“And then I’m happy for the rest of the day,
safe in the knowledge that there
will always be a bit of my heart devoted to it.”

Hey all,

I don’t know if you get this or not, but there are times when there are so many thoughts rattling around in my old brain, that it’s difficult to really know to start. Okay…. deep breath and concentrate, Lynn… and stop talking to yourself too. People talk as it is. 🙂

Shall we start with good stuff? This Thursday was Chameleons and as I hadn’t taken ill or broken anything (yay!), off I went. In time honoured tradition, it was a case of two outfits, but on this occasion, three sets of boots as I really couldn’t make my mind up. Ditzy eh? 😉 I was a little late than usual because I got caught up with work, but that was no great shakes and despite being slow getting there, oddly I was still the first to arrive.

Getting changed, perhaps unusually, is a time for a good old chat about various things. Sue (honestly: I’m terrible with names) popped in to say hi as she spotted the lights on upstairs. She was sporting a new wig and looking v nice too. We chatted while I did my face. Always a slightly strange experience; being stood in your guy clothes sans shirt (Ed: those tell tale make-up marks, eh tubby? 😛 ) while you sort your slap out. Anyhoo, another lady – well, lass I guess at 20 something drifted in from Sheffield way. No, I can’t remember her name either and I don’t know what’s worse: not remembering, or not remembering and then asking. Oops. 🙂 Anyways, time rolled along, so Alison and Maddy came in too. I ended up being mother hen (again) talking to Foxy 20s T-Girl about how to put a wig on, swapping boob tape tips with Maddy and then padding with Sue. Honestly, I don’t really think I know what I’m doing and – with no false modesty – I don’t consider myself to be an expert. I suppose with a few years your corset – sorry, belt – I guess you work out what works for you and if folk like that approach, so it goes.

I’d just about finished getting ready and then Mrs Alison dropped in to say we had a visitor. There had been a few emails in the group’s inbox: two from students doing projects. They’d asked to come along and why not? Anyway, the young lady in question had come along as she was doing a project on the concept of love. For you witty folk at the back, no, not the egocentric self-love that some of us have…. and shame on you for thinking that too. 😉

No, this was about relationships and Miss C wanted to talk to a few of us and, if possible, arrange to make some portrait shots for an art installation. I hope I’ve got the latter right! I did say to her that while most of us would be happy to help with her questions, getting candidates for a public gallery may be difficult. Yes, I do appreciate the irony of me saying no and then posting a picture on this blog. However, I feel that here, it’s far more hidden and really (hopefully?) folk would have to be digging through the t’interwebs to find me here. If my gurning visage was to grace a local art gallery, that’s a little different, so for me: it was a no. I did say that if we could do something artistic and avoid including my face, I’d be open to it, but that was a no-no.

So Miss C and I chatted a little about her project and why she’d decided to do what she did. From what I recall, she’d spoken to a few folks at Derbyshire Friend, a few gay people and she was working her way through the various parts of society. We talked about how long the Ever Lovely Mrs Jones and I had been together (many excellent years), when I told her about me being trans-something-or-other, how she took it and what effect, if anything, it had on our relationship. In all honesty, there are times when the trans stuff annoys – and I mean me as well as Mrs J. Yet, and please forgive me if I’ve said this before, but being trans, it’s not just about make-up, photos and fancy frocks… or partying and Facebook. To be serious for a mo, I feel it’s something that goes right through your core and helps make you, you.

I would like to think being trans makes me more sympathetic to minorities. I mean, the whole wanting to be treated fairly, not being stared at and just being able to get on in life. I would hope that being trans also makes me a little more understanding towards women. Now, please don’t think I consider myself to be a woman, I’m a bloke and I always will be. Yet, when you’re out and about and you see a group of rowdy men, there’s that little part of you that thinks what if they get violent? Fashion, lovely though some of it is, it’s not always comfortable and with clothes being fitted, there’s a pressure – perhaps from within (no pun intended) – to stay trim. Does that mean I experience sexism / the glass ceiling, or understand women? No, I very much doubt it. I only see the issues from the side, quite possibly through the lens of being trans and no doubt that distorts the picture somewhat….. Yet all that said, it doesn’t stop me being emphatic towards the issues people face.

Moving off the soap box and back on to what else has been happening, a few of us decided to go to the pub afterwards. Honestly, with the day I’d had at work earlier, I needed a bit more R & R time to reset my head and remind me that life’s better with friends rather than project deadlines. The pub delivered that rather well. The four of us – Emma, Maddy, Sophie and I – crashed out on the comfy sofas while the music played on. We had a chat with a somewhat drunken lad who’d been falling around the pool table. It was karaoke night, so Maddy and I were soon in the queue to maul – sorry, perform – our take on Blur’s Parklife. I had a chat with the DJ – lovely lady – about first albums (mine was Blur, her’s was quite a bit earlier!) while she found our choice.

Maddy mockney’d it up with some gor blimey, guv’nur rap while I attempted a spot of singing. Regards of the vocal quality, the rest of the pub started to join in and the place was really going for it by the end. A quality experience. By sheer good fortune, the DJ played Song 2 straight afterwards and dancing queen that I am, how could I resist? After a leap around to that, I was on cloud nine.

With our little turn done, it was off into the night to head home and off to bed. What a cracking night. Batteries fully charged. Thanks, girls. <<>>

Take care,

[ Today’s lryic: Parklife by Blur… and top news on the Life Time Award from the Brits. ]


  1. Twas indeed a good night. :o)
    (btw is that a typo 'He had a chat'? >'We had a chat'? :o)
    and we wont mention someone doing her cartman impression ;o)

  2. I'm disappointed I didn't get to come along to Chams. March is looking rubbish as well – people will insist on booking me onto things on Thursdays in obscure parts of the country.

    Definitely looks like you've got killer dance moves there though??


    1. Shame you didn't get to come along, but the good thing about Chams is that there's regular meetings.

      #sings "I've got the moves like Jabba – sorry! – like Jagger!" 😀

      I think it's fairly common knowledge that I do like a spot of dancing. I'll let others be the judge of 'the moves' – I just have a good time.

  3. Hmm. Didn't I type another version of my comment? I guess not. Huh. Go figure. 🙂

    Oooh. I remember: I had it up on the screen and I don't think I did anything with it! Duh. 🙂

    Once upon a time, if someone was talking to themselves and laughing, you'd think they were crazy. Now you just envy their social life… 🙂

    As for the narcissism – I can't even lleps that word!

  4. Nowadays folk who talk to themselves tend to have Bluetooth headsets…. or at least a small plastic toy glued in their ear to make you think they're A OK 😉

    As to your previous comment, I did get an email on it and then when I came here, it had vanished. I blame the Republicans. 😛

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