Uniforms: there's short, and then there's regulation micro!

On British Airways last week I noticed that the uniform is now, well, less than uniform. The hemlines vary enormously in length, the shoes in height and the tights seem to be any shade and thickness. It's obviously a change from the very strict dress code they and many airlines seem to have had in the past with everything coming from specific designer(s) and sources. My T-dar is constantly alert to changing styles (even though I often wear the same boring old stuff myself!) Frankly, airline hostess is not a job I'd ever want to do myself. Love the look, hate the job.

The other uniform style that was more uniform but in a way that worried me was all the schoolgirls in London seeming to have tiny microskirts as regulation school uniform. I cannot possibly criticise others for wearing impossibly short skirts in public without being a monster hypocrite as I have myself been seen in public in items that hardly suit women of my age (see below)! But I do worry about underage girls getting the wrong kind of attention given the troubles in that regard at my own school. Maybe that's just my bad experience talking. But I hope today's teenagers are safe. Yes, I firmly believe anyone should wear what they want and be left in peace to do so but, sadly, realities are what they are. 

As I waited for a bus on a typical June morning in London, where a cold thin wind blew the drizzle about, the schoolgirl on the hard slanting seat next to mine at the shelter shivered in her regulation microskirt, goosebumps at attention. Personally, I've never once worn a skirt without tights but, anyway, this bare-leg microskirt look seems to be the norm among the uniformed young in the UK whatever the weather. Good luck.

My final observation is that UK female police and nurse uniforms are pretty universally geared to trousers. Practical, no doubt, but maybe my British friends can now enlighten me, since I haven't seen British TV for years, as to what British comedy is doing now without emergency service staff in short uniforms and stockings? That was once a staple of British comedy. 

 

A dip in the archives 

I go short in public (or: nice legs, shame about the face):

 

 

Crazy hair and crazy tights

Sue x

A case full of lace

 I got back home yesterday with two very large suitcases, one of which had my everyday boring fem clothes and the other had all sorts of cute and fun stuff. 

I selected the second caseful from out of the 18 boxes of girl clothes in my deposit in London. Those boxes contain everything from winter coats to summer bikinis but unexpected things can happen when you open them. Previously a gel-filled bra exploded, but this time a bizarre pair of extra-extra frilly knickers with more lace than pant, that were made specially for me by a fan of such items, frothed and floated to the top of the lingerie box. Since the friend who made them has now transitioned and may well be embarrassed at her previous frilly knicker phase, I won't describe them further but I brought them home in case there's some cosplay project that might use them. I've no idea what!

But it was good to pick up some favourite skirts, and the much-loved dress I wore in Scotland last year, several pairs of very sheer tights for summer as well as some fancy hosiery, a never-worn burlesque ra-ra skirt, red with black lace, for party times (or if I fulfil my showgirl dreams) - pictured below -, comfy leggings, tops, lingerie, and fun accessories, including the elbow-length spider-web gloves and matching tights I missed for my Hallowe'en outfit last year but which went down a storm at the Magic Ballroom. 

I also found a pretty black lace bra and panty set that I had totally forgotten I bought and is so comfortable that I cannot believe I forgot all about it. 

Very pretty and really comfortable to wear

My case also contained lots of new lingerie and nightwear I bought - I do recommend Marks & Spencer for such items. Yes, I have far too many things, I know, but they do get worn, and worn out. I threw away a pair of cream-coloured high-heeled sandals that were scuffed and coming unstuck in parts. It's a pity as I have fond memories of wearing those in summer, often at the Sparkle national trans celebration, but what's broken needs to go.

Gone but not forgotten

 

You may think a whole case of pretty clothes excessive given the cost of luggage on airlines these days, but I dress every day and stuff that I know and love is precious to me so I'm happy with that.

I have something to say about airline uniforms and about very short skirts and I know those are subjects of great interest to many, but I'm still tired from the trip so I'll close here and discuss those topics another time. Have a great weekend.

Sue x 

Facing

 I've been internet-free for a week and it's actually been good not to have the endless dismal news and usual messages to deal with. I've been travelling and dealing with legal and administrative things. 

More on the interesting and trans aspects of my travels when I have more time but I'm posting briefly today because I managed to see the sculpture currently on the Fourth Plinth in London's famous Trafalgar Square. I wrote about this under the subheading "Art (1)" here last autumn. Despite all the anti-trans activities of current and past UK governments, there in London's main square is a vast tribute to trans people made from hundreds of clay masks of their faces, including one of my friend Grace whom I have seen on this trip. She thinks hers is on the side facing the National Gallery (photo 1). 

Round the corner, the National Portrait Gallery has a huge poster outside of award-winning artist Grayson Perry as his feminine alter ego, Claire. 

Trans visibility could hardly be more visible. 

Here are my photos:

Click to enlarge

My trip to the UK ends next Wednesday.

