Big night out this Saturday, so day time was just getting ready. Clean up and try and do nails in black cherry. Frustration, it “dries” I try to do something and big smudge, arrggg, need more patience. In the end decide to let it chip/smudge and redo it later, had to dash out. Quick trip to Camden en Bob, needed some additions to the outfit, I was planning to wear (it’s so cute it’s a shame to keep it indoors and also it suited the evening) some white lace gloves where deemed necessary, a spare pair of fence net tights could come in handy (tights are so fragile in my clumsy hands) and a look see if I could find another suitable lacy blouse in a larger size (my existing one was, rather tight, in an unsafe sort of way). Success, find everything, even exactly the same blouse as before but in “Large” (sob) at one of the Gothic Lolita places, grab stuff for lunch and return home to finish packing.

How much stuff!! Filled an entire case for just one night out! How? I suppose the posh outfit, normal clothes (M and F), spares and two tons of makeup and cleansing products all added up I guess. But I like the security of having backup items and more stuff than I actually need, so just lug the big old case onto the bus and another bus and the train to Greenwich.

Hotel, Novatel next to the station, quite nice, bit bland and far to costly to make this a regular night. Have a while before I even need to start getting ready so decide to scope out the location. As well as having spares, I like to know where I’m going, and more importantly, how to get back afterwards. Not someone who can fly by the seat of her pants me, not Miss spontaneous, but I counter that by saying one thing I’ve learnt from too many years in the IT industry is to always have a backup. The event was the inaugural  Magic Theatre at the Rivoli Ballroom. It looked like a sort of Burlesque evening, but apparently very TG friendly. The ball room is in Brockley, 2 or 3 miles from Greenwich (the nearest hotel I could find with rooms free was there), had a map and got walking. It took 35 minutes or so (in boy shoes) and to be honest, went through some not so great areas. I was thinking about walking back from the venue afterwards, but this put me off. The ballroom itself doesn’t exactly inspire from the outside either, definitely seen better days, hoped the inside is nicer. Grab some more stuff for dinner (I’m to cheap to eat at the hotel) and find a bus that will take me 2/3rds of the way back, and its got a night route to, handy if I can’t find a cab.

Scouting mission complete and time to change. Shred face with razor try to cover the worst up with makeup and fix nails. Nails are still frustrating, finally end up with them at least all covered up, but the finish ain’t great, hope it’s dark enough at the Rivoli for nobody to notice. On with the outfit, new blouse fits perfectly and I’m ready, the event starts at 8, but don’t want to arrive to early, so, oh what’s this, I remembered to pack my camera Snap a few photos in the hotel room.

Deep breath and we are off, covered up the outfit with a big coat and have jeans and more sensible boots in a backpack just in case, but am still showing rather a lot of net tighted leg for a respectable hotel … But reception aren’t phased and order me a mini cab.

Cab ride and this is it, made it, first time at an event like this, deeper breath and walk in. Tis nicer inside, though still a bit faded and retro with lots of red and gold, but then it was built in the 1913, it’s not retro, it’s original slightly smaller than I imagined, but big enough, not full yet either, but the night was young. Check in coat and bag, check slap and go to the bar for some nerve tonic. The bar prices are outrageous, I simply wasn’t expecting that at all, I mean it’s actually…. CHEAP! Cheaper than my local pub, reasonable glass of red for £2 Well that’s a turn up, and if all goes horribly wrong I can at least afford to drown my sorrows ;)  Find a little table to myself, sip the wine and  people watch. There’s a band on , pretty good to, and a few are dancing, hey great outfits, a lot of efforts has been made. Plus it’s not all TG, maybe 20-30% at max, probably more GGs than any other group. Enjoy the eye candy for a bit, will need another glass or two before I start dancing. Am invited to join a group of Roses and we chat a bit, as usual my conversational skills are a bit of a let down, plus its hard to talk over the music. Thanks to Claire Tall, Lulu, Anthea, Philippa. Debe, Fiona, Penny and all the others for putting up with me.

Another glass and have a bit of a bop on the dance floor. Can’t really dance, but quite like just jumping around slightly out of time. Several people can dance properly though. They actually do hold ballroom, jive and swing events here.

Band finishes, actually they where better than pretty good, DJ comes on with some lounge core, jump around a bit more but not all the tunes aren’t that danceable so get my camera and point it some of the exotic people instead.

