So there we were, playing 'Rock Band' on the X-Box; my daughter, her friend and I. It was first time, and my daughter was explaining (badly) how I selected my character. As I fliundered around the controls a woman popped up and I decided to give up working out what I was doing an use her.
"Yeah", says my daughter "That seems a good choice, given what you are."
I flash her a warning glance, taking in her friend (who seemed oblivious), and indicating that the Tranny Thing was a no-no in the present circumstances.
"Oh, it's OK", says the fruit of my loins, "She knows."
Cue Rachel in bloke mode sitting there open-mouthed.
"I told her."
Even more open-mouthed.
Her friend still seemed oblivious, and I gave my daughter a special "We'll Talk About This Later" look (I'm good at looks). Then we murdered whatever song it was we chose to murder.
And she had. Told her. Weeks ago, apparently.
The thing is that whilst I am not strictly closeted, I do maintain a certain level of secrecy about being a CD in my local area, precisely because the children were concerned about it getting out at school. Now, fortunately, this friend of hers goes to a different school, so we have something of a buffer in that respect, but they both go to the same Guide group as people who do go to my kid's school. Really it's not a matter of if word gets out, but when. For my wife and I we'll live with it. Indeed if I no longer have to conceal my trannying from the population of Staines I can shop a little more freely and worry less about being spotted when going off to various events. My daughter has made her own bed, and will have to lie on it. But my son was the most concerned about word getting out, and now she's potentially blown it for him. We'll see. All being well we won't be around these parts much longer, so it may all be academic, but if word does get out, we'll know the source.
Kids. Who'd have them?
Friday, 25 July 2008
Monday, 21 July 2008
Magic Theatre IV - And A First
Magic Theatre IV has come and gone, this time with the magic transferred to a new venue. Previously held at the Rivoli Ballroom somewhere in SE London, this time it was held in Blomsbury. The new venue was interesting - a 1930s ballroom - but we didn't think it had the charm of the Rivoli, and the bars, though less busy than the Rivoli were far more expensive. Central London prices I guess. Parking was fine; we managed to get on-street parking for free only a couple of minutes walk away.
I went with Mrs Rachel (of course), and also my brother and his wife. Despite my annoucement of a few months ago I did go as Rachel; the chance to dress up was too strong, and with the way our life is panning out at the moment (more on that in a later post perhaps) I need to take any dressing opportunity I can at present.
So here's my outfit, with the added bonus of a brief glimpse of Mrs Rachel in the background:
However Helena Love took a much better picture at the event itself, which can be seen here.
What few pictures I took that came out can be seen here. My camera wasn't up to much in the low light of the venue; whilst the flash gives you an image you can see, the auto-focus can't see anything to focus on, so you get a well-lit blur.
The format of the event was as you'd expect; fabulous costumes, dancing to a varied selection of music and a few cabaret acts. Whilst all of the acts were good, top marks went to
The She-Creatures; great music, a great show and wonderful costumes. I liked them enough to download stuff when I got home.
When I got home, eventually, that should be.
Driving into Central London on a Saturday evening took a while, but no longer than we expected; just over an hour to do the 20 miles or so, and that was taking into account some roadworks in Earl's Court. We thought he journey home would be quicker. After all, it was going to be 1am; just how busy could it be? The answer was very busy; Central London was utterly gridlocked so far as we could see. We were heading west from Bloomsbury, and it took us more than an hour just to get as far as the Natural History Museum. It certainly took us over two hours to get home which, when you're tired and (as I was) fully trannied up, is a bit of a strain. All things considered we enjoyed Magic Theatre at the new venue (was the dance-floor extra slippery, though, or was that just me?), but we'd have to consider how we are going to travel there next time or, at least, consider an alternative route.
