for another occasion as we are both full of cold.

So anyway, Saturday morning, some jobs to do.  I decide to tackle the damp patches in our lounge…….it’s not bad but the paint has bubbled and it needed scraping.  Two paint colours needed to be found in the garage, a task in itself as I can never find the right tin.  You see I am a bit of a hoarder in more ways than one (see below!).  Never throw anything out, that’s me.  You never know when it might be useful or even if not, then it can provide a memory and when your memory is not good, I think you like the props that old stuff can provide.

So I knew I had the paint, but I had to open a dozen tins to find the two colours I needed.   At least now all the paint cans are all marked with a big painted X on the lid, so it should be easier next time!  Anyway, when I had eventually finished that task,  I tackled the loft.  Now we are fortunate to have quite a large home and the loft so I’m told is 50 sq metres.  Well I guess not much more than a 6th of that is boarded but it is amazing how much junk you can fit up there.  This should have been an opportunity to get it all down and throw most of it out!

There are 4 or 5 boxes and sundry bags of Christmas decoration which I will keep even though it is far too much.  There were 5 pairs of ski’s, a snowboard and several pairs of ski boots and couple of suitcases of ski clothes.  Sundry other suitcases, some full some not.  A tent and a rucksack that I took around Europe when I was 21!   Dozens of boxes of old school books, university books ~ mostly mine but some belong to the kids.  I don’t just mean the text books, I still have the exercise books full of my maths calculus and french and german translations of when I was in the 6th form 30 years ago………why why why?  I’ve boxes of Christmas cards/valentines cards. anniversary cards from 20/30 even more years ago.  Letters even from past girl friends.  I found my wife’s coming of age cards 18th and 21st from her parents!  A world cup souvenir edition from 1966 when I was 12 and England won it.  Old cups and silverware, nothing valuable.  Nostalgia, that’s all.

There was my wifes wedding dress and veil in a very old suitcase with rusted locks.  I brought it down and unfortunately the rust had got onto the dress which my wife is now trying to clean off.  There were other clothes and shoes of my wife’s, some in plastic bags, other in boxes so big I could barely lift.   I’m thinking I must have worn some of them, haha.  Now why didn’t I throw them away!!   I particularly remember a pair of shoes and some red boots, 3 sizes too small that I once squeezed into (after she had thrown away, I might add).  I know there is a locked LP case (remember those?) of old magazines, such as Forum where I first read of cross-dressing husbands and felt that well it might be rare, but I’m not the only one.

So going into the loft did bring back memories of Tina (along with a lot of other things!).

A lot of the stuff will get thrown now, but I will keep the old school books and the cards and letters for a bit longer.

I’m grateful that it gave me the impetus and I now have the time to write a few things here.

Yes it was a shame about Paris, but I had my chance and I guess I blew it, although it was a really great trip anyway.  We were only going from Saturday to Monday, driving through the Eurotunnel under the channel, then about 3 hours the other side to Paris.  My wife A-M and I had agreed that Tina could appear all day Sunday, which had seemed very reasonable as we wouldn’t be getting there till Saturday lunchtime and would be leaving on Monday.   But earlier in the week, I was tired and too lethargic to think about what clothes to take, and just to think exactly how we were going to do it.  Friday, I made the choice not to pack any clothes and dropped a note to our friends Astrid and Sandra that Tina wouldn’t be appearing.

We were staying right in the heart of Paris in the Rue De Rivoli, half a mile from Notre Dame in one direction, half a mile from the Louvre in another.  Our friend Astrid would be dressing anyway and did from Saturday evening and all day Sunday. In the end, it was boiling hot on the Sunday, so I may not have enjoyed it as I don’t really like the sun when wearing a wig….but Astrid managed OK and good for her.  Saturday night we had walked all around the Notre Dame and ate locally.   On Sunday, we did the Batobus on the River Seine up to the Eiffel Tower and on to the Trocadero and back down to some gardens.  In the evening, up to Montmartre where we ate and the Sacre Coeur, with a fantastic view over nighttime Paris.  Taxi back then a last drink or two at a bar close to the hotel.  Astrid enjoyed herself and maybe I would too.  But I think when you are exhausted you sometimes can’t cope with decisions outside the ‘main domain’ and I think it would just have been too much hassle.  So as I say Paris came and went but Tina didn’t go and really she hasn’t had a look in for as long as I can remember.  My choice.  C’est la vie.

You can’t do everything.  You have to make choices in life.  And you can have no regrets.

But I have managed to fit things in recent months besides work.  We’ve had friends come to stay.  We’ve been out for some nice meals.  I’ve been on a golfing holiday (another long weekend to France, near Le Touquet).  I got drenched one day and came back exhausted.  This was all about 2 weeks ago, which I think is why I have the cold now, which of course I passed on ~ so not popular on that front!