Nobody seems to mind having there picture taken and a quite a few reciprocate, so there you have it, want to take pictures of beautiful people at a burlesque event, wear a skirt shorter than they are

After the DJ, a performance artiste does a turn, a Burlesque striptease, a lot of fun and quite classy in fact, the girl was a star. Only performance of the evening though, could of done with a couple more like her.

The band starts up there second set and turns it up a notch and I’m bouncing around the dance floor. Step on a poor girls foot though :(  sorry love. me big clumsy oaf. What is about a good live version of La Bamba that really gets me moving, even Bob will dance to that. By the end of the set I’m singing along, very happy and quite warm. As the old phrase goes, women glow, men perspire and horses sweat, well I was glowing buckets honey. Note to self, if you are going to dance like mad, don’t wear PVC. DJ comes on again after the set and I need a bit of a chill out go and hide in the bar

Was a bit unsociable, lurking by myself (but given the amount I was glowing, that was probably a good idea though, did speak to a few but was really much pretty out of it by now, quite a night (and it was only about 1am), Rest up, get a crafty vodka at last orders and decide to call it an evening.

Changed into plain jeans, more sensible boots and a hat, that plus the big coat in an attempt to try and be a bit less eye catching for the trip home. Walk out and ask the doorman about reliable minicabs (I was assuming there would be cabs waiting like the WOC). He hands me a card for a local cab company as none where waiting outside. And guess which Muppet forget her phone, yes tried to prepare for everything and forgot that, can’t phone for a cab. Drat, well glad I made a backup plan, bus stop is just down the road. Wait for the night bus. And wait and wait and wait a bit more, and then a bit more after that, sigh. Getting bored now, spot a black cab with his light on hooray, stick my arm out and he pulls over and I give the address of my hotel. But then I guess we got a good look at me, he says he is lost and looking for the way back to the centre of town and can’t help, sorry MATE. A lost black cab driver who would pull over for a potential fair anyway, yeah right. Sigh.

Fortuantly the night bus turns up two minutes later anyway and takes me to New Cross, no hassle. Have to walk back from here, but its only about 15 minutes down main roads, so not to bad, and anyway I’m hungry by now, so look for a kebab shop. But there doesn’t seem to be any, nor chicken shops or anything, only place for food is a late night off license, so get some chocolate. Weird, normally you can just throw a stick an hit a fast food place in London. Keep walking looking for an open place, walk past my hotel as I really want some chips by now (but am to tight to pay for room service). Group of pissed up GG’s take the mickey (”Hey sexy drag queen” etc) as I pass them, that plus a a few odd looks is pretty much all the negative attention I receive, not the end of the world. Eventually find a cafe open in central Greenwich and get the much needed chips. Happy and full now, return to the hotel to clean up and crash. Apparently it was the coldest night of the year so far, didn’t notice.

Even though I’m really tired can’t sleep, its always that way in a strange bed. Get up early instead.

Back to bob, could of dressed again I suppose, but well, you know, kind of Trans’ed out for the week by now. Decide to forgo the hotel breakfast (me being tight again) and wander into back into Greenwich to find some alternative. End up at that cafe I visited the night before and enjoy the simple pleasure of a big mug of tea, a newspaper and a fry up After that have walk in the fresh morning air to clear out the cobwebs, short way down by the river before turning up back to the park and up to the Royal Observatory. The early morning sunlight paints some nice vistas for photos.

Then it’s back to the hotel, pack and checkout.

I hope the night was successful enough for them to put it on again, if it was an occasional event every 2 or 3 months it would be really cool. I’ll go back again, will you join me?
 

Saturday and it’s on with the new stripy black jumper, fits nicely but could do to be a bit longer, black jacket and tights, fav clumpy boots and tiny little black denim mini. They all go, but that skirts is too tiny for daylight, its almost too tiny for a nightclub, so wear leggings underneath as well for modesty’s sake, and cause its cold out. Top off with a black beret, Berets are definitely in at the moment, I’ve seen loads of GGs wearing them recently and there was a fashion article in London Lite (or that other free evening paper I forget, they are practically the same anyway) on them last week as well. Of course they are all following my fashion lead from two weeks ago Black and white stripy jumper and black beret, that and my black and white “Chanel”  bag and sacre bleu (as the French actually never say nowadays) what a cliché, just need a string of onions And I was planning to go the newly opened St Pancras International today for a look see as well. Add a pair of leather gloves, cause they go, it’s cold and they cover up the pink nail varnish I put on the night before, as it was all wrong for this outfit.

