“It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine.”


Yes, I’m a day later than usual, but I have a good excuse; I was living it up on an Invasion night out. I could have gone with the dog ate my blog blog, but as the hound has her own Blogger account, what’s the chances of that? ๐Ÿ™‚

For those of you who’ve still got a turkey to wrap and presents to stuff, I’ve prepared two versions of tonight’s post.


Changing issues. Got fab. Had a truly great night out. Got home. Slept.


Good News from the War on Moping

Not sure if I alluded to this in the last few posts, but in recent months, life – from a pro-celebrity miserablist point of view – has been very kind to me. Yes, the nights have drawn in, the weather is damp and cold, yet, my mood has been remarkably buoyant. Indeed, the Ever Lovely Mrs Jones commented that I seemed different: more relaxed, more caring and less tense. What the root cause of this wonder is, I don’t know. Likewise, I don’t know what tipped me in the darkness before and to an extent, I’m not really sure knowing would really help. 

I’m just happy to be me once again. It’s been great not to be mulling things over, or metaphorically looking over my shoulder for the distant bay of the Black Dog (Ed: Bay of the Black Dog? Sounds like something from Pirates of the Caribbean. ‘Bring me that horizon and some ballet pumps, my feet are killing me’.) Being out from under the cosh, so to speak, I can and do find it easier to think of others. I think it’s that that Mrs J has noticed. I have tried to listen more – to actively listen – rather than have half an ear on what she was saying. I know that is just plain rude and I feel bad for it. It’s not so much that I wasn’t listening…. more that I was distracted by my own thoughts. I’ve heard it said that depression can be a selfish condition and I think it’s easy to take that as a negative. It is, at least speaking personally, not untrue, but not altogether a helpful statement. After all, when you feel down, the last thing you need is a bit more negativity coming your way. ๐Ÿ™‚ Still, bygones.

Outing Lynn

With what seemed like a much happier Jones household – and Xmas pretty much sorted – I checked I was okay to head out with the trans massive to Invasion. It didn’t clash with anything we had planned, the Ever Lovely Mrs J was cool about it, so it was all systems go! Yay. Happy times. Mrs J and I seemed to have reached a new level on our collective acceptance of my requirement for an extended wardrobe. It comes up in general conversation, rather than hushed, hurried tones. We joke about it and we talk openly.

Indeed, that was put to the test this very week. For some reason, I’d left an envelope from Chameleons on my bedside table. It simply said ‘Lynn’ on the front and I got a text about it late afternoon. It wasn’t so much a confrontation as a “is that your weekend name ?:-P” vibe. I didn’t think a text was the right time to explain, so we talked about something else and I addressed it when I got home. Now, I could have said it was for someone else, but it felt wrong to do so, so I didn’t deny it. I felt a bit…. funny? guilty? ill-at-ease?… over the whole thing. I started with, I’ll be honest with you…. Mrs J (bless her) laughed it off with, I sort of expected you to have a girlier name. We had a chuckle about it and neither of us could really get worked up enough to become upset. I think that can only be a good thing! I know a few people have said that how couldn’t she know? Simply, I don’t dress at home and I don’t refer to myself with that name, so it never comes up.

Christmas Invasion!

Apocalypse avoided, nippers snuggled and Mrs J kissed goodbye, I headed out to Invasion. The day before, I had the good luck to be working from home. While I waited some some systems to finish patching, I wrapped a few presents and tried on an outfit. Now, I was pretty sure that I wanted to wear my black & white skirt. Sure, it’s shorter than I’d normally go with, but hey, it’s Christmas and it’s very much a going out number. The only question was the top. I didn’t want to do a plain black top. To cut a long story short, I decided on a little black vest (thank you Next Outlet!) and a lacy top I borrowed from Mrs J. Bless her, she offered to lend me a jumper top, but with the puff sleeves, it made my shoulders look huge.

Now, because I can’t change at home, I’ll often nip up to the Centre where we run Chameleons. There’s usually someone in, so it’s not a problem. This time, there was just the local police in (they have an office upstairs), so I was in and getting ready. So far, so good. I’m just putting the last of my industrial strength shapewear on, when there’s a knock at the door. Just about to head out and we need to lock up.