But over the last 6 weeks or so, I’ve also had two trips up to Shropshire to see my daughter and son-in-law.  Very important trips as they have given us our first grand-child, a bouncing, (do they really bounce?) bonny boy Joshua.  And very proud I have been too, to hold and snuggle a new-born, to be reminded of memories past of the births of our own 3 children.   The first time I held him he was just 8 hours old even though we are 3 hours away and again this week, I was able to manufacture a work trip and stay over.  Now 6 weeks old, eyes wide open this time, but still lovely to hold.  Wonderful memories to cherish and now we move on to another generation.  In September, ‘God Willing’ we will be going to Brittany (again in France, as you can tell I do like it), with FOUR generations of my family.  There will be 10 of us.  My wife and I, our 3 children, with partners/husband, + baby Josh and my favourite father-in-law Cyril, who continues to amaze at a very sprightly 86!

So not much time for Tina.  But heh, it’s not bothering me.  It’s not gone away.  Well, temporarily, the urge to dress and express myself may not be as strong as it has been at times.  But if you don’t have time then your life is full.  Having the work now, means my business will last for a few years yet, I hope not always at this pace, but it is what I want.  There will be other times for Tina.  And maybe Tina will have time to pass by with others once again, but for a while yet she will be a background secretive person, haha.  The pic was from 30 April at home, which I think is the last time I dressed!

Hope all is well in everyone’s world.

Hugs TinaCortina x

Actually my body needs that time also!  Since I spent a morning in the garden about 10 days ago, my back has not been at its best.  A 2-day business trip to Glasgow last week which started at 4am on Tuesday getting home at around 10pm on Wednesday did not help, and to make it worse my gums flared up and have been giving me gip ever since, only helped by a few anti-biotic pills I  found within the house, 5 fluxacillin left over from my wife, and 4 amoxicillin  have actually eased the swelling, but my daughter a nurse was furious I even considered taking them without a doctor’s or dentist visit. Over this last weekend we went up to Shropshire for parents birthdays and mothers day etc.  Around 400 miles, 2 evenings out and a rather poor game of golf has not helped, so I can’t wait to visit the chiropractor next Monday.  I’m hoping a dentist appointment can be deferred.  I never seem to see him without losing something dear to me!!

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This may explain why the previous Saturday given an opportunity to dress, I chose not to.  My youngest daughter is back with us for a few months so opportunities to dress are less frequent.  She was staying over at a friends so A-M, my wife suggested that I might enjoy a bath and subsequent evening at home as Tina.  Oft repeated in the past, I generally find these to be very pleasant evenings.  We usually have a nice meal (most often cooked by A-M, though just a couple of times she has coaxed out a few culinary skills from Tina or even shared some expertise in doing something together) and either time spent at the dining table, with music, sometimes a relaxing game of cards; or downstairs in our lounge (we have 3 levels at the back of our house) enjoying a girly film and a cuddle on the couch.

I hope too that at such times, my wife too enjoys the evening.  Not just because she knows that I am enjoying it, but because she is embracing me and everything that entails and perhaps rejoicing in some of the traits that she has known and loved about me (I hope) since we married so many years ago.

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I don’t think A-M wants the whole trip to be Tina oriented but it would have been nice to have had a full day out, especially as it is very unlikely that I will be going to SPARKLE in Manchester this year and when we were discussing it over the dinner table, the Paris trip was a bit of a ‘quid pro quo’ as A-M thought after 5 years she had had enough of Sparkle.  I am sure Astrid and I will manage to spend some time out……..there is all those lovely shops and I fancy the Eifel Tower too.  Thinking about it, I’ve done it loads of times in male mode so it would be kind of fun.  And I have done the London Eye as Tina so this would be a good time so see the sights of Paris en femme

I do like Citybreaks.  Actually I like shortbreaks full stop.  Over the years and especially since having my own business, which I seem to have moved away from traditional beach 2-week holidays in the Sun to lots of short ones.  Anywhere, any place.   I just like them.  Already this year we have done a 4 day ski-ing holiday over New Year, and a 3 day trip to Madrid.  I have to say Madrid was fabulous………  clear blue skies, 25 degrees C (mid seventies), just my temperature as I don’t like it too hot.  Well Madrid has a lot to offer; we managed the Prado museum and the Royal Palace, Parc Retiro and botanical gardens as well as lot of bars, squares and eateries.  Even managed an Irish Bar to watch Ireland thump us at Rugby.  And the traditional day on a turistico bus, and paella and tapas and the best steak we have ever eaten……my the list goes on.

That break was very much a P & A-M break, as there was just the two of us and we both loved it.   But in a different way, I will look forward to Paris.  It may just not know what has hit it!!

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Finally a thought for my friend Barbara who has needed a further operation and is in hospital recuperating.