Wasn’t really planning to spend the whole day at St Pancras, its only a train station, so what else to do, well I spotted these boots I’d quite liked the look of (black leatherish knee length lace up, want a pair for like that for a particular outfit I’m planning) on Doreen fashion’s website, so jump on the bus up to Leyton to see if I can get some that fit. But they don’t carry that line in the shop, its special orders only the only boots they have a fetishy PVC ones. Oh, slight disappointment, wander off the Walthamstow shopping centre to console my self.

Little black sequin mini (I’ve seen one on a poster somewhere that looked fab with a black sweater), cheap, from Atlantic, some blush and nail varnish from Boots. Drop into a couple of shops to see if they have some similar boots, unlikely given my requirement for size 9 or 10, but it’s worth a look. Evans actually do, but the calf’s on them seem to be designed for a small elephant, so skip. Shoezone, and oh they look nice, not exactly what I was looking for, but still nice, blown suede boots with fur trim, little straps and low wedge heals. Actually rather cute, look comfy (need more walking about shoes and boots) and will go well with blue denim, similar, but prettier and more detailed than the Uggs and joy, the sticker on the bottom of the boots states they actually go up to size 9 Ask, but they don’t have any in stock in that size Oh, what to do, hrmm, well if they don’t have any in this branch, try another? It was still before lunch, plenty of time, they have another branch at Dalston and Kingsland and that’s on the way back to town, so go find a bus. But there aren’t any bus to Dalston from Walthamstow bus station (its curiously short of buses heading west), so walk down back to Leyton and get one there or wait a sec, spot bus going to Straford, they have a shopping centre too, quite big if I remember right, bound to have a branch, bus is here and I don’t have to walk (even in clumpy heals to much walking hurts), new plan, Stratford it is.

But what follows is one of those bus journeys, bus never seems to get more than about 15mph before it gets stuck in traffic or has to stop again, packed to, full of people talking endlessly into there mobiles or playing loud music and screaming kids. Seems to last forever, actually it’s about 50 minutes, but it felt longer, I’ve cycled that journey in half that. Relief when I finally get off.

And they do have a branch of Shoezone in Stratford, and they have that line, but no size 9’s are hanging up, queue to speak to a sales assistant (not big on staff is Shoezone, that’s one reason they stay cheap), and she directs me to another girl, who goes and has a look in the stockroom. Wait, wait, and she returns with a box, they do have some 9’s and they fit, sold Actually the girl who went to get the boots was really nice and helpful, cute too, top marks. Shopping high, buy a slab of cake (yes a slab, to eat later) for a pound from the stall (they have little market stalls inside the mall) outside the shop to celebrate. Gawd am I this shallow? A pair of new boots that fit and I’m a happy bunny? There is more to life than shopping…. so is there a shop somewhere I can buy a life from, no? damm. Wander around a few more shops and stalls, as I’m here, but no more is bought, consumerist needs have been met.

So far so good then, and apart just one person in the market in Walthamstow fairly quietly pointing out the obvious to her husband, I’m just another face in the crowd, even in that skirt. The passion killer leggings must help, they make sure it ticks the not tarty box, but I guess it’s mostly to do with the area. Place’s like Walthamstow and Stratford (and others I’ve been to in East London like Hackney and Dalston) have a huge mix of people, many races and cultures living and working there, there is no average to stand out against, people are used to the mix, so I reckon even the transgendered just go into the melting pot and I guess giving them any additional attention, good or bad, just isn’t necessary.

Across to Stratford station (aren’t they building another stop for the Eurostar here for the Olympics?) and tube back to town and St Pancras. Well it is just a station, I pass it everyday on the way to work, but I’ll have a quick shufty. Oh, it’s not an ordinary station anymore, they have done a hell of a job, quite a bit wow. The huge single arched transparent roof with blue fittings fills the place with light. It’s an odd mix, the modern glass and stainless steel fittings with the refurbed Victoria brick and wrought iron, but it works really well. As railway station’s go, it’s possibly the most impressive one I’ve ever seen. OMFG Train Station spotting again, me sad well it’s easier than actual train spotting, they are much bigger, and don’t move The hotel bit isn’t finished yet though and the front of the station it is still a bit of a building site, and most of the shops haven’t been fitted out yet though. Still impresses though.

