"Are you being served, Miss?": a day shopping

 I am home now after a trip to London. I didn't have time to say much about it last week but I thought I'd share the lovely day out I had.

I had hoped friends would join me but last-minute babysitting duties, work and other inconveniences put paid to that. Well, it was midweek, so it's to be expected. I spent a day shopping in the city centre and had a positive day with a lot of wonderful interactions with people.

The only full-length photo I have from that day was taken in the hotel. 

 

You've seen this outfit many times before but the pretty skirt is fabulously versatile and the pink top has always been my favourite. As I have a tan I wore some foundation a shade darker than my usual one. I failed to do the same for the sheer tights, an unusual error for me, so they are too light. I also wore my new lilac nail polish on fingers and toes. I really like it.

The pink shoes were supposed to be comfortable flats but were actually a disaster as the rigid backs took the skin off my ankles straight away and the first thing I did on arriving in Oxford Street was to buy some very soft cute pink trainers that were a total contrast in terms of comfort. They're like wearing pink bunnies on your feet! 

I was staying in Teddington in the far south west of London, a town well-known for its comedic celebrities like Noël Coward and Benny Hill (and to this day the locals all sing amusing songs and chase each other round the town at high speed). I took the train up to Waterloo and changed to the sweaty, greasy, dirty Underground to Leicester Square in the heart of the West End.

 

The lady behind me on the slow local train has the right idea! And my pretty skirt really doesn't deserve to sit on a grimy Underground seat and once back at the hotel it went straight into the laundry bag. 

I had an appointment at the London Hair Clinic which went very well and they were very nice to me but I will tell you about that next time as I want your opinion on my purchase and potential future purchases. This is also why I kept my makeup and jewellery to a minimum, so nothing would distract from observing my hair or get tangled in it. 

I went for lunch at an old favourite, Bistro One, in the heart of LGBT-friendly Soho.

 

It was a hot day so I had the chicken caesar salad and their really good bannoffee pie (yes, their menu is still of a former era, but reliable). The owner asked me if I was enjoying my meal and I said it was nice to be back after all these years and, incredibly, he recognised me and said so many kind things and wished me well in my new life in the Mediterranean (he's from Turkey). Well, we girls went to his establishment many times, e.g. Easter 2014 when he took this photo of us.

 

Given the fact that some maniac drove into Berlin Pride - and Berlin has always been a relaxed place for LGBT culture - I took some photos of the local LGBT venues in this area. Notably the Admiral Duncan pub that was targeted in the 1999 nail bombings by a neo-Nazi thug who is now serving six consecutive life sentences for his attacks on black, Bengali and LGBT communities in London. Real evildoers are few but not few enough.

Anyway, the Admiral Duncan in Old Compton Street and the other LGBT pubs and venues here continue to thrive despite everything. 

I pottered around town, visiting places I used to frequent when I lived in London, like the Jubilee Market in Covent Garden 

 

I was less excited by the Carnaby area that was famously the heart of the Swinging Sixties, then reinvented itself around the Millennium as a place of interesting shops but is now just endless, soulless chain shops and fast food joints. Everyone's looking for that bit of quirkiness, bohemia, something different, and when they find it word gets round and everyone loves it but then the developers move in and make it the same as everywhere else that was once quirky and unique. 

In Oxford Street I went to the big stores but didn't really find anything I wanted. Until I went to Selfridges. The perfume galleries have always been amazing. I think my pink outfit blended in to the general décor. I can't say if the smell did, though!

 

I decided to go to Selfridge's beautiful Food Hall and get something nice for my dinner and there I had a lovely experience. An old staff member on the cake counter asked me, in a voice very like that of Parker the chauffeur from Thunderbirds, "Are you being served, Miss?" I have never, ever been referred to as Miss before and I have to say it has left me with a warm glow ever since. I was being served, as it happened, and that cake lady addressed me as "Darling". More familiar and safely unisex but I will not complain, not me. Wow! I am so chuffed about that. I mean, I love being referred to as "Madam" but this was special. Thank you, Selfridges, for your outstanding staff. And the carrot cake was delicious, too!