As I said earlier, my brother and sister-in-law joined us, having come down from Birmingham earlier in the day. On Sunday, after we emerged tired and danced-out and ate bacon sarnies, we headed back into London (on the train this time) so we could pay a visit to Camden Market. And what a great time we had; there were just far too many shops for us to deal with, just as we remember from our last visit (about 15 years ago!). I was in bloke mode, but was in the market for Rachel stuff. Which meant that there were plenty of stall-holders who saw me browsing clothes and asked what size I was looking for. "Oh", I'd say, "I'm a 12" (I was looking for skirts). As my wife has said before, I might as well hang a sign around my neck saying 'I Am A Tranny!'. But the thing was I was in an area where people have seen it all, and it wasn't an area where I needed to be discrete. True I had the children with me, so I tried to avoid anything that would blatantly embarass them, but I was able to happily admit to people that I was a crossdresser, and enjoy shopping for clothes and other bits openly and happily. Which gave me a new tranny first; seeing a skirt I really liked in one of the shops I went and tried it on; my first time trying Rachel clothes out and about whlst in bloke-mode. I didn't come out and model it in the shop, it's true (the children didn't want me to and, frankly, I'm not sure I would have been a good advert for the shop's wares in a pretty skirt with stompy boots), but try it on I did. And I bought it; a lovely brown/maroon hippy skirt with floral motifs on it which I think I will wear to the Surey Swans next week.
I say my children had the possibility to be embarassed, but not enough that they wouldn't back me up. On one stall I was looking at a nice skirt whilst my daughter was with me. The lady asked if I liked it, and we negotiated a price before I considered trying it. "You want to try it on?", she said. "Yes please", I said. "Oh," she said, "Is it for a party?". "Oh no," I replied, "It's for me. I'm a transvestite". She looked at more for a second, then turned to my daughter; "Is that true?", she asked. "Oh he is, yes", said my daughter, and for a brief moment her eyes said 'And don't I know it'.
The skirt was too small.
I went with Mrs Rachel (of course), and also my brother and his wife. Despite my annoucement of a few months ago I did go as Rachel; the chance to dress up was too strong, and with the way our life is panning out at the moment (more on that in a later post perhaps) I need to take any dressing opportunity I can at present.
So here's my outfit, with the added bonus of a brief glimpse of Mrs Rachel in the background:
However Helena Love took a much better picture at the event itself, which can be seen here.
What few pictures I took that came out can be seen here. My camera wasn't up to much in the low light of the venue; whilst the flash gives you an image you can see, the auto-focus can't see anything to focus on, so you get a well-lit blur.
The format of the event was as you'd expect; fabulous costumes, dancing to a varied selection of music and a few cabaret acts. Whilst all of the acts were good, top marks went to
The She-Creatures; great music, a great show and wonderful costumes. I liked them enough to download stuff when I got home.
When I got home, eventually, that should be.
Driving into Central London on a Saturday evening took a while, but no longer than we expected; just over an hour to do the 20 miles or so, and that was taking into account some roadworks in Earl's Court. We thought he journey home would be quicker. After all, it was going to be 1am; just how busy could it be? The answer was very busy; Central London was utterly gridlocked so far as we could see. We were heading west from Bloomsbury, and it took us more than an hour just to get as far as the Natural History Museum. It certainly took us over two hours to get home which, when you're tired and (as I was) fully trannied up, is a bit of a strain. All things considered we enjoyed Magic Theatre at the new venue (was the dance-floor extra slippery, though, or was that just me?), but we'd have to consider how we are going to travel there next time or, at least, consider an alternative route.
As I said earlier, my brother and sister-in-law joined us, having come down from Birmingham earlier in the day. On Sunday, after we emerged tired and danced-out and ate bacon sarnies, we headed back into London (on the train this time) so we could pay a visit to Camden Market. And what a great time we had; there were just far too many shops for us to deal with, just as we remember from our last visit (about 15 years ago!). I was in bloke mode, but was in the market for Rachel stuff. Which meant that there were plenty of stall-holders who saw me browsing clothes and asked what size I was looking for. "Oh", I'd say, "I'm a 12" (I was looking for skirts). As my wife has said before, I might as well hang a sign around my neck saying 'I Am A Tranny!'. But the thing was I was in an area where people have seen it all, and it wasn't an area where I needed to be discrete. True I had the children with me, so I tried to avoid anything that would blatantly embarass them, but I was able to happily admit to people that I was a crossdresser, and enjoy shopping for clothes and other bits openly and happily. Which gave me a new tranny first; seeing a skirt I really liked in one of the shops I went and tried it on; my first time trying Rachel clothes out and about whlst in bloke-mode. I didn't come out and model it in the shop, it's true (the children didn't want me to and, frankly, I'm not sure I would have been a good advert for the shop's wares in a pretty skirt with stompy boots), but try it on I did. And I bought it; a lovely brown/maroon hippy skirt with floral motifs on it which I think I will wear to the Surey Swans next week.