This all got me thinking I want to go to Paris for a long weekend, perhaps not full time as Helena, passport control could be awkward and I can’t keep up girl mode for that long anyway, but I certainly want to have my stroll down the Champs Elyéess in heels. Wait till spring I think and then go, with this station and the high speed line, I could be in Paris in 3-3.5 hours from leaving my front door. Definite must do. Actually I used to go to Paris fairly often, the company I used to work for was a women clothing retailer and for the last 4 years of its life, French owned. I worked in the IT dept, and had to go over the Paris head office every now and then for work. International business travel, how glamorous. Not really, for an IT grunt like me anyway, Waterloo, Eurostar (standard class), Metro, bland chain hotel, bland office in rough suburb, Metro, Eurostar (on the old slow line that crawled through the UK), and tube home was usually it. Rarely got to see much of Paris, but now its time to change that. As I’ve discovered in London, revisiting somewhere you know in Helena mode can be fun and show it up the place in a whole new light. Will probably end up in La Défense taking pictures of skyscrapers though

In the station there’s a feeling of occasion in the air, it’s rather jolly really and there is some entertainment laid on, though it’s a bit odd, there’s some sort of waiter based performance art, some “comedy” (not actually that good with two “newsreaders” giving a running commentary on the workings of the lift) and a performance makeover with a couple in period dress doing up peoples hair and faces in wild avant garde styles and colours.

I gravitate towards the Champagne bar, the longest in Europe don’t you know. Takes ages to get served and they have run out of what I wanted, so settle for an alternative glass of bubbly and nibbles. Funny I though I saw someone else with…. own never mind. Perhaps the service is not so good perhaps because the staff are Parisian, they are very busy (the place is packed), because I’m trans or more likely I’m in a beret and stripy jumper and they think I’m taking the piss Actually the alternative Champagne (forget name, was the 2nd one down on the menu)  is rather good, one of the best I’ve tasted, not a big champers drinker, even stuff that’s quite expensive doesn’t taste all that good to me, but liked this. Have noticed Champagne tastes better in girl mode though. Nibbles where good too, and the portion generous. It’s not cheap here (glass of fizz, £7.50, and that’s one of the least expensive), but it’s an occasion and I’m not looking to get plastered. Plus my local charges over a fiver for a rather ordinary glass of red, so it isn’t that bad. Take my glass and nuts to the end of the bar and sip it with a smile.

As there’s a lowish glass partition separating the bar from the rest of the platform and I’m by it, I’m asked a few times by passers by, how to get in to the bar (You have to go around), also ask a gentleman to take my photo (doesn’t come out as well as the arm outstretched shot).  Get nothing but good reactions from all, perhaps they think I’m part of the entertainment Finish my drink, and have another look around, finding a quiet spot with a great metal wall for a photo.

But that’s enough train station, I fancy a coffee and the branch of Costa in station isn’t finished yet (I especially fancied Costa), and I have a DVD to get and need to go to the supermarket of course, so back into town. But I’ll have to go back, to go to Paris of course, but the champagne bar needs to be visited again as well

Head towards the Brunswick, they should have what I need, but no, no branch of Costa, they have Starbucks but that won’t do and the Virgin Mega store, now rebranded as Zavvi or something doesn’t have the DVD, so carry on. Get a magazine from a newsagent, Glamour, not my usual snowboard or PC game rag, but well, its cheap, has a free bag (I get the gold one, wanted the black one) and chocolate bar and it will give me something to read with my coffee. Accidentally leave a glove on counter, shop keeper calls me back and returns it, thanks. Apart from that managed to hang on to my gloves all day so far, that’s probably a record. Find a Costa near Holborn and get my Tiramisu Latte with whipped cream. Yummm, indulgent yes, but I don’t do them that often. They are really good, so much better than Starbuck’s Xmas Crème Brule latte. Enjoy a few more long moments in a big armchair with a magazine and coffee and a little muffin. Have that warm “I’m really Helena” feeling by now, feels nice.

Decided not to bother going further into town instead go back to the Brunswick and Waitrose for food shopping. It’s dark now and there’s a been a bit of wintery rain, the pink lighting in the centre makes the puddles look rather pretty, snap away.

Oh and that last pic, on Sunday morning, Mother Nature decided to get in on the pink tip, and gave us a pink dawn. Wander around a few shops, it’s almost an automatic reaction, before hitting the supermarket, chocolate place is nicceee Get a couple of days worth of ready meals and head towards home, pass by this little park near the Brunswick, it’s all lit up with blue lights for some reason, and there are a lot of kids around, I guess there must have been something on.