Sue x 

A place to think

 I have a special place where I go to have a think. Big thinks, like: should I change career? should I buy this house? and the like. My own thinking space happens to be Salisbury cathedral close because it's green, quiet and inspiring. Sitting on a bench by the lichen-encrusted wall looking at the cathedral spire soaring up into the blue is the place I go to to gather my thoughts far away from my normal busy environment. Although I don't even live in England any more, I found it cathartic to come here during my latest trip and sit and have a think. 

Salisbury Cathedral 2025 from my favourite bench in the close. Built very fast for a medieval cathedral, between 1220 and 1258, it benefits from having a uniform style. The exquisite spire, the tallest in the British Isles at 404 feet (123 m), is a landmark for miles. The cathedral close, full of ancient houses and green spaces behind a high wall, is still locked at night, and is quiet and peaceful by day even when full of visitors. An inspiring place.

 

Sadly, although I brought a small case of skirts and dresses, I had a lot of appointments that I had to do in male mode as that is still my official reality and so I wasn't able to get time out as Sue.

I did, however, have time for a delicious Thai dinner with one of the first trans women I ever met, Chrissie, who is looking beautiful and very feminine a decade or so after her surgery. Chrissie was one of the girls I accompanied to Charing Cross Gender Clinic when I first started going out publicly to see if formal transition was right for me. It was for her; for me the decision is still pending ...

Also sadly, I wasn't here when the local trans group had their monthly meeting but the Wig & Quill where they are said to gather is a very nice old pub with outstanding food. I also enjoyed the New Inn with its beautiful, secluded garden, and the Rose & Crown right opposite the flat I rented, with its terrace on the river. British pubs are much improved from what they once were - just places to drink warm beer - now that they serve food, allow dogs and even children, and no one smokes any more.

The lovely flower-filled, tree-lined garden at the New Inn, Salisbury

 

The garden of the Rose & Crown backing onto the River Avon

One thing that amuses locals and might also please my readers is the fact that the bishop's robing room for grand ceremonies is now in a women's boutique. We know that secretly great men can't resist slipping into something long and flowing, right?

 

I also confirmed what I have felt for a long time: that Britain is a grossly expensive place. I mean, not just house prices and travel costs as always, but now even everyday food, goods and services, especially after Brexit and Covid. As for tourist things, let me give you two examples. 

In the 1990s-2000s I used to go to Salisbury a lot and enjoyed going  up the cathedral tower. You would meet the guide under the crossing and pay him two or three pounds and climb up the 330 steps and enjoy the view from the top. Today you have to buy a ticket that costs twenty-four pounds! For the privilege of climbing stairs. 

A friend once went to the nearby ancient monument of Stonehenge and photographed a toy dinosaur in a way that made it look like it was eating the stones. So I thought I'd do the same. But just to get the bus to Stonehenge costs twenty pounds and the entry fee is thirty. Fifty pounds per person (!!!) to go see a ruin that you can see just as well from the road. The explanation for the high price is given by English Heritage, who manage the site, as the cost of maintaining a major monument. Look, Stonehenge has been a ruin for over 2000 years; in the 18th century the local inn rented chisels so tourists could chip a piece off the monument as a souvenir. What precisely are you maintaining now, English Heritage? I first went to Stonehenge when I was six and you could wander freely among the stones for a few pence. Now you can't get near and they charge you a fortune. This sort of cynical ripoff is one of the worst traits of British officialdom.

So here's my disappointed dinosaur terrorising Salisbury Cathedral visitors instead. Entertainment for free!

 

Anyway, the decision I made was to retire permanently abroad now, where I've been since 2018 anyway. The quality of life, the climate, the costs, the food and the less toxic politics count for a lot in that decision. I've closed a couple of UK bank accounts whilst here and will be rewriting my will under Italian law. I'll still write a trans blog for English speakers but I'll be trying to see my many friends and family in the UK before the change becomes permanent. I say this but with the world in a chaotic mess now it's hard to know if any plans can work properly, but that's the idea anyway.

Still, I was lucky with the weather, as you can see. 

Next stop, the beautiful city of Bath.

Sue x

Successful surgery, and Cleopatra's beauty regime

 Just checking in to my blog briefly to say that I flew into London on Monday and saw a friend of mine after her gender surgery. It was a total but wonderful coincidence that the trip I planned months ago was at the same time that Roz got called in for her operation.

After landing at London City Airport (and there are some spectacular photos below of Nice's Bay of Angels and London's Tower Bridge as we pivoted round the Shard skyscraper) I checked in at my hotel which happened to be just a few miles from where Roz was recovering. I arranged to see her early evening with Grace who lives in the area. 

I'm pleased to say that Roz looked well, said the op had gone to plan, her daughter Ele was with her and we had a nice catch-up as I hadn't seen her since last year in Scotland. 

Her gender clinic is on the edge of Wimbledon Common and as we are of a certain age there was a lot of reminiscing about the Wombles, too, who were a cultural phenomenon of 1970s Britain and the "Keep Britain Tidy" campaign. Small furry creatures who did meet, though, were Roz's ubiquitous Beaver and Ele's Topsy the Triceratops whom I introduced to my Lugubrious Crab from Monaco who is accompanying me on this trip. It might cheer him up! I won't post a photo of Roz in bed in her hospital gown but she looked well. Instead here she is at my home with Beaver in 2022.