Bugger. ๐Ÿ™‚

Okay. Don’t panic, Jones! I get my hoodie and jogging trousers back on (Ed: had you gone as a burglar, Lynn? :-P), wish the coppers merry Xmas and wait in the car until they’d gone. Well. Other than driving down the M1 to find a service station to use (no thanks), I made the best of it and finished getting ready in the car. Sure, the arc light and map-lamp in the car were not as good as I’m used to, but you gotta make the best of what you have sometimes. Besides, the tricky part of getting the clothes on was pretty much done. Face, hair and nails done, it was off into town.

The Main Event

Now, I arrived a bit before nine and I thought I was late. I bumped into Rachel first and the place was quiet. More and more folk turned up. I realised I’d left my false eyelash glue in the car, so there went my plan of fixing them. I headed to the loo to fix my mascara. Not wanting to cause offence, I headed into the gents. Yeah, it was a gay pub, but I don’t like to push it. Anyways, as I was stood by the mirror. I notice this chap behind me standing with his trap open looking at me like I’m the first trans person he’s seen. Okay, curiosity. Whatever. I carry on. Eye one done. He’s still looking. Ignore. Eye two. He’s still gawping. Deep breath and face him.

It’s okay, honey. It’s a gay pub. This happens. 

He shut his mouth and walks off. The bloke spending a penny behind him was trying so hard not to laugh and we had a chuckle at Mr Stare-o-tron’s expense once he’d gone.

Make-up fixed, it was time to mingle. Sam turned up, then Maddy. I bumped into Jemma and I got to meet Justine for the first time (who is lovely and I still miss her blog). I had a good long chat with her about stuff and after a quick photo opportunity with Jemma and Maddy, we headed to the next pub and finally a club.

Now, the club is more a straight venue than a gay one, but the group haven’t had any trouble and once folk seem to get their heads around the fact that the Invasion massive are just there to dance and have a good time, curiosity fades and we’re left to get on with the important things: like having a good time. ๐Ÿ˜‰

Rather than go with the more up-to-date rave-esq numbers upstairs, on recommendation, we opted for the 80s/90s retro stuff downstairs…. and I’m glad we did. I had a really good time dancing to some old school pop classics. Stuff I wouldn’t have danced to during my teenage metal period. Funny, that I knew all the words to the Whitney Houston numbers though eh? Self denial, it’s an ugly thing ๐Ÿ™‚

As we sat down to get our breath, Maddy mentioned something along the lines of this – the situation we were in right now – was beyond her dreams when she was younger. I think I’ve got that right and I’m with her. The idea that I’d be out with friends in Lynn mode and it wouldn’t be a problem, well. Back in the 80s, I would never have believed it would be possible. How things change eh?

Eventually, it was time to head back. So I bid fair well to the rest of the Invaders and made my way down the street to the bottom of the hill. Honestly, a hill in heels after you’ve been discoing it up all night? I think not. ๐Ÿ™‚

All in all, a very good night out. I got in about half one and strangely, I’ve not felt to tir….zzzzz ๐Ÿ™‚ Ahem. Yes. Right. One last thing to do: to wish you and yours a very merry Christmas and good luck for 2013. Make it glam, make it happen.

Thanks for reading,

[ Today’s lyric: It’s the End of the World by R.E.M ]


  1. Great post Lynn. So on that basis, apologies for honing in on just one part – I think your wife's view of having expected you to have a 'girlier' name is really interesting. I find the anticipated stereotype of us endlessly fascinating compared to the reality. So many of us just want to blend in normally as women or to stand out by being attractive normal women. And, as we've previously noted, normal women are called things like Lynn rather than Candy Snugglebottom (although I think that's quite catchy).

    It makes you wonder how many more of our wives would be accepting to see us dressed up if they genuinely understood that we are not going out and about being the answer to the question, 'Who dresses like a gaudy over made up drag queeen?' Although I clearly would fight for the right to be able to dress like that if I wanted. I don't.