Turn down Lamb’s Conduit’s street (love the name) and there’s another bunch of kids on the other side of the road, some have balloons. Pass them by, but hear someone running behind me, then someone smacks me on the backside and runs off, it’s a boy, definitely preteen, probably about 10, I hear child’s voices “He really did it” etc. Well weird, so weird I don’t really know quite what to do, so just keep walking, well it was only a kid anyway and its not like any harm came about, he must of done it for a dare. Certainly one of the stranger things that have happened to me while out.

Dash for a bus on Theobald’s Road, as I pass, an elderly woman with a cane asks me to hold the bus as she can’t move fast, I just make it and relay the message to the driver, but he doesn’t seem to respond, and starts moving the bus, but only moves it on a few more yards, and picks up the elderly woman. Which was nice.

Have to change buses at Angel, so take the opportunity to duck into Woollies, and joy, they do have the DVD, Stargate SG1 again, funny there doesn’t seem to be much of a marketing push for this season (10, it’s the last one isn’t it) and it can be harder to find. Another overcrowded bus (won’t someone offer a lady with shopping a seat? some hope ) and I’m home. Put feet up and think about going out again, but only get as far as thinking about it and eat some cake instead. 4 buses, 3 shopping centres, 2 stations, and a tube is quite enough for one day,

Not a bad day at all, bit dull for you lot reading this perhaps, oh well, next week might be more interesting, Cinders (well more like one of the ugly sisters) is going to the ball …..
 

Still got the snow thing bad, so got up very early on Saturday (and didn’t sleep so well the night before), and went to MK for a couple of hours in XSCAPE. Snow wasn’t to bad, not to crowded and the lifts didn’t keep stopping, good, slammed a few times, not so good, including a mighty faceplant trying to follow a slalom course that had been set out (my excuse it was used for skiers who had carved a big rut, and that rut wasn’t snowboard shaped ), big heel edge catch when riding switch threw me on my back, fortunately body armour, my helmet and adrenaline took the sting out of it. Well with snowboarding, if you ain’t falling over, you ain’t trying hard enough Managed to get on the box a few times and managed to stomp the landing twice, woot. Came out feeling pretty good, but knew I would hurt the next day (and I broke a nail). Bit to eat/drink then back home to change.

Electricity bill greeted me when I got back, HOW MUCH!!!! They have some how managed to estimate my meter reading to produce a bill 10x larger than the amount I usually pay. This isn’t fair, I’m going to have to pay up, but I have to get in touch with the land lady so I can get a real meter reading (meters not in my flat, see), Electric company are going to be owing me money for ages Didn’t put me in a good mood.

Cleaned up and dressed down, very down, just some baggy jeans, cream sweater (again), my Uggs and this green jacket I got a couple of weeks ago for a fiver. That, plus minimal makeup and it’s very a ordinary and plain, bordering on androgynous look. Didn’t want to attract attention, got a bit too much last week, and not all positive, so wanted to stand out less this time. One advantage of this sort of look is that it took at least an hour less than usual to get ready

Another reason for the dress down is that I didn’t want to give out the wrong impression, I had been having email conversions with someone, who , well lets call them F. F initially contacted me through a TG site, but most of the conversation had really been from there male self, TGism’s didn’t really come up much. An email from him said he was going to be in town that evening and did I want to meet up, Errmmmmm, Errmmmm, wasn’t sure, I was planning on going into town anyway, wanted to see a film, so decide to go, but defer the decision to meet up until later. I’m not really good with people, so meeting new ones is always scary and meeting people you have only exchanged a few emails with made it scarier.

Got the bus to the west end, actually a bit early and wandered though the shops that where still open (surprisingly quite a few), seemed to being going OK, barely garnered a second glance, the dark, understated looks and the cosmopolitan West End crowd all working in my favour. Started to feel comfortable and more relaxed, little things, like a smile from the cute greater in Urban Outfitters all helped. Inflated a bit by all this I decided what the hell, and headed off to Forbidden planet where F had said they would be.