So apart from the footwear issue, that was a very nice day out. I had planned more Sue days on this trip but, sadly, I was unable to fulfil those plans. Anyway, I got what I came for: new hair, new underwear, a change of scene and to test my new beard cover and foundation that stood up well to the rigours of a warm day in the big city.

Sue x 

Postcard from London

 A quick post - a postcard if you will - as time and WiFi are limited. 

I made it to London and had a lovely day out on Wednesday, doing lots of shopping in the West End. Here’s me waiting for the Underground. 

I had a hair appointment that went really well and I will ask your opinion about my choices in due course.

I was unfailingly addressed as female in shops and other outlets and that really made my day even more than the cute new shoes, makeup and lingerie.

Sadly, my other plans have been curtailed by a bit of a disaster. I’m OK; my property is not. More on that another time. Thankfully, I have friends cheering me up. And Mr Insurance Man will, I am sure, be happy to help.

Have a good weekend. 

Sue x

Pink Punters: a tribute

 I am very sad to hear that fire has destroyed the Pink Punters night club in England. 

Like many, I benefited very much from the security afforded by a dedicated LGBT venue when I was a nervous debutante. The owner has indicated he will rebuild and I wish him every good fortune in that. 

Firstly, a tribute to the staff, who have also received praise from the fire service, for evacuating everyone without fuss or injuries (it's a big place spread over three floors and a yard and holds up to 650 people). At a time when one of the chief items of news where I now live is the inquiry into the New Year's Eve fire at a not dissimilar venue at Crans-Montana in Switzerland, where 41 young people died and 115 were injured, not enough thanks and attention is given to people who do things right in these circumstances. Owner Frank McMahon deserves praise for ensuring his staff were properly trained and safety procedures operated correctly. I believe Frank lost his home as well as his business in the blaze. All my love and sympathy to him and the staff for the effects on their livelihoods and for the trauma suffered. Also the distress no doubt suffered by the person arrested on suspicion of arson who has now been released. And the patrons there at the time. The human costs of these tragedies is underestimated.

In the first instance, when LGBT people, and especially trans people, are under open attack from UK authorities, the media and hate groups, it was hard not to attribute malice to the fire. But arson has been ruled out by the police and fire brigade and the blaze is deemed to have been accidental. It does follow a spate of smaller fires at the venue. 

It takes a long time to recover from tragedies like this and I have sent PPs thanks for past times and such hope for their future as I can offer.

Pink Punters was a local institution and many straight and cis people in the Milton Keynes area went there in preference to clubs elsewhere in a city that is often criticised for its poor nightlife because they found it safe, well run and more fun. I recall one evening when my friends and I went on a non-trans night and it was full of local clubbers with us TGirls as a minority. That's good, actually, as I look forward to a day when the term "trans-friendly" is redundant and everyone can feel welcome and at home anywhere.

So thank you, Pink Punters, for being the venue where I had my very first evening out in public and attended my very first event as Sue, in January 2010. The friends I met on that occasion are still good friends. The fact that UK Angels chose PPs as the venue for a national meet-up on their tenth anniversary that day is a tribute to the place. I revisited several times and eventually was privileged to be able to accompany other girls there on their first outings. Like Leeds First Friday, Nottingham Invasion, Sparkle and the like, Pink Punters has been a significant focus for the UK's trans community, and the colourful Pink Punters double decker bus is frequently seen at Pride parades and other events (see below). I wish PPs well in its expressed desire to rise from the ashes, like the brilliantly coloured phoenix bird of legend. 

You can send messages of support to PPs via their message form Pink Punters messages, via PPs' Facebook or Instagram pages, or through local LGBT charities. 

I have only a few photos immediately to hand from the days when Pink Punters was a regular venue for me, in the years 2010-2013, but here are some of those I can muster at present: 

PP's official photo of Ange and me, May 2010

With a bunch of girls including Emma W, Mandy, Tina, Helen ... Feb 2011

With Maddy in the yard, Dec 2012

With Tiff and Ange, upstairs lounge, Oct 2010

With Emma W and Mandy upstairs, Feb 2011

On the main dancefloor. There's another dancefloor deep down in the depths of the dark basement for weird types who like to thrash around to louder noise.