 

Hospital visitors 2025

 

I brought Roz some presents from the Riviera, including characteristic soap from Nice that's made of asses' milk, just like Cleopatra used for her beauty regime! 

 

Well done, Roz, and wishing you a full, successful recovery at home.

Grace and I went on to Putney for an evening meal. At the Prince of Wales pub - and I have thought carefully before making this bold statement - I had the best plate of fish and chips I have ever had in my life. It was perfect - and proof that British food if done well can be really good. 

So that was a wonderful start to my trip to the UK.

Here is the Bay of Angels in the sunshine as we climbed out of Nice airport ...

 

... and here we pivot round the Shard in Central London towering over London Bridge Station, with museum warship HMS Belfast in the River Thames, Tower Bridge centre left, the Docklands skyscrapers and Isle of Dogs in the background, and the Thames estuary in the distance. An amazing view.

 

I'm in South West England now for the next couple of weeks. More on that next time. Skirts have been packed ...

Sue x

Broken heels

 No politics, just practical feminine dressing today.

The bottoms of my heels keep disintegrating on my floor.

It's a very hard floor indeed, made of ceramic stoneware (grès) but not much harder than a pavement, and I have pounded pavements and all that's ever happened to my heels is that they have worn down and needed re-heeling by the cobbler. One favourite pair of boots I had re-heeled four times I used them that much.

Here my heels have literally crumbled away suddenly, disintegrating in a matter of minutes into small lumps of plastic/rubber. This has happened three times now, the latest time being a pair of black pumps. Prior to that it was a pair of pink open-toed shoes and before that a hard-wearing, quite pricey and much-loved pair of ankle boots. The latter two had their original hard plastic heel tips but this latest crumble is on what I think is a rubber replacement heel and you can see its partner is just about to go, too.

 

I'm holding the pink ones on the floor and you can see that it's porcelain moulded to resemble maple boards.

I wondered if storage over the years might be the issue but it's not as though any of them have been subject to extremes of cold, heat, humidity or anything unusual and they were all bought at different times. The pumps were cheap, the others less so. I can understand that plastic, not leather or rubber, might have a certain shelf life.

So I'm puzzled as to why this issue has arisen only in my latest home. My previous homes had carpets not rock-hard floors so that's why I assume it's the floor. Though it does seem excessive.

Any ideas? Anyone else experienced the same?

 

Another delivery

News just in, about an hour after I posted. My lovely and beloved friend Roz had her GRS today and has just texted me to say she's awake and fed and waiting her all-important coffee. I'm teary now but they're happy tears for her. 

Happy re-birthday, dear Roz. 

Sue x

Trans+ History Week

 It's Trans+ History Week and trans people have had a very long history and will have a very long future, too. Trans deniers will do anything to overlook the fact that we have always existed but, try as you might to deny it, it's rather obvious that trans people have popped up everywhere, in every age, clime, culture and demographic. The trans conveyor keeps delivering. 

I have an especial interest in ancient and in early modern history and I have cited many examples of trans people, some from centuries ago, like Archduke Ludwig Viktor of Austria (1842-1919), or from millennia ago, like Roman Emperor Elagabalus (204-222), and even from legendary times. You can find many of these by clicking the History label from the list on the right.

 

Keep being fabulous.

Sue x

Worried about a trip to Britain

 I am going back to Britain the week after next, as I have done every six months since the pandemic ended, but I am very uneasy about it. The crass political situation there makes me sick and the anti-trans court ruling the other week makes me more determined than ever to remove my remaining personal belongings from there and complete settling in Italy. The same sort of sentiment regards my family whom I will be seeing but whose bigotry gets worse with time. The trouble is, any pensions I am due all come from Britain so I'll never be shot of the craziness and failure there, nor the loss in their value because of the low rate of the pound sterling they will be paid in. I was hoping to go out fully dressed when there but now I'm not feeling it. Not at present anyway. We'll see how I feel when I'm there. On the positive side, I will be seeing friends, too, including one who is having her surgery. I expect there will be some nice things to report back about my meetups.

[Add: I've just had a comment from Dee Williams, one of my very oldest trans friends whom I first met on my very first time out as Sue. Dee lives in South West England now and she's just started a blog, The Other Side of Life, which I have also added to my blogroll. She too is worried about some of the items I mentioned here.] 

You'll notice that I'm increasing my contact with other trans sisters in Europe and I've recently added Carla's blog (Pink Fog - Trans in Spain) to the list on the right. Carla is an English girl living in Spain. 

Other European TGirl blogs I recommend include Violetta's beautiful blog (Violetta Arden's World - this week she's walking in Austrian pastures) and Franzi's classy blog (Franziska Out and About) about crossdressing and culture in Germany.

I'd also like to mention a male friend in Portugal, also British originally, who's been a great trans ally and we've both supported each other in settling in Europe, but he has been struggling on and off with cancer for some years and I'm worried about him. Treatment works for a bit and he gets some respite and then it's back. I've lost so many friends to cancer these last four years that it's like the Grim Reaper has been flicking through my address book for ideas. 