Wandered around the shop a bit, saw a couple of people who could be, but wasn’t sure, was to shy to ask and to be honest they looked a bit intimidating, instead just bought some mints (yes mints, “Bitch mints - Suck on this honey”) and left the shop, stopping for a moment to look at something in the window. I was a bit late, he had probably left already, no worries, actually it was a bit of a relief. But then I hear “Helena?” I turn around and there’s one of the people I saw in the shop, man, dressed in black leather, bit of stubble, quite large, definitely masculine. Said hello and we shook hands, but his look, the limited previous perceived TG activity (pic’s, speaking about it, forum activity etc), a nagging feeling of wrongness in my head all starting ringing alarm bells. Oh shit, I couldn’t handle this, he asked if I wanted to go for a coffee and chat, but I said no, made an excuse and departed towards Leicester square. I’m paranoid, shy, not good at reading people and suspicious of their motive’s (why would anybody want to talk to me?), pretty hopeless really, this is why I don’t have many friends, his intentions where almost certainly honourable and all he wanted was a chat. I probably did the wrong thing, I’ve subsequently apologised via email.

When I’ve met other transgendered people before, (this doesn’t happen very often) I tend to try and meet people who are active on the forums and/or are well known, so I’ve seen what they are about, meet preferably as part of a group, in a safe setting (e.g. Sparkle) and prefer it if everyone dressed, as that sort of levels the playing field. Didn’t take those precautions this time, and got scared

Wandered though Leicester square, Chinatown , Shaftsbury Avenue, Piccadilly Circus and the Trocadero, bit phased, drifting a bit, window shopping and pointing my camera at things and taking pics seemed to calm me down a bit.

The Troc has changed a bit, it was Sega world when I first moved here, sort of video game theme park, but that’s been gone for a few years now and the upper levels appear to be closed off. There’s still a couple of video arcades there, and a few shops, but its all gone decidedly down market, mostly tatt for tourists now, with just a few chains. But all the crazy Sega world futuristic multi level architecture and lights are still there giving it this odd cyberpunk look, low rent market stalls selling food and jewellery populating a faded but futuristic setting. Makes for nice pictures.

Went to see that film in the end, well I was in the west end and it was on and would take my mind off things. Planet Terror, Robert Rodriguez the part of the Grindhouse double bill (well double bill in the states). Liked it, a totally stupid, funny, totally OTT pseudo lowbudget splatter fest, plus Rose McGowan swoon :). Managed to take my mind off that lecy bill, F, my tiredness and the aches for a couple of hours. It did feel more like an early 80’s direct to video Sci fi movie (complete with some cheesy synth music on the sound track) than 60’s/70’s feel of Death Proof and was a little less knowing and “Tarantino”, much more of a straightforward B movie, the added grainy film effects did seem a bit out of place though. Gore was over the top, extremely over the top, I am naturally squeamish and a bit haemophobic, blood, needles, medical procedures etc. freak me out, but when it goes this far over the top, it becomes funny not scary. Go see, have a laugh.

After the film, call decide to call it a night, it wasn’t that late, but was really too tired for anything more, so head back to Oxford Circus to get the tube home. Walk down Denman street, past Club Wotever. This night is billed a polygender/polysexual place for all, I had been given the heads up about it from someone on Flickr as a good night out, but well they where having a Goth themed night and I really wasn’t dressed for it, nor, to be honest, fit for a night clubbing. Might have to go back another day though, could be fun, though it looks a bit on the decadent side for me.

Follow Regents Street to the tube station, quick ride, grab a Chinese takeaway and back to the flat.

Weird sort of day, not the most successful really, but the whole dressing down thing seems to work, was barely noticeable among the west end glitz, a few a 2nd glances, perhaps some a mutterings but no one commented loudly on my status, people in shops reacted well, guy in Claire’s practically boomed “Would you like a basket Madam”. I reckon Claire’s Accessories know how much trannies like the shinny stuff and have a positive policy. Perhaps the oddest reaction, or more rightly, lack of reaction was when I walked past club Wotever, there where two drag queens on the door chatting to a couple of GG’s trying to talk them into coming into the club. I passed by, as far as I could tell, completely unnoticed, Perhaps I went too far with the plain Jane.

Eat my takeaway, deprincess and sleep. Sleep quite a lot really. Lie in on Sunday, when I do eventually drag myself out of bed, feel cold and a bit wounded, mostly aches and pains from the slams, but head wasn’t quite with it as well. Baked some cakes ready for a cake sale at work on Monday. My Victoria sponge was a bit poor, but the chocolate muffins came out quite well, I cheated a bit with packet mixes, but they where mostly home made. Even though not a total success, the simple act to making them made me feel a lot better and it made my flat smell nice. Go bake some cakes

The kind you find in an Accessorize store, paraphrasing Prince. Well they didn’t have any Raspberry ones, plus the red went well with the jacket. But this was later, back to the start.

