This is a kind of sequel to my last but one post.
I’ve had a lot of work this last fortnight. I won’t reveal details but I work for myself in a varied field involving a lot of international contacts. Anything from French TV licencing, German motorway construction, Italian nuclear waste management, Belgian pensions, American diplomats, Canadian web design, Filipino scientists, Pakistani law. Oh, and champagne promotions and beauty product advertising. That's just in the last couple of weeks. The point is that I use my male name and credentials which have a certain profile in my field now, but can work as female from my studio or my home. Best of both worlds, in effect. And, let’s face it, business needs a bit of acumen these days so going full-time female on an official basis with all its social and professional upheavals is avoided.
But being busy hasn’t stopped me from getting out one or two evenings a week. Let’s face it, I need time away from the desk/computer/easel.
So Wednesday of last week I joined the Brick Lane Set for dinner. Gillian came to mine after work to dress and we drove there but it took ages in the London traffic and we got shot off in the wrong direction after one tiny mistake in Central London. That’s one reason why I don’t drive here any more. But we had a good evening with Rachel the Organiser Lady and her posse including Suzi, who was out for the very first time, and the glamorous Pippa. I’d also invited my friend Irene. Here we all are at the Verge Bar.
|The Brick Lane set in Verge; me, Pippa, Suzi, Rachel, Irene. Photo taken by Gillian and lent to me by Pippa.|
I’m always thrilled to be with a girl on her first trip out. It makes the occasion very special. Well done, Suzi. You are very elegant and are lovely company. Hope it’s the start of a joyous life out in this big exciting world of ours.
We went off to eat at Loco Mojito http://www.locomojito.co.uk/ where I’ve been a few times before. A Mexican that stands defiantly in a sea of Indian restaurants! Food wasn’t bad but the wine (a pinot grigio rosé) was terrible – the bottle was some bin end with a £2.99 label still stuck on it, and I won’t tell you what they charged for it! And they didn’t serve coffee. ¡Caramba! ¿No coffee in a Mexican restaurant? ¿Ees weird, no? But, to be fair, that was the only time I’ve felt slightly disappointed there.
By the way, if you clicked on the link, you’ll be amused or irritated by the music or maybe both. He he hee (Mexican style cackle).
|Us in Loco Mojito, Pippa's photo.|
Pippa and I decided the night was young and headed off to Soho. We had a drink in Escape bar, a karaoke sort of place which, truthfully, is not my thing and so I dived into Trannyshack next door, which is what Madame JoJo’s is on Wednesdays. I described my first visit to Trannyshack last summer here http://suerichmond.blogspot.co.uk/2012_06_01_archive.html
This time, as a lone girl, I was beset by Admirers, a special breed of men who love TGirls. Within moments of entering one had his paws all over me and was saying in an accent I couldn’t place, “Nice lady, come to toilet”.
Now why would I want to come with him to the toilet?
“Nice lady, come. Come to toilet. Toilet nice. I got condom.”
“No, toilet not nice.”
He looked at me in surprise: “But toilet nice!” he exclaimed as if it was a self-evident truth.
I politely declined. Apart from the fact that the toilets there are in any case cramped and inadequate, and, more to the point, that I don’t fancy that with a strange man, it somewhat dismayed me that this chat-up line was something that presumably brings him occasional success.
Then I got a drink. The barmaid rammed a block of fused ice cubes into the top of the glass with her fist. It wedged there inelegantly like an iceberg on an empty container ship. Darling, please use tongs, not the hand you handle money with. Yuck. I didn’t enjoy my drink as a result. Should’ve made her do it properly but it’s hard to concentrate when some bloke is pawing you.
So I left the bar and sat down. Bad move, as the next admirer plonked himself down next to me and grabbed my knee. “I think you have nice soft bottom” he said in his North African accent. I pointed out that that was my knee and that it was probably a bit hard. Not in the least bit put off, he continued his silver-tongued litany: “I come home with you tonight and we f***?”
Er, how about no?
He downed his beer, got up and said, “Wait, I go to toilet. I full of wee tonight.” A few minutes later he was back, having bought himself another beer, and went through the routine all over again. Hmm. Buy a girl a drink and maybe see if things improve? Nope, not on his radar.
These encounters are at once amusing and tragic, a tranny tragicomedy, the tranny shock at Trannyshack. They must get off sometimes, these admirers. But the total lack of finesse and charm is staggering. At least these two weren’t scruffy and menacing-looking like other admirers I’ve seen. My mood wasn’t helped by Pippa then bouncing in announcing, “God, the real women in this place are just gagging for it!”. Miss Dusty O, the compère, then announced a noisy T rock band and I realised my visit had not been a success. You win some, you lose some. Truthfully, the T scene is not really my thing as I prefer a normal venue like a restaurant, café, shop, pub, etc. But I’ll give Trannyshack a third visit some time and see how that goes.
As ever, I’d just missed the night bus and had to wait almost 30 minutes for the next one. I’d selected my knee-length leather skirt and mock-croc boots for the evening and they kept me warm in the chill wintry air, as well as my thick coat. Finally collapsed in bed at 3.30am and slept in all the next morning. Truthfully, I’m getting a bit too old for this!
This post is longer than I expected, so I’ll tell you about this week’s shenanigans in a new post. Thanks for reading, and I hope you had a giggle.