"You're quite welcome to come to the meal as Rachel if you like."
Three years Ago:
"Rachel? Who's Rachel? I don't know what you mean." Thinks: Shit! How did they find out?
Two Years Ago
"I'd love to. I just need to make sure it's dark when I leave the house so no-one sees me."
One Year Ago
"Fantastic! Great! Thanks! She'll be there. What to wear? What to wear?"
Saturday
"That's OK. I can't be doing with the effort of getting femmed up. I'll just come as a bloke."
In other news, I am now living in a strange world where it's considered normal to drive 100 miles, and for 2 1/2 hours (each way) to go for a meal. We added in some Christmas shopping to justify the outing, though. I guess the key phrase to bear in mind in cases like this is 'Dispersed Tranny Scene'.