If you have been, thanks for reading

TinaCortina x

It’s happened again, earthquake measuring 8.4 on the Richter scale (some reports 8.9) just off Japan & tsunami affecting practically all countries in the Pacific, with the one already hitting Japan over 4 metres (13 feet).  If it is 8.9, that puts it as one of the top six worst quakes in the last one hundred years.  Let us pray that the Tsunami is not as bad as the one that struck over Christmas 2004.

www.factmonster.com/ipka/A0763403.html

I don’t like the Daily Mail, but it appears to have a good summary of what is happening, with maps of the affected areas.

www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1365229/Japan-earthquake-Tsunami-washes-away-buildings-massive-8-9-quake.html

What a world we live in?  The people of Christchurch, New Zealand are just recovering from their second quake of the year.  We’ve had the flooding and the fires in Australia.

We’ve had some flooding in the UK, but nothing on the scale that appears to be commonplace elsewhere and we have a lot to be thankful for.

I just cannot imagine what it must be like to be hit by a tsunami.  A wall of water coming towards you that knocks down buildings, picks up boats and cars, trees…………I am not a religious person but terms like putting the fear of God into you spring to mind.  But then chances are if you see it, then you are not afraid for long.

I was writing to a Jehovah’s Witness for a while and of course she would point to this as more evidence that  the ‘end of the world is nigh’, quoting me that the number of wars and natural disasters has magnified over the last hundred or so years.  Of course you can always interpret things in different ways but Japan has had more quakes than any other country.  It seems it just happens to be on a very volatile faultline.  If it can be explained by science that is enough for me.

I can understand the need for religion in past centuries with ignorant people that had no way to explain such things, but all I can say is, if God does exist, then WHY?  What is the point of causing such calimity, death and destruction…………..

If a God does exist, he, she or it has a lot to answer for.

My thoughts to all who are suffering.

Hugs, Tina

I saw this article a couple of days ago.  It struck me it was a review of the Northern Irish equivalent of “Fabuliss”, which many of you know is my local meeting place for tgirls quite close to me.

I’ve not read a lot about the transgendered in Ireland, whether Eire or in the North.  I know a couple of girls that have been there on business who have been able to meet up with a few friendly faces, but somehow I can’t imagine Belfast or even Dublin to be especially accepting.  Steeped in its largely rural roots with a strong religious fervour whether catholic or protestant would not lend itself (I would have supposed) to acceptance of transvestite or transsexual expression ……so I was quite pleased to read a largely supportive article in the Irish Times (see below).  Contrast that with the tone of the Daily Mail article, (which I referred back to recently) when they sought only to sensationalise and ridicule Fabuliss and its organisers, and maybe Ireland is not quite as ‘backward’ as I’d thought. 

It would be interesting to get the take of any Irish girls out there.

I’ve travelled all over the emerald isle (albeit mainly on golf/ other sporting occasions) and always loved their hospitality, their music, their humour, (the Craic!), but I’ve never really discussed their attitudes to minority groups.   On their travels it seems everyone loves the Irish.  If one forgets for a moment the IRA and equivalent paramilitaries in the North and the civil strife that almost tore the country apart, one tends to think of the Irish as very easy-going and charming companions that would get on with anybody, yet the article below appears to hint that the transgendered need to meet in secret, that it would be a rarity to be able to just be out there in the street, to go to normal pubs, clubs and restaurants as one might do in London or (with care), most parts of England.

In following the link to the butterfly club (http://www.belfastbutterflyclub.co.uk/), I notice they don’t publish where they meet and the website (and their meetings) sound a bit old-fashioned,  a little like the Beaumont society, stuck in the 1970′s when there was nothing else….but in fairness, it has been going since 1991.  But it does sound like they could do with an injection of youth, and maybe the young tgirls themselves are a little more adventuresome.  Fabuliss has it’s fair share of ‘middle aged tranny’s'  but there is a good mix of ‘pretty young things’ as well, even if I am a bit old for that.  On the other hand, the Butterflys are sufficiently organised to be a charitable trust (rather like another group I hugely admire, the River City Gems in Sacramento, California) and have in the past if not currently, received substantial grants to provide support functions for the transgendered and their families and have even run conferences.

Anyway, the key thing was the tone of the article.  It seems pretty fair-minded and gave a platform for the girls there to talk a little about the why’s and wherefore of what they like to do.  So well done the Irish Times!

I give you the link to the article online, but knowing these links don’t last forever have reproduced the article below.

Have a great day

Hugs TinaCortina x

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http://www.irishtimes.com/newspaper/magazine/2011/0305/1224291099776.html

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BUTTERFLY CLUB : They use fake names, live in fear of being discovered and meet in secret, but Northern Ireland’s transvestite community have found a sanctuary in the Belfast Butterfly Club, writes Fionala Meredith

IT’S A FEW DAYS before Christmas, and at a small suburban social club near Belfast, preparations for a party are well under way. The mince pies are heating up in the oven, sausage rolls and salads are set out on the table, and the sparkling wine is open and ready to be poured. It’s a freezing night, and as members of the club arrive in their party gear – short silky skirts, spaghetti-strap tops, diamante-studded stilettos – they huddle up to the three-bar electric fire, trying to bring a little warmth to chilly fingers and toes. It’s a familiar scene in all but one respect. This is the Belfast Butterfly Club, and the party-goers are middle-aged men dressed in women’s clothes.