Saturday again, yippee girly day, tried to recreate an outfit I saw in the window of Benetton a couple of weeks ago, shorts, boots, blouse and a jacket, didn’t look to shabby if you ask me, looked better on the mannequin though. Those shortish shorts again, and not so opaque tights. Mistake number 1, confidence had been high recently so I was getter rather bold, that was a lot of leg for daylight. Blouses never fit me right, to wide at the shoulders and thin in the middle, one I had chosen the night before was a comprise, but remembered I had this other one with a bit of stretch in it and decided to wear that instead as it fitted the waist better do give me a bit more of a figure, Mistake number 2. The Jacket should of given me the nip at the waist, if it was buttoned, but I’m the wrong shape (very long triangular, strawberry? body) for anything tailored, so wore that open. All capped of with my favourite brown boots that look so nice, but aren’t really good for walking in. No problem, take the bus.

Out into autumn sunshine, nice, was worried it would be to cold for this outfit, but no, fine, and the bus turns up in a minute. Was heading towards Bank for the DLR. Plan for the day was a trip to Docklands for a bit of shopping and photographing tall buildings (cause I like doing that) , over (actually under) the river to Greenwich for a nosy and then perhaps a boat trip. Had to change buses at Angel, bit of a wait. Lad spots me hanging around,”TRANNY” “Hey sexy man” etc and laughing with his mates, Oh well it’s going to well one of those days. Lad was wearing a tracksuit, waiting for a bus unit town, nuff said. On reflection, yes my outfit was a bit too noticeable. But the bus turns up and off to Bank, the station’s a bit of a maze, but find the DLR platform, and YES, grab the front seat in the train. No drivers on the DLR trains, they’re robots, so you can sit right at the front and see where you are going, the inner child approves.

Figured Canary Wharf would be a ghost town at the weekend, like the city with all the bankers off polishing their yachts or what ever they do on Saturdays. Not quite, its right next to the Isle of Dogs isn’t it and the shopping centre underneath is proving a draw. Start to make my way down to the shops from platform level, but 3 blokes spot me and start making a few choice comments, escape up a level into Boots. One of the blokes is carrying can of larger around at 11am, nuff said. Confidence had taken a bit of a knock now, restore some comfort level buy buying some new eye shadow (silver, different, but worth an experiment) and a pastry. Start taking a few pics now and discover the 2nd mistake. That blouse is a bit tight fitting, but it’s OK with the stretchiness, if I’m still. Reach to get an interesting a camera angle, and ping goes a button, or two (or three). This happened all day and was well, pretty embarrassing and a bit tedious, having to keep diving into corners to try and discreetly restore modesty. Opps, this blouse has now been relegated to indoor wear only. 

Wander around the shops, but not really in the mood, I’ve got more than enough clothes and the its all a bit pricey and not my look anyway, the shops do seem a bit a more aimed at the city types, they don’t, even have a New Look Though do some pepper corns in Waitrose (I’d run out), a new brown leather belt in Next to replace the one I was wearing, as it was looking a bit tired (how do you wear out a belt?) and didn’t match the boots as well, and a nice red Beret in Accessorize (US spelling!), fits too, always a problem that, girly hats and my enormous head + wig (it has to be big to contain my enormous ego), buy and put it on, I’ve got my strawberry beret now ;)  It always feels safer under a hat, dunno why, and that, and some nice attentive shop assistants (Space N.K. esp), confidence levels are going back up again, self unbuttoning blouse and chavs regardless. Find some corridors and wander off into the labyrinth, they appear to be public and nobody stops me, but they are virtually deserted. There’s this whole odd little world under Canary Wharf that’s all a bit Sci-fi. Find some quiet places to take snaps

Slightly disappointing sandwich for lunch and its out into the light again for more photos.