And a shout out to poor trans woman Jen of travel vlog Jen on the Move who has suffered a stroke. I really hope she makes a good recovery.

I mention all these worrying things because my trans positivity resolutions at the moment include giving as much encouragement to other trans people as I can. If not in person, then online. There are so many trans people sharing their lives in one way or another on social media and with the attacks on our community at present I can't help feeling that even the smallest like or thumbs-up or share or encouraging comment can go a long way to helping each of us continue to live authentically and know that there's support out there.

The stats here on Blogger tell me quite clearly that my political posts are not as popular as posts about trans clubs, pretty clothes and girls meeting up so I will be getting back to the more popular themes of trans life. I have not been able to overlook the awful situation that the world is in this past month and its effects on our community as it makes me ill even to think about it. But something lighter hearted and more beautiful is needed and I'll be aiming to deliver that.

Pretty purple and pink chive flowers in my herb garden

 

Look after yourselves, dear sisters, and help one another.

Sue x

Lipsticks for lunch, and the 100-days interview

I was privileged to be given an exclusive interview with the president this week. 

(What do you mean, "which president?") 

The following transcript was found in a bathroom at the new official US presidential residence at Mar-a-Lunko, alongside state secrets.

HENCHMAN: Mr President, there's a Ms Richmond to see you.

47: Who?... Is she hot?

HENCHMAN: Well, if you asking if she looks like Ivanka, I guess not.

47: Oh. Well, that's sad. So sad. Richmond, huh? Is she rich? I'm rich.

HENCHMAN: I don't know, Sir. She wants to interview you. Apparently, you've just boosted their ratings or something.

47: Terrific. I do that. I'm a mutual aid kind of guy. Everybody says so. OK, send her in.

RICHMOND: Hello, Mr President. Thank you for your valuable time away from the golf course. I'm here to thank you for your genius policies.

47: I'm a very stable genius. Everybody says so.

RICHMOND: Well, simply put, and I'll keep it simple for you, Donald, just how you like it: not everyone likes your policies, and by everyone I mean everyone in the world, except your MAGA fans, of course.

47: Great guys, my MAGA fans. They're the majority. Huge majority. The polls say it. I'm a great believer in democracy and majority rule. The rest of the world are just a minority. That's logic. So people who don't like my po-li-cies are just nasty. Sad losers. So sad.

RICHMOND: Well, I'm a great believer in democracy, too. It's great when we can all agree with you.

47: Totally. All the great people agree with me. Like you do ... You're hot, by the way. Not a 10, but you can work on it.

RICHMOND: Why, thank you, Donald. Between you and me, confidentially, do you think I'd look better as a blonde? I hope you don't mind my asking but I hear you're experienced with women.

47: Totally. Women thank me for my advice. They all do. Blonde is hot. 

RICHMOND: That's great to know, from an expert like you. Your wife Melania isn't blonde, though, but she must be "hot", too, right?

47: Not as hot as Ivanka. 

RICHMOND: Well, it sounds like a pity that American law doesn't let you marry your own daughter. But I'm sure you can change that. A quick Executive Order, maybe?

47: Sure. I'm good at those. ...You'd look hotter if you were blonde. Oh, and lose the glasses. 

RICHMOND: Your advice is invaluable, Mr President. I'll bear it in mind. And another day I'll ask you about how to achieve great hair and makeup. Before I get down to the interview proper ... how can I put this? Do you, er, need a diaper change? It's kind of stuffy in here.

47: You want to change my diapers? Everybody does. 

RICHMOND: I'm sure you have many sycophants to do that for you, Mr President.

47: What's sick-o-pants? 

RICHMOND: Brown-nosers, Mr President.

47: Sure. I have those. Lots. Great guys. What did you want to tell me about my great presidency? That there's never been a greater presidency?

RICHMOND: There's certainly never been a presidency like it, Donald. I think the whole world agrees on that. You'll recall that Italy recently sent its prime minister, Ms Meloni, to see you. Did you like her? She's blonde and wears the latest fashions and her name translates into English as Miss Melons. And she said she wanted to work with you to make the West great again. What did you think of Miss Melons' call to greatness?

47: Well, she had great melons, I'll say that. Huge.

RICHMOND: *Sigh* It's the answer I predicted. 

47: I'm very predictable. Everybody says so.

RICHMOND: Sure you are. And your position hasn't changed for at least an hour, and we're all very impressed by that. But really I just wanted to come here and thank you. You see, when you and your friends, like Mr Putin and Mr Orban and Mr Kim - funny how they all seem to be guys - all punch down on vulnerable people, like - oh, I don't know - transgender people, say, then all the rest of the free world associates your transphobia with madness, incompetence, dictatorship, repression and randomness and starts to feel sympathy for and support those vulnerable people. So at the end of the day, when the psycopathy of Putin has finally exhausted Russia, as it seems to be doing, and the madness of the Kims has finally starved the people of North Korea, and the narcissism of Orban has finally ruined Hungary, and maybe you've finished wrecking US hegemony and our trust in it just to save your gigantic yet fragile ego from the penalties of due legal process, everyone else will associate state-sponsored transphobia with the all lunacy, failure, criminality and violence that emanates from you and your chums and be more inclined to protect trans people from what they know to be overarchingly wrong, from that chaos that has caused them significant economic, socio-political and military difficulties.