The Butterfly Club is a secret place, a private retreat where cross-dressers and others from the transgender spectrum can meet, talk and give each other support. Safe from sarcastic wolf-whistles, mocking comments or more serious abuse, they can – for a few hours every week – become their true selves, without shame, fear, pretence or guilt.

This is a rare glimpse into a hidden world. Linda and Aoife, two long-time members of the Butterfly Club, meet me at the bar of a nearby hotel, before bringing me to the club venue. They have already checked that the hotel is a safe place for them to appear “en femme”, or dressed as their female personas: such caution and watchfulness is a necessary part of their everyday life.

“The fact is that for every transsexual you see there are at least 100 transvestites you don’t,” says Linda, who is president of the club. “Almost all transvestites live in the closet. The vast majority are married with families, have good jobs and positions in society. They come from all walks of life: lawyers, policemen, doctors, teachers and politicians. When the army was on the streets, there were many from the military. There is a huge subculture. So many people are leading secret lives.”

It’s not surprising that the Butterfly Club, which was founded 20 years ago, feels the need for secrecy. As Trans Media Watch, an organisation which aims to raise awareness of the treatment of transgender people, points out, “people think we are child-molesting perverts, or pantomime dames – figures to ridicule, to be pointed out and laughed at, regardless of our feelings.” Linda believes that transvestites “have tended to end up on the cutting-room floor of life rather than in the winners’ enclosure during Ladies’ Day at Ascot.”

Tyres slashed, stones thrown, insults yelled – the Butterfly Club members have plenty of stories to tell. In 1998, four club members were refused admission to the recently opened Hilton Hotel in Belfast. Linda says it was her first real experience of “naked, undiluted prejudice”.

Linda describes another incident, which occurred just after she had been to see the Terry Johnson play, Hitchcock Blonde, in London. A group of young Italian men called out to her as she left the theatre. Linda was wearing a blonde wig, a low-cut black evening dress slit to the thigh, and a pair of green snakeskin high-heeled sandals.

“One of them had a small video camera trained on me and the others were shouting and smiling at me – ‘ bella, bella , oh, Diana’ they were yelling.” Linda quickly realised that the cries of “bella, bella” were not meant to be taken literally. “Like Hitchcock’s blonde heroines, I had become a victim of my own fragility, except instead of getting a knife in the shower from someone dressed as their mother I had been metaphorically perforated by the pizza boy for trying to look like somebody’s teenage daughter. Oh well, some you win and some you lose.”

Self-aware, stoical and wryly humorous, Linda refuses to be fazed by public ignorance. And she’s keen to emphasise that hostility or ridicule is only one side of the picture when out and about “en femme”.

“Sometimes you get compliments. Doors are held open for you, people chat to you in lifts and in restaurants, and women often smile at you.”

Michelle, a member who is married but who keeps her cross-dressing a closely guarded secret from her wife, family and work colleagues, says: “I am ecstatic when a real woman takes the time to compliment me on my female appearance. At this point I feel I am approaching getting things right, if not necessarily passing. For me the ultimate goal would be to pass, but I will willingly settle for ‘is she or isn’t she?’ ”

Passing – convincing strangers that they are genuine women – is the holy grail for these men. They study the looks and behaviour of “real girls”, or RGs as they call them, with forensic intensity. Talking is of particular concern, with some refusing to speak at all when in public, for fear of their gruff tones exposing them.

Michelle warns that “walking like you just stepped off a horse, or with a normal male gait, will give you away immediately”. But Michelle says that the real clincher is something more nebulous: confidence. “If you feel confident in the person you have created and comfortable with her, you should have a fighting chance of passing in public. But there are occasions when I have to admit to myself that I just don’t cut it. Some small flaw in my appearance will sap my confidence and all I can see is ‘a bloke in a dress’. My experiences of venturing out into the public as Michelle have been very limited to date and this is ultimately all to do with my own confidence.”

Growing older as a transvestite brings its own challenges. As the Turner Prize-winning artist and well-known cross-dresser Grayson Perry recently noted, for a transvestite, “getting old can be quite traumatic. When you’re really young there’s a certain androgyny about your teenage years so you can get away with looking pretty. Then you become more square-jawed and bolder and you don’t look so pretty in a frock any more.”

The men speak with wistful admiration of Thai ladyboys, envying them their delicate build and petite features.

“I want to be so good that no one would ever notice,” says Alice, who only came out to her family recently, after 25 years of guilt, anxiety and confusion. “I don’t want to look like a freak. But when it comes to passing, my height and build go against me, I know that.”

Tonight, Alice is wearing a dress bought for her by her mother. It’s a small but vital sign of acceptance: many transvestites never feel able to come out to their family, with some only emerging after their parents’ death. It’s not a coincidence that most of the calls to the club’s helpline come from “public phone boxes in the middle of nowhere”, as Michelle puts it, so great is the perceived need for secrecy. The caller is likely to have taken months or even years working up the courage to ring.