I say my children had the possibility to be embarassed, but not enough that they wouldn't back me up. On one stall I was looking at a nice skirt whilst my daughter was with me. The lady asked if I liked it, and we negotiated a price before I considered trying it. "You want to try it on?", she said. "Yes please", I said. "Oh," she said, "Is it for a party?". "Oh no," I replied, "It's for me. I'm a transvestite". She looked at more for a second, then turned to my daughter; "Is that true?", she asked. "Oh he is, yes", said my daughter, and for a brief moment her eyes said 'And don't I know it'.
The skirt was too small.
Friday, 11 July 2008
Not For Public Display
So, it's just about a week to go until Magic Theatre IV. Because of a potential tranny drought in the near future I have decided to abandon my plans of going en-bloke and will frock up for it. I start chosing outfits, even to the extent of ordeing a possibility from eBay.
The Plan: By tomorrow (Saturday) I should have a choice of frocks and shoes. Indeed I know which shoes I want to wear, and am merely deciding which frock I want to wear with them. Easy. It's Saturday. I can spend the morning trying on the outfits, and then decide which is to be The One. I can then head out to the shops and accessorise. By the end of the day my outfit will be chosen, and I can then relax and enjoy the run-up to the event. Easy.
The Reality: We put our house on the market, and are informed that we have at least four viewings during the course of Saturday. It is felt that me parading around the house wearing pretty frocks, high-heels and a beard (I save shaving for tranny-nights only) is likely to put off potential buyers. Tomorrow Rachel will be locked firmly in the closet. And the accessories I need will stay in the shops I won't be visiting.
Bums.
The Plan: By tomorrow (Saturday) I should have a choice of frocks and shoes. Indeed I know which shoes I want to wear, and am merely deciding which frock I want to wear with them. Easy. It's Saturday. I can spend the morning trying on the outfits, and then decide which is to be The One. I can then head out to the shops and accessorise. By the end of the day my outfit will be chosen, and I can then relax and enjoy the run-up to the event. Easy.
The Reality: We put our house on the market, and are informed that we have at least four viewings during the course of Saturday. It is felt that me parading around the house wearing pretty frocks, high-heels and a beard (I save shaving for tranny-nights only) is likely to put off potential buyers. Tomorrow Rachel will be locked firmly in the closet. And the accessories I need will stay in the shops I won't be visiting.
Bums.
Saturday, 5 July 2008
Musings On Wimbledon
I don't follow Wimbledon these day. To tell the truth I've never really followed it that avidly, although I did once skive an afternoon off school to watch the Ladies' final once (in the days when it was played on a Friday afternoon).
Anyway, I don't follow Wimbledon, but I did catch a few minutes of BBC2's coverage of it last night, when I switched on for the finale of 'Heroes'. They were previewing the all-Williams final, and showed various shots of them playing. Now I don't know which sister it was, but one of them was wearing the most enormous hoop ear-rings. And all I could think was, "How does she play tennis in those?"
Even when I manage to drag myself into the Mysterious Blokey World of Sport, I can't manage to do anything more than comment on ear-rings ...
Anyway, I don't follow Wimbledon, but I did catch a few minutes of BBC2's coverage of it last night, when I switched on for the finale of 'Heroes'. They were previewing the all-Williams final, and showed various shots of them playing. Now I don't know which sister it was, but one of them was wearing the most enormous hoop ear-rings. And all I could think was, "How does she play tennis in those?"
Even when I manage to drag myself into the Mysterious Blokey World of Sport, I can't manage to do anything more than comment on ear-rings ...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)