The sun was cooperating nicely and I reckon I got some rather good shots, in fact some of the best photo’s I’ve ever taken IMHO. The Flickr massive disagrees though and my oddly shaped legs are proving more popular, there’s no accounting for taste. Confidence levels back up now and it seems to show in the reactions, nervous sounding bloke asks me directions to the DLR station, I point the way. The odd thing was we where only about 50 metres away from it standing almost directly under the tracks… Security guard says “Hello” as I pass, besuited American guy on the phone giving directions to someone states he is just by a woman in a red beret… Take the escalator down into the tube station as it looked as if I could get an interesting photo, it didn’t come out, but spot another exit, to more shops? There’s’ a whole other mall under here I didn’t know existed. Well what’s a girl to do Lovely coat in Karen Millen, but the price, ouch, no thanks. Emerge from the mall purchase free, back into the light and head towards the DLR, snapping away.

Another group of lads sees me, one sings out the opening couple of bars to “You’re Beautiful”, until his mate points out “that’s a bloke”. Make it to South Quay DLR and after eventually finding getting the right platform (eh, there’s only 2) and the Oyster card reader, I’m on my way to Greenwich, past the gloriously named Mudchute. But get off early, at Island gardens by the river. That inner child wants to take the foot tunnel. Those pretty heels on the boots are making themselves felt, so more walking isn’t what I needed, but the inner child got its way as usual.

South of the river now. The Cutty Sark isn’t well, there was a fire earlier in the year. It’s covered in scaffolding, but you can still see a bit, all the masts and rigging appears to have all gone and the hull looks badly burnt, but a restoration projection is underway. Onwards, through, Market, nice place, lots of jewellery stalls, food looks good too, should of waited to eat until I got here. Bought carrot cake for later and some hot spiced apple juice (both where very nice). Carry on towards the park, stopping a boarding shop just to get my little snow fix. Get to the park, was thinking about going up the hill to the observatory and taking photo’s over the Meridian line, but feet say no and get there way this time. Another day perhaps.

Back towards Cutty Sark to see about a different boat. I’ve been living in London 10 years now, but have never actually been on boat down the Thames, and actually I’ve never been on boat in girl mode, so something new, feet and inner child concur and we get a ticket for the river boat to Westminster.  It’s cheaper if you have a travel card apparently, show my Oyster card (just loaded with pre pay) and that seems to suffice for a discount.

Boat is rather fun, bit chilly on the legs and the sun has gone in, but fun all the same. The light coupled with a moving boat made photography a bit tricky though, took a lot of shots, but not many came out just so.

One of the boats crew gave a rather sardonic commentary on the landmarks along the way that managed to raise a smile or two and was even a bit educational. Should of done this ages ago, would have been even nicer in the summer, but good call never the less. Even if you live in London and don’t do the tourist bit, give it a go for a laugh, and only £4.80 if you wave your Oyster at them. Even managed to pluck up the nerve to ask a tourist to take make photo (scary because it involves interaction, and trusting a stranger with my rather expensive camera, but we are on a boat so there’s no where to run), she obliges, gets a nice shot of tower bridge, but cuts off my legs. Ask another girl later on, in a different part of the boat, she’s a bit more of a photographer and she frames a full body shot.

Off the boat now feeling good, wander towards Covent Garden with a Crème Brûlée Latte (new flavour, hrmm not bad, bit too sweet perhaps). London is heaving with people, Greenwich was busy, but the West End is packed, Xmas madness appears to be starting early.

Been quite a  full day, just need to pick up some essentials before heading home, but that’s easy here, even in these shorts and silly blouse, Covent Garden is always accepting and nobody mi… “THAT GIRL’S A GEEZER” shouts a bloke by a lorry, his mates laugh and chip in with their witty comments. Sigh, keep walking, probably going to wear jeans next week. Tesco’s for food and wine, just a couple of shoe shops for a nosey, MAC for more eye shadow (a rather decadent new duo pack called M’Lady) and Forbidden planet for a DVD. As I said essentials, well if you are a tranny geek they are

Have to wait far too long for a bus, but one rattles up eventually and it’s home wards bound. My stop, it’s dark and cold now and I’m tired and footsore, get off and turn wearily on to my street and, Oh Shit, the landlady’s car is outside the building. I’m not going to wait it out this time, she is probably in one of the other flats anyway sorting something out, she won’t see me if I’m fast. Dash up the stairs, and OMFG, landlady and her husband are standing there on the 1st floor landing, duck, lift my shopping bag up to try and cover my face a bit “Hello”, “Everything all right” says the landlady as she usually does, “Yes thanks” I reply as I hurry up stairs to my flat. She can’t of failed to notice I was blonde, and wearing tights and heels, but nothing further has been said. And we are home, heart pounding, close the door behind me, safe, phew, put feet up, open wine.