With luck, self-education and support, many transvestites eventually find comfort in their own identity. But it is a long, hard road. For most, the familiar feeling of disquiet at doing something transgressive and socially outlawed has been there from their earliest days, when they first started dressing up in their mothers’ clothes. “I knew instinctively that this shouldn’t happen, that people shouldn’t do it, and if they did, they hid it in order to avoid ridicule,” says Linda, who started cross-dressing aged 11.

Although not especially religious, Alice says she felt she was doing something “morally wrong”. “I remember the first person I ever told,” she says. “It was at primary school, and we were in the cloakroom, and I just blurted out ‘I wish I was a girl’. I didn’t mention it again until I was in my teens, and it took me another 25 years to come to terms with it.”

All the men speak of the thrill it gives them to dress in women’s clothes. Linda describes the early days of rushing home from work, knowing what was awaiting her. “As soon as I got in the door, I would dress, and then I would stay that way all evening. It felt brilliant.”

Michelle speaks of an “overwhelming feeling of well-being”. “It is a need to find out how it feels to walk in those heels; what it is like to wear a skirt or dress, the feel of stockings, the look of make-up and jewellery. Just to be a woman for a brief period.”

Aoife says simply, “I feel liberated, natural, truly myself – the way I want to be.” She believes that the clothes that transvestites choose to dress in reflect the style of the era in which they grew up. “It’s as though we’re trying to live the years we didn’t have.”

But purging – where transvestites gather up all their female clothes and destroy them, determined to leave their cross-dressing lives behind – is a common pattern too.

“During my 20s, when I met my wife, I told myself that it was just a wee phase, but it comes back to haunt you,” says Michelle. “I finally realised that it’s something you can’t walk away from.”

Aoife suffered years of depression and despair, even contemplating suicide at times. “My wife worked nights, and I would dress when the kids were asleep. But I went through awful guilt. I would put the clothes on, then take them off again straight away. It was such a release, being myself, but there was always the fear that the kids would find out. And no matter how many times you purged, it would always come back. It’s like telling someone who’s gay that ‘tomorrow you have to be heterosexual’.”

One of the most common erroneous assumptions is that transvestites are gay. But many of the club members are straight men who are happily married. Even those who are single have little or no intention of “transitioning” – fully changing from one gender to the other. Linda says that the effort of being constantly female would leave her “shattered”, and besides, she enjoys the male side of her life, such as playing sport.

Aoife is unusual: she eventually told her wife about her transvestism. “I couldn’t hold it in any longer. After I told her, I wanted to take it too fast. I had had a lifetime to contend with this, and my wife had only had a day or so. It was unfair to expect too much of her. But for her to accept it the way she does – she’s a wonderful woman. The first time I put female clothes on for her, she looked at my feet and said, ‘Those shoes are too tight. We’ll go and get you some new ones in the morning.’ ”

Linda wishes that the wives of transvestites could realise that their husband is still the same man they married. “All that changes is that he reveals to the world the softer underbelly of his character which lies beneath the crusty masculine shell, the shell they had already seen through anyway when they chose to marry him.”

Club members spend very little time agonising over the causes of their transvestism, or seeking to change it. “I don’t want psychotherapy,” says Michelle. “I know enough to be certain that I’m not going to cure this. Once you become comfortable with the idea that this is just me, things become a lot easier. It’s about acceptance.”

There’s nothing sleazy or threatening about the Belfast Butterfly Club. As they say themselves, they want it to be the kind of place you could take your maiden aunt to, and it is. Their motto – suaviter in modo (pleasant in manner) – suits this group of gentle, courteous people right down to the ground. As I close the door behind me, I’m reminded of the lines from Gerard Manley Hopkins in praise of “all things counter, original, spare, strange”. It’s good to know that there’s at least one place for them that feels like home.

I doubt anyone will notice it, but I dropped the Facebook link in my last blog.  I have been wrestling with the idea of taking my blog private, such as one can, even changing the url which you can do in WordPress which might make it harder to find.

I guess these thoughts appeared around the time I found out that my girls knew about Tina.  I quickly dismissed them then as if the girls had wanted to, they might have been reading every blog since the start ~ though I do rather doubt that.  It’s not that I am in any way ashamed of what I write (or who I am) but I do sometimes wonder whether the content of the blog is changed by my awareness of who is reading it.

Of course when you start, the blog is very personal, expressing innermost thoughts like a diary and indeed although I’ve never posted very often, I am pleased that I have kept my blog up for almost 5 years as a record of my thoughts, trips and outings over that period.  Something to look back on perhaps when I am old and decrepit, if I’m not already.  But once you seek an audience and that happened very early on with the use of tags and ‘friends’ in Yahoo360, then a part of you is wanting to interact with others.  WordPress has taken that a stage further, by introducing stats, by giving us the means to publicise on f/b and the rest and of course your every blog can be found on a google search,  you only need a name.  Up to now I have sought ‘publicity’ by linking to Flickr, Flickriver, by including my blog url on all email correspondence and more recently on most comments I make on other people’s blogs.