47: Too many big words. I don't use big words.

RICHMOND: I'm sorry, Donald. I mean, trans people may be suffering now, but we will be stronger and more protected when you and your friends are done. 

47: You are fake news!

RICHMOND: Thank you from Sue's News and Views. This is Sue Richmond reporting from the new US presidential residence at Mar-a-Lunko. ...And you really do need a diaper change now, Mr President.

 

This is Sue Richmond, your roving reporter, with the latest political news ...

 

Lipsticks for lunch, or: learn languages with Sue

There were various items to buy that I couldn't get locally so I headed to the nearest big town. By the time I'd done my shopping I was hungry and decided to stop and have lunch at a really nice restaurant which French day-trippers choose to eat at because, let's face it, the French know decent food. 

I chose rossetti. These are a tiny transparent species of goby that these days replace bianchetti, which are the fry (babies) of sardines and anchovies that it's currently illegal to catch as stocks are low. Bianchetti means "little white ones" and rossetti means "little red ones". Rossetti also means "lipsticks" in Italian, because they're also little and red, and let's just say that when you're a trans girl these things kind of buzz round your mind all the time, so how could I resist ordering them? 

Each no more than an inch long, and cooked in lemon vapour, they are very delicate and make an ideal starter. 

Or you can colour your lips with them. Hey, no judgment.

Sue x 

Liberation

 Today is Liberation Day and it is important for me ... and, I hope, for you, too. It's 80 years to the day since axis forces surrendered in Italy and dictatorship and occupation ended. It's a public holiday. 

I went to the ceremonies in Sanremo and joined the mayor and local townspeople, veterans and partisans organisations, civic and military personnel, and the town band, to commemorate liberty, democracy, the rule of law, human rights and those who fought for them. There were hundreds of us and I was pleased to see so many young families, teenagers and students, not just us - ahem - older folks. 

At the war memorial

The Resistance here liberated much of this region before allied forces arrived. It's not exactly tank country, after all, with its steep, broken landscape. Partisans could be anyone: communists, monarchists, anarchists, nationalists, catholics, atheists, policemen, army deserters, shepherds, professors, engineers, women, men, boys... One thing all these disparate beliefs and people held in common was that fascism, dictatorship and repression are the common enemy of humanity. The crowd today reflects that broad swathe of people and beliefs. I see national flags, peace symbols, partisan neckscarves, civic banners, military caps, councillors in sashes, civilians in jeans ... a fluffy dog barks along to that defining partisan song, Bella Ciao.

At the memorial to the victims of the 1943 Cephalonia massacre.

My grandfathers fought, too, and this was also my personal commemoration of their sacrifices. (More on their amazing experiences below.) And my hope that freedom to live one's own life will not be crushed again. There's too much whiff of fascism in the air again now, and in nations that ought to know better.

The parade moves down the high street, Via Matteotti, named after the leader of the opposition to Mussolini in parliament who was murdered in 1924.

 

We end at the memorial to the resistance where the mayor gives a speech quoting Italo Calvino, one of the twentieth century's foremost writers, who was brought up in Sanremo and described his time as a teenage partisan here in his first novel. (I recommend the book.) Students read passages of poetry, prose, letters from death row; representatives of the national partisan organisation and the Alpine Corps remind us why we do this, that resistance continues every day, that calls to treat this as the last commemoration by today's fascists (they still exist, incredibly) cannot be accepted as we are surrounded by monuments to the random reprisals and executions of the past, and that wars, dictatorships and brutality continue today. We're standing outside the very fort built 300 years ago not to protect the town but to repress local rebellion. Its cannons point into the city centre.

Memorial to the resistance, with today's commemorative wreath.

 

The ceremony over, I go into the fort. It's free today. There are the cells where criminals were held, but also political prisoners. There's a photo exhibition on about migrants, people fleeing civil war in Syria or poverty in Subsaharan Africa. They're being shouted at by cops, trying to jump onto lorries passing frontiers, drowning in the sea, shivering in bombed-out buildings... This is why we commemorate and celebrate liberty and fight cruelty and brutality.

A fleeing mother holds her child close under a thermal blanket. This photo is recent, but the image, sadly, is timeless.

 

What my grandfathers told me

I had a grandfather who flew as a hobby. When war came, his business was bombed. Out of work and already trained, he joined the air force and rose to senior rank planning airborne invasions: Sicily, D-Day, Arnhem ... I have a significant piece of Pegasus Bridge memorabilia that commemorates his finest hour. Not content with victory in Europe, he went and joined his brother in the British Indian Army who was fighting the Japanese.