    1. Thanks, Mrs. You seem to be bounding from the closet – which can only be a good thing after what you've had to put up with. <<>>

      No need to apologise: hone in by all means. ๐Ÿ™‚ I can't say I'd want to be an attractive woman – trade* descriptions and reality, of course – although I wouldn't want to be badly turned out.

      [ * not that type of 'trade' ๐Ÿ˜› ]

      Vanity? Perhaps, but if you're going to go out on the tiles, I think making an effort is part of the fun. I once read – and by no means do I throw this in over 'Oh, I am such a woman' – that often women will dress for themselves or each other, rather than men. Perhaps because most blokes don't notice. Well, non-trans blokes anyhoo. ๐Ÿ™‚

      Going with your comment about stereotypes, the angle about cross dressing and sex can't, I think, be ignored. But… when I got dressed the other day, the trial run, I didn't feel sexy as in… well, sexy (sh**, that's poorly explained), but I did feel good about myself. Not, 'ooh, I am dead sexy me' (that's best said in a flat Northern voice) but more, I felt happy with how I looked.

      I suppose that wives/girlfriends/boyfriends may be worried about the 'over the top' image that you allude to and the media helps deliver in spades. I guess no-one wants to be laughed at and by extension, maybe they don't want to associate with someone who could cause them or themselves (the partner) to be laughed at.

      On the flipside, I think it was in the book My Husband Betty – not that I've read it – where they author said she was fine with the cross dressing was all OTT and 'club style'. As soon as it became more 'normal' – her words – she began to get a bit worried.

      Thanks for the suggestion of Candy Snugglebottom, but I think I'll pass for now…. which is about the only use of the word 'pass' I can use ๐Ÿ˜€

      Merry Xmas to you to Mrs!
      L x

  2. I'm with Rhiannon (in agreement, not physically!). Great post. Although I'm still unsure where things are regarding my T-side, I sooo miss you all up there including the nights out and the occasional (for me) visit. Your post highlights how much I miss it. Ah, well. Next year isn't too far away now….

    From a computer / techie / car stuff view I'm glad I am the age I am now. Growing up through the time when black and white tellys (thought about using TVs but terms could confuse) then colour became commonplace; going from no computers in the general world outside of major labs and universities to being absolutely everywhere now; from car transport being very simple and open to the overly electroniced, super safe cars and heavily speed limited, CCTV world in which we now live. It's incredible how far tech has percolated into everyday life within quite a short time.

    But from Tanya's view, I wish I was 20 years younger. Or even 10 to 15 years would do. We wouldn't be doing what we do now in the 90's never mind the 80's. Thinking about it, we could get away with it in the 80's if we ModRom'd. The big difference these days is that people just don't put up with us now, but accept us for what we are. It's incredible how far acceptance has percolated into the public life within quite a short time.

    Merry Christmas to you and the Every Lovely Mrs J and the family.

  3. Sorry to hear you're missing the Invasion stuff. Your lack of invading and Chameleon visits has been noted. Umm. Not in a 'I hope you have a good excuse, Ms Williams', more a we-miss-you-too kinda way ๐Ÿ™‚

    Yes, the change of technology from lab to living room is something that amazes me still. Just the other day, Wee Man was using Skype to talk to his friend who was on holiday in America. The idea you can have a video chat – for free – at the click of a button still wows me. What adds to this, is that for Wee Man and kids of his age, is that this is typical. They are used to this level of connectivity and function. I wonder where we are headed next. Hopefully not into a William Gibson future; that's a bit too bleak. ๐Ÿ™‚

    ModRom? You've lost me on that. I have a feeling it's something a bit New Romantic, but I was never down with the kids ๐Ÿ™‚ I think I'd be okay with very early 30s. Life seemed much simpler then…. although I was fatter and less sure of what I wanted / was doing. Maybe this side of 40 isn't so bad. At least I'm happy with who (want?) I am now.

    Oh… and Merry Xmas to you too, Mrs. Hope to see you in the New year.

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