So is this what I want?  How would I feel if no-one ever came and it was purely for myself?

Do I crave the surges in readership that appear when I post a blog.    How would I feel if I was ever featured on ‘Freshly Pressed’ (some hope!).  Is it numbers I want?  Numbers mean nothing anyway as many will just find you by accident, reach your home page and leave within seconds.  Oh and as an aside, if you want numbers just include a celebrity name in your blog and see the numbers increase.  I mentioned Will Y the pop singer in my last blog and even though I didn’t tag his name about a quarter of referrals the next day came from a Will Y forum.

Is it quality of readership I want?   I have a few that are subscribed to this blog (and you know who you are!) but even then the only feedback I get as to whether anyone has read one of my blogs, especially to the end (and I do realise I go on somewhat)  are the comments if any, and then the quality of comments, especially those that make several references to different parts of the blog content.

To the loyal few thank you.  I am not bemoaning lack of readers or quality of readers, but questioning the way in which I should publicise my blog if at all.

How do I feel about having people I know read my blog?

I find that quite difficult.  In the past I would often go to an event, swop photos via email and then say if you want to, feel free to follow the link and read my blog.  Not many did, or at least not many have done and ever posted a comment or ever mentioned it.  Most just don’t want to be that introspective about such things.  There aren’t many that write blogs and (on a relative scale) there aren’t many that want to read blogs.  Most are already planning the next event and often attention spans don’t go beyond looking at a few photos, the odd comment on Facebook and of course I do recognise that everyone is different.  Nothing wrong with that.

Some of the photos on Flickr point to this blog.  So if I put up new photos, then some might follow it.  And similarly, over the last 6 months a WordPress feature allows my Facebook friends to see a preview,  with a link to any new blogs.

But I do wonder.  My last blog was quite personal in a way.  It mentioned specific people. And I guess in passing, I pass comments on them.  As it happens nothing especially detrimental, but is that the point?

I have around 100 ‘friends’ on Facebook, maybe I know (ie have met) 30-40.  The percentage is probably lower on Flickr where I do quite often accept transatlantic friends or anyone that has ‘nice pics’ and is prepared occasionally to pass comment.

I don’t worry about the people I don’t know reading my blog.  I do sometimes think about those I do know that might read my blog.

Not that I mind them reading, but I am concerned as to whether it affects what I write.  Will I shy away from revealing personal self-analysis?  Will I temper my comments for people who know me?   They say a diary should be private so that you can say exactly what you want.  Does this apply to a blog?  Have I already changed what I might write, knowing some of the people who might read it.  To be honest, I don’t know………possibly yes to a limited extent.  But I am worried it might take over anything I write.

So to finish, and just for the hell of it ~ I haven’t used these poll thingy’s in an age.  So for anyone that has got this far, please vote………..as as always feel free to pass comment.  You are most welcome!

Should a blog such as this be written ……?

Hugs
Tina xx
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Anyone remember the band ’10 years after’?  Now that’s a different story and it shows my age!  Well this is only ’10 days after’ I did the Brighton trip, but it’s been a while.  It’s not always possible to blog straight away and then you get wrapped up in work.  Still it does give you the advantage of perspective, looking back at what was important to you.   Actually there are a number of issues that came up, but I think I will deal with this over several blogs.

So it was a Saturday 10 days ago.  There were about 20 of us descending on Brighton from different parts of the country.  Most from the Portsmouth/ Southampton area, a few from London, a few even from Cambridge.  The whole thing was coordinated by Katie Jordan who is a bit of a star.  These trips now seem to be every few months, but I noticed the last one I had been on ‘with the gang’ was back in May 2009!!

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Back to Saturday morning.  I was having work done in the garden erecting a shed, so it made sense for me to leave well before 10, even though I wasn’t planning on being in Brighton before about 2:30.  My wife doesn’t mind me leaving the house dressed as we are largely un-overlooked but she likes me to be discrete and certainly didn’t want the danger of me bumping into the lad who was doing the work for us.  Anyway, I guess I was 90 minutes getting ready and all packed, and just as I was preparing to leave, a car arrived in our lay-by.  “Richard’s here “- I whispered to my wife, who was lying in bed, “you will have to divert him in the back garden, while I leave out of the front door”  As it happens it wasn’t him, but A-M was not happy being startled so.  And I think the whole thing of me getting ready even though I had put out as much as I could the night before, had ruined her lay-in.

Anyway, I left in jeans and smock (as per last blog) and knew I had about 5 hours to kill on what was really only a 1 1/2 hour journey.  So I spent an hour in an Asda Wal-Mart, then drifted down to the coast via Chichester and Bognor.  Then taking in various stoney beaches along the way (boots off, pumps on for a walk along the beach).  I ended up taking the coastal road through Littlehampton, Worthing and Shoreham, then on to Hove and Brighton, places I hadn’t been to in years.  I stopped for petrol and a quick snack as I said I got out a couple of times, but I seemed to fill the time meandering along to Brighton and by the time I had found a car park to the Jury’s Inn Hotel in Brighton and walked up the rather steep hill, it was 2:30pm.   I was just in time to meet up with about half the gang who were checking in, mostly in bloke mode.