"Defy the beast," he would always say. "Whoever tries to crush liberty and humanity needs to be stopped. I lost my livelihood and six years of my life, but I wasn't going to lose my freedom or that of my family to those who ignore the rule of law. Decency, fair play and liberty are paramount."

My other grandfather was a type of policeman who specialised in corporate and tax fraud. Serious enough work for him and his unit to be issued sidearms. He ended up on the wrong side of the lines, in Milan, where axis forces cleared out on this day in 1945. Because he and his colleagues were the only officials left who had guns, they were given a vague order to "hold the city". Against whom? That wasn't specified. Three days later the partisans entered bearing the dead bodies of Mussolini, his mistress and some henchmen, whom they strung up in Piazzale Loreto. My grandfather swapped his uniform for civilian clothes and went to see the upside-down man who'd himself turned so many lives upside down. He criticised the partisans for allowing the crowd to abuse the bodies, thus providing fascist sympathisers ever after with notions of martyrdom. (Piazzale Loreto has been remodelled from big green square to ugly roundabout, with new buildings over the site of the hangings. This is deliberate so as to obliterate a site of pilgrimage.) After US troops entered the city, he was able to reveal that, despite his official position, he'd been working for the resistance.

As a financial expert, my grandfather always viewed fascists as con men, who rose to power through deception and manipulation, not through righteousness, hard graft and love of the common good as claimed. That bogus image of uprightness was part of the fraud. How apt that the fraudster-in-chief was himself upended.

What is fascism?

It is said that Mussolini's son Bruno once asked over an evening meal, "Dad, what exactly is fascism?" To which the Duce replied, "Shush and eat your dinner."

Academic and writer, Umberto Eco (best known for his 1980 novel The Name of the Rose, made into a 1986 film with Sean Connery) wrote a short essay, Ur-Fascism, that sums it up well. You can read it in English for free here or summarised on Wiki here. Tradition, paranoia, conflict, machismo and crushing of the weak are significant elements, but to me this line of Eco's sums up fascism best: "Fascism was a fuzzy totalitarianism, a collage of different philosophical and political ideas, a beehive of contradictions." That's the impression I get, too. Fascism collects the fears and failings of life's losers and pretends that they are collective strength; it is weak men's ideas of what strong men are. The fact that all these disparate outlooks may contradict one another is irrelevant, and is indeed what gives fascism its power; as both its adherents and enemies try to fathom meaning from this random mix of contradictions, it is busy bashing them all, perpetually. Orwell's famous 1984 "boot stamping on a human face for ever". 

Do you see any close logical ties between apocalyptic Christianity, billionaire capitalism, gun culture, unsolicited dick pics and deep-state conspiracy theory? No? That's OK, Trumpism provides a safe umbrella for them all to thrive under. That's fascism, just like the disparate values of conservative Catholicism, vorticist and futurist art movements that glorified aggression and the force of will, middle-class moneyspinning, hedonistic poetry, Roman history, socialism and military nostalgia were all grist to Mussolini's mill. For Hitler, Jews were both communist conspirators and capitalist plotters. Apparently simultaneously. Go figure. TERFs demand a UK court to define women, but not men, despite the feminist programme to seek equality. That's fascist contradiction, too. 

I've fought this shit all my life. I've reported aggressive and harassing Christofascists to the police; I've assisted getting violent, sexually brutal teachers jailed; I've reported and successfully sued overbearing bosses; I've removed transphobes and racists from my life with and without ceremony; I've assisted people get justice against conmen, exploitation and fraudsters, and against violent partners; I've voted and encouraged others to vote against dishonest politics; I moved to the European Union as I saw human rights in the United Kingdom stamped on... They're all types of fascism, oppression and brutality, and all from the same terrified narcissistic type of person who cannot bear that the false public narrative that hides their shame, phobias, loss or incompetence be exposed. The sheer amount of resilience needed to live in this world of false narratives sickens me. This is why I got up early to go to the ceremonies today. And because I want to live as a free person in this hostile world as best I can and as others tried to before me.

German playwright Bertolt Brecht reminded us in the last line of his 1941 Nazi parody "parable" play, The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui, why we do this: "The womb he [i.e. Ui/Hitler] came from is still going strong".

Thanks for reading. Stay safe and free and legal.

Sue x

A pro-trans pope?

 There's a phrase in Italian, morto un papa se ne fa un altro - when a pope dies you just create another one. I.e. life goes on for the rest of us and no individual ever really makes waves.

Inevitably, the papers here in Italy are are full of little other than the death of Pope Francis yesterday. Even the Sports supplement dedicates its first nine pages to the pope's love for the beautiful game. I didn't bother checking if he was into boxing, too, or maybe enjoyed a round of darts, pint in hand. It smacks a bit of journalistic desperation when you try to link world events to your usual news fare. 

But anyway, there'll be a new pope soon. Will he be more open to trans people or be the usual repressive? This past one was supposedly more receptive to LGBT rights, saying sexuality was less important than other issues like war or poverty, but then going and making some ambiguous and pretty anti-LGBT comments, too. Fundamentally, I don't think the Catholic church can ever be pro-LGBT, it's just a question of how directly anti they may become in future. 

None of the Abrahamic religions - Judaism, Christianity or Islam - are into equal status for women. They're all into male dominance. Just ask an Afghan, an Iranian ... or an American from the Bible Belt. As you'd expect from religions deriving from the Fertile Crescent, fertility (whether crops, lambs or babies) is paramount and anything that reduces that productivity - like being gay - is to be rejected. Besides, gentile/pagan/infidel religions often have transgender/eunuch priests, and you mustn't copy anything that lot do. 

A change in attitude in the Vatican therefore seems unlikely to me. Most I have heard from the Catholic church about being trans is that it's just a variant of being gay. And that since Christianity (and Islam) are spread by preaching, that's how people get to be trans and gay - because someone persuaded them to be. Gimme a break!

I don't expect a change, therefore, just that transphobia may be more or less vocal with the next guy in the Vatican. That's right, the guy in the white frock, with lace sleeves on Sundays!

Pardon my cynicism but I am actually one of the few people who has actually taken the trouble to read all the Bible, the Koran, and many other holy texts and therefore I don't hold any hope for understanding between leaders of these religions and trans people. 

(By the way, my experience as young person was that ministers of these religions were often violent men addicted to punishment and physical assault, and to demanding respect rather than earning it. This for me has always tainted their claims that their religions bring peace, love, mercy and understanding. Your mileage may vary.)

 

The good stuff

As ever, Elle magazine is always for us and this week Elle Italia carries an interview with author Lucy Sante who explains how trans people are now the US government's official scapegoat.

I note that many of the general political vloggers and bloggers I follow, none of whom have ever mentioned trans matters before, are all roundly condemning the UK Supreme Court's anti-trans ruling last week. Allies emerge when official justice chooses injustice.

On the same subject, I'd like to say that, although I left the UK in 2018 to seek a new life in warmer climes for the sake of my health, and life where human rights are still valued and protected for the sake of my freedom, what happens in my former country still affects me as I haven't cut ties with my many friends there. So I'd like to thank and praise UK bloggers Clare, Jonathan and Lynn for making a public stand against this ruling at very short notice last weekend. I know others of my friends like Tania were out there, too. Bless you.

Stay safe and beautiful all of you. 

I end with a photo I took yesterday of my friend and lodger Mrs Collared Dove who has lived on my home for years with her husband. She likes to rest on my railings and I enjoy her company.

 

Mr Dove will often come and join her there, where they can be seen grooming each other, chatting, sharing a kiss or just sitting snuggled together enjoying the sunset. A lovely loving couple. I snapped the pair of them previously:

 

Sue x

Queer movie, soggy bunny, and liberation

 I haven't been to the cinema since 2018. Moving to another country and Covid restrictions are the main reason for that. Also the cinemas here have an infuriating habit of changing their movies and show times daily so you never really know what's on. But I was shopping the other day, saw that Daniel Craig's Queer was on just as I was passing a cinema and dived in out of the rain. I was interested to see how Craig is moving away from his Bond role. 

I hate James Bond. To me he epitomises all that is wrong both with masculinity and with the world order. But here's an actor associated with all that now playing a gay man in 1950s Mexico cruising the bars looking for some action but usually going home empty-handed and drunk and consoling himself with cocaine or heroin. In the end he gets off with a young bi man who flits between him and a girl but whom he persuades to join him in South America where he plans to experiment with ayahuasca, an experience that does not, in the end, go well. 

A slow-burn motion picture lasting over two hours with more emotion than motion. It's sexually explicit - a middle-class porn film almost. The queerness of the title refers as much to the frequent dream sequences where we either gain a vision of the character's desires or accompany him on his drug-fuelled trips. Even Mexico City by night is a somewhat misty dreamscape. Based on a novella by William S Burroughs, this was interesting though not outstanding, the emotional story being told as much through facial expression as action. I think Craig was not bad - he plays quite a good drunk, although the gurning at young men is less convincing. Not bad either is his attractive co-star, Drew Starkey. And Lesley Manville was interesting as a mad anthropologist. I admire her for being a mature actress who isn't scared of close-ups of her facial imperfections. The anachronistic soundtrack jarred, though. 

Sue's Reviews gives three and a bit stars. Wishing Danial Craig well in getting other roles that display more versatility than thuggish Bond. And I'm all for in-your-face LGBT themes in this day and age.

A pansy star photographed in San Marino last week. Queer gets three and a bit pansy stars.

 

Rain

It never stops raining. For a location that boasts 300 days of sunshine a year, I think we've had enough wet, grey days since autumn to last the rest of the decade. Torrential rain yesterday brought quite a bit of damage. I'm thankful to the kind motorist who slowed down as he drove through our flooded road so he didn't splash me. Pedestrians appreciate thoughtful motorists. 

Monday is a public holiday and traditionally it's barbecue day in Italy. I have some bunny burgers (a local speciality) and I have my fingers crossed for a dry day. I pity the hotels and beach bars that have seen low bookings for this weekend that opens the summer season.