Well actually Sophie Cockayne is a gg and she was to be my roomie so we took 15 mins to freshen up and unpack the cases.  There was a double and a single.  And she knew Emma who was also sharing (and a gg) so that was one possible conflict overcome.  Sophie is a bright bubbly bundle of fun.  We had met once at Georgia and Nena’s BBQ last year and she remembered me as well as my wife because she had exploded a can of beer over her!!  Oh well, that was one for later!

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For those that don’t know, Brighton is on a hill and we were on the top of it and needed to get down to the coast, well Charles Street pub is very close to the pier.  The idea was that we would meet others and get more food, so changing back to pumps (very astute), we walked down through the lanes which is always good fun.  Lots going on, very busy, buskers, street jugglers, lots of small shops. I was the only girl dressed, but that didn’t matter.  Later more joined us in the bar, two young girls 21 and 19 who I believe only recently discovered they were gay.  Sophie Hants in male mode, but with son and daughter in their twenties.

We were to return here at the start of the evening when there would be the full complement, which included several other gay couples, the tgirls I had mostly met before and a couple of guys we tried to hook up together.  I guess we were in Brighton gay capital of the world and going to gay bars and clubs, so it was no surprise that we had such a mixed complement.   And that just added to the fun of it.

So far as I know, my roommates were straight, but I know Sophie was just out of a relationship with a tgirl, so whatever.  We were clearly a mixed bag of straight and gay, male and female and at different ends of the transgendered spectrum.  It matters not a jot, but I mention it to give you an idea of the cosmopolitan flavour of the group.

As I was sharing with 2 others, I was glad to have travelled en femme, as although I needed to clean up and add to how I was looking make-up wise, it didn’t take too long and fortunately the room had lots of large mirrors a pre-requisite fo the tranny.  Well my outfit I won’t describe (as there is a pic above!) and of course I changed my hair ~ day-time short to evening long!  We 3 girls all took pics in pairs to remind ourselves how good we looked before we got wrecked (more pics on Facebook).  A quick drink downstairs before a cab, well 4 cabs I think, back to the Charles St bar.

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It’s a very lively place in the evening.  We grabbed maybe 8 seats around a round table and, for the rest of the time spent there, rotated those who were sitting with those who were standing.  When you are in heels you cannot stand all night, unless you get a lot of practice!  Drinks are pub prices.  I had had a couple of Southern Comfort looseners back in the room, but otherwise had been drinking non-alcoholic J2O since.  For the evening, I mainly drank Smirnoff Ice or Wicked.  The virtue of alcopops is that they are relatively low in alcohol, so each one is rather like half a bitter, and Tina certainly doesn’t drink that.

It was good to have a place to catch up for chat.  I hadn’t really spoken to Katie, Georgia, Nena or Rachel in an age and they are all such different personalities.  Katie, a firefighter, had recently told half the fire crew and the other half were to find out the next week as Katie had gone public in an interview in the firefighters’ internal gazette.  Very brave.  But it’s all about respect.  And I think that if you have the respect of your colleagues in life-and-death situations then surely they won’t lose respect because you come out as a t-girl.  And I gather the reaction from the first half of the lads had been very good.   Katie is 100% hetro and I hope someday she finds a gg who fully accepts her as she is, in both male and femme guises.  A lovely, really genuine person.

Georgia has also told most around her, so was interested in my own recent episodes with my own kids.  The difference though, as my wife would say and I totally agree,  is that a lot of those that do tell have already split up from their wives.  I know some within a marriage do tell, but telling the kids and your family when you still have a relationship you value is a very tough call.

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At 11, we switched venues, just up the road to Legends, which while just a bar upstairs had a nightclub and lotsa dancing downstairs.  Again no entry fee and pub prices, so pretty full from the outset and they were still coming in as I left about 3:00 am.  It’s not possible for a group of 20 to stay together in such circumstances and you wouldn’t want it.  Some want to sit, some stand, the smokers want to go outside.  Others to dance all night.  I was happy to flit in and out of conversations, to dance for half an hour.  Sometimes I would join the smokers, ‘outside’ to cool off (even though I don’t).  Actually some of the more interesting conversations were to be had there.  For a start you could hear yourself!  Secondly, I think you are more likely to mix and chat with your neighbour.  I had some really deep conversations well after midnight, with a 41-year-old lesbian who had just finished a 7 year relationship.  She couldn’t believe that I was married and hetro and asked surely if I flirted with you, you would be interested.  “Sorry I’m afraid not and besides you are gay’ I said and ‘wouldn’t be interested’.  I do have to admit though that go to a gay nightclub and you do see an awful lot of pretty girls.  The stereotype ‘dyke’ was hardly represented.

I also had a good half an hour with a 31 yr old gay drag queen, although he was not dressed that night.  He was just a really interesting guy and regaled me with tales as to what he did, what he wore, where he bought the stuff and how the kids of his partner just loved him in fancy costume.  Now I’ve never spoken to a drag queen before, but this guy was so totally unaffected.

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Lots more dancing before any thought of leaving.  Nena suddenly decided she wanted to go,  and I guess a shared taxi ride is a cost halved.  I knew I would be up in the morning for breakfast so my thoughts were let’s be sensible.  Sophie & Emma had stayed so my plan was to clean up, change back to male and get a few hours kip.  Well the girls had other plans, lol.  They were last out of the club at 5, so were back shortly after.  Coming into the room, they were very excited at the fact that Will Young had arrived at the club with his partner shortly after I had left.  No he didn’t want pictures, but yes they did have one!

Next thing we are joined by Sophie Hants and all were attacking the bottles that were in the room.  When Sophie’s son arrived 15 mins later, I asked how long the party was going to continue.  Eventually they came to bed, but couldn’t get to sleep.  I was then to find out what real girls do to try to fall asleep and that is talk.  Talk about everyone they know.  Now I did learn a lot I didn’t know that night even though I didn’t get to sleep.  Well at least not much.  Emma got up after a while and went walk about, then came back and announced others were going down to breakfast. I tell you, I’m too old for this lark.

Anyway breakfast was good.  And on the way back home I was listening to my football team in a very important relegation battle. I had to stay out till the end of it, and thankfully we scored in the last minute.  But  anyway it did mean that when I returned A-M’s guests would be away and there would be no awkward questions.  Well I was supposed to be on a golfing trip, but my clubs were in the airing cupboard, lol.

If that was golf, it was some trip.  Thanks to Katie and everyone that I spoke too.  I had a really cool evening being me.  It just felt natural and nice and I am grateful for the chance to do such things.  It’s just a shame, I take so long to recover!!

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Finally, a thought for Linda at Fabuliss, who is again not well.  I wish her strength and good fortune.

If you have been, thanks for reading.

Hugs TinaCortina x

You know it is just nice to know the reason I was being asked that, was that she cared that I would look good on Saturday.

The weekend has been organised by Katie Jordan  ”Firefighter Kate’, from Pompey (Portsmouth, to the non-Brits).  It is on the South Coast of England and on Saturday she has organised a night out in Brighton for all her friends.  I went once about 2 years ago, May 09, with this group of friends and had a really good time.  They have been several times since, but this is the first chance I’ve had to join them.  I gather there are over 20 girls this time around and we are staying at the Jury’s Inn Brighton.  We will all arrive Saturday afternoon, some together, some independently, but the evening is sure to be a gas, even if it is forecasted to rain again.  I am planning on a nice girly trip down there, maybe a little shopping in the afternoon then meeting up with the girls late afternoon. I’m told we need to be dressed to the nines by about 7:30 for an evening of pubbing, clubbing, dancing and just chilling ~ it will be nice to catch up with those I haven’t seen since the BBQ at Georgia & Nena’s last summer and to get to know all the other girls.

A-M had decided not to come on this occasion, that she was happy for me to go alone, so tonight, she was keen to see that I would be looking OK when I went out and not letting the side down.  Aaaaaaaaah!!

So I had an hour or so to put on my make-up, get dressed and to be up for approval.  And I’m pleased to say that apart from a rather ill-advised necklace, I passed muster.  So my outfit decided for Saturday night (not the one above of course), we then spent a cosy couple of hours on the shared sofa, eating aforesaid exquisite food, before she announced that she would retire upwards to hone her cooking skills even more to watch MasterChef, while my job was to clear up.  Not that I mind, it is my role anyway, A-M cooks, I clear up.  If I am dressed, even in a Saturday night going out outfit, then even better. I am feeling nicely mellow,  a little girly, looking forward to the weekend.

I shall  dress Saturday morning in jeans, smock and stretchy top, similar to the outfit I wore to the chill-out night at Fabuliss last week (see above, but jeans not leggings, so the boots will be under).  I will maybe select short rather than long wig, but I will be Tina and I will enjoy the hour or so drive down to Brighton.  Who knows, I may stop for petrol, may stop in a pub, or for a walk by the sea, but I shall check in as a girl, have a great evening I am sure with old friends and new.  Sunday, I may enjoy a walk along the prom but likely or not I shall be back in male mode.  The ability to switch mode is important.  And I enjoy the fact that I can dress and be totally femme one moment and be my male self another.

Actually for my football team there is another very important game on Sunday.  We have a new manager and are sitting close to the bottom of the premiership.  Maybe I will find a nice pub on the way back to watch the game.

Well I hope to post next week, but in the meantime, I wish anyone that reads this feels the serenity that has descened upon me as I write.

Hugs, Tina xx