 

Liberation

Next Friday, April 25th, is also a public holiday in Italy. It's Liberation Day that commemorates the surrender of axis forces in the Italian theatre of World War II. This year is the 80th anniversary and I plan to join the parades and report back. Given that this week transphobia was enshrined in the Hungarian constitution and a court ruling in the UK creates similar difficulties, the fight against fascism and hate never ends. I was raised by a fascist and I'd hope to offer some thoughts on combating that political attitude based on my personal experience and on advice from my grandfathers who fought the fascists last time round.

Sue x

A trans-eye view of San Marino

 Last week I spent a couple of days in the Most Serene Republic of San Marino and it was lovely. If its peacefulness at night is any way of judging, then serene is a good description. It was stunning, the views breathtaking. 

I went for two reasons. I'm curious to see the 7 small European states, taking inspiration from Gina’s Interrail trip two years ago (here). I also wanted to investigate its queer culture, if any, and, of course, its food and drink. I’m also fascinated by political geography and constitutional arrangements, too.  

You’ll recall I went to tiny Monaco in February (here). San Marino is a bit bigger, although it’s still the fifth smallest country in the world in terms of both population and area (34,000 and 61 sq km). It claims to be the oldest continuously independent state in the world, though it’s not quite clear when it could really claim sovereign independence as opposed to just autonomy. Let’s just say it’s been running its own affairs since the Middle Ages and has never lost that: Napoleon didn’t touch them, nor the unification of Italy; only World War II saw bombing and occupation by allied forces despite its neutrality.

The location is incredible: Mount Titano dominates the surrounding land, peaking at 750m (2500 ft), with a sheer outcrop up to 200m (650 ft) high on which the capital is built with its three defining forts.

 

Needless to say the views from the top are breathtaking, with the Apennine mountains south and west, and the plain of Romagna and the Adriatic Sea stretching away east and north. Here are some amazing views.

This is a trans blog so let’s talk about stuff of direct interest to trans people. I stayed in the pleasant Hotel Cesare on the heights of San Marino city and, yes, I did choose this room because of the pink bathroom tiles! 

Although its gay rights are progressive (homosexuality was decriminalised as early as 1865), and they even had the world's first openly gay head of state in 2022, there's never been a Pride event there and there are few specific trans rights. Amazingly, almost the first person I saw on arrival was a British trans woman on a bench on her phone. Now it’s always tempting for one trans woman to try to engage another: “Hi! You’re trans and I’m trans so, hey, we could like totally hang out and do trans stuff together!” But no, we do not do this. We don’t interrupt people on phone calls either. So, blonde British trans lady with phone, I hope you had a nice visit to San Marino. It’s full of young people, school trips and the like, so I’m sure it’s a safe place for TGirls who want to go out dressed. I remained in my everyday andro mode.

Two other things of possible trans interest were in the cabinet of curiosities. (My Lonely Planet guide sees the weird museums as a highlight of San Marino, i.e. museums of vampires and werewolves, waxworks and illusions, among others; the cabinet of curiosities is particularly recommended.) Here are 18th-century wig spectacles that attach under your wig and therefore can’t fall off, and (behind) a wig stand and basin for hanging your outsize wig à la Marie Antoinette. You fill the basin with water and this stops mice and insects from climbing into it. I think both these items are a must have!

This lady with the smallest waist ever is merely aspirational!

As for this item for ladies who need to deal with gentlemen who get too close, I'd say it's a must for any trans club with admirers in!

Although I also wonder if it wasn't on loan from the werewolf museum!

The rest of this entry is about history, constitution and food.

As an independent state it has all the trappings of government, just very tiny, like in Monaco: the government house with chambers for its Council of 60 and its Council of 12, the tiny ministry buildings, the tiny embassies and military HQ, the tiny museums …

The Parliament House

The Chamber of the Council of 60

The Ministry of the Environment. San Marino has all the ministries any other country has, but they're all about this size.

All very cute, but it works.

I enjoyed the local food very much. Where I live, on the coast near the French border, the emphasis is on fish; here, though, it’s meat and I enjoyed cappelletti (like ravioli) in broth, home made and excellent, meatballs in tomato sauce with quantities of roast potatoes, and an outstanding mixed grill cooked before me. The local Brugneto wine is very heavy and put me to sleep immediately I got back to the hotel! Lighter is the Valdragone. I also tried the sweet dessert wine, Oro dei Goti (Goths’ gold) to wash down some really tasty fruit sorbets. All better than the tiny sandwich I was offered on the train there!

A lovely trip altogether. The weather was springlike and I wish I’d stayed longer as I only saw San Marino city and there’s more to see in the surrounding villages. I took hundreds of photos so I've posted just a small selection.

Paraglider above the oldest fort

A bar with an amazing view

Prison cell with elaborate 19th-century graffiti. San Marino was one of the very first countries to abolish the death penalty altogether, in 1865, more than 200 years after the last execution actually happened.

This is what an almost sheer drop of 600 feet (200m) looks like! This fort is impregnable!

Sue x