Not playing pool. May 2010

Upstairs, Feb 2011 

Upstairs, Oct 2010

With Tiff, Ange and Gayna in the Yard, May 2010

With Emma H, Gina, Tiff, Maddy and Bobby, Dec 2012

Waiting to go in ...

... and returning to the hotel opposite the club.

The Pink Punters bus at Sparkle 2010 (with Emma doing her thing on stage).

Most of my visits there were before I started this blog but I have previously written about three of the times I went, which present as an illustration of what PPs was to us. 

January 2010 

December 2012

December 2013 

Thank you, Pinks, for all the good times. May there be more.

Sue x 

Girls day out in London

 (or: this blonde and this brunette went to Chinatown.)

I am visiting England at the moment. It’s been a while since I went out fully femme but I had the opportunity this week and, despite the London Underground being on strike, I arranged to meet up for lunch in Chinatown with my lovely friend Stephanie. 

I have been staying in a hotel in Teddington at the very South Western limits of Greater London. I was nervous about my looks as I think I am getting old and saggy but actually, once I was made up and my hair was fixed, I think I look cute enough.

I wore a short floral dress, a black cardigan and oldest pair of boots I have, which certainly needed a polish after years in storage. 

 

It was only later that I realised this was the exact same dress I wore last time I met Stephanie in London two years ago. D’oh! 

It was a pleasant sunny spring day but not really warm so I had my thick coat and sparkly scarf and was glad of them. I have never felt warm in London which is why I moved south.

I wondered if I’d be nervous after this long time away from the scene but actually I walked out of the hotel feeling confident and happy and took the train up to town. Because of the transport strike I walked to the centre from Waterloo, wandering into a few shops along the way, and through Leicester Square where they were preparing for the première of The Devil Wears Prada II. 

I met Stephanie under the statue of Eros in Piccadilly Circus. The great thing about being out in a big city is that it’s actually in the most crowded places that you are least likely to be outed as a trans woman. That midnight trip to the post box we all start out with is the sure fire way to be spotted, whereas big crowds are too busy with their own business to take notice of you.

Stephanie likes oriental food and I was happy with that so we had lunch in the heart of Chinatown.

Afterwards the tout on the door took our photo with all the lanterns in the street.

And then we went shopping in Covent Garden. I ended up buying some lipsticks and nail polishes as my stocks have been dwindling. We also took a stroll down to the river and sat in the Embankment Gardens where we had had this great photo taken with our friends back in 2013.

We went to Trafalgar Square where we posed under the Fourth Plinth I’d seen last year as it is currently home to an artwork of trans people’s faces. 

And by the fountains. 

We ended our day with a quiet drink in the snug corner by the fireplace at the Chandos pub that’s always been my favourite pub location. It’s become expensive, though. A small bottle of pear cider is over £7.50!

Thanks to Stephanie for being lovely company as ever and for defying the strike and battling her way into the city centre on the buses to meet me. Best wishes to Grace who would have joined us if things had been less fraught. I’ll see you next time.

I finished by trying a Franziska-style elevator shot back at the hotel. Not great, but it’s my first attempt!

Well, that was a shot in the arm. There is nothing more joyous that having a day out en femme for a bit of sightseeing, shopping and lunch with a friend. I felt recharged and very content. 

Sue x

A trip down Memory Card Lane - the Great Drag Race

 I'm not at home this Hallowe'en so it's cancelled. Which is slightly annoying as I'd got my cobweb pattern tights and elbow-length gloves specially for this year's witchy doings. Maybe I'll have to be the Christmas Spider or something instead.

Whaddaya mean there's no Christmas Spider?  

Of course there is! You know, the spider who lives in the chimney and crawls into Santa's boot and bites his toe as he tries to manoeuvre quietly round your living room furniture ... You've never experienced that? It's OK, I'll pop round this year and make Santa wake the kids with expletive-laden stomping about and crashing into things. Merry Cursemas one and all!

So, as there will be no Hallowe'en photos this year, I'll carry on with my posting of rediscovered photos from past years. This time it's the Great Drag Race of 2010, an event I described in Episode 2 of my 2020 series on my First Steps in Trans Living (series here, with links although it's easier if I copy the relevant text below and add to it). This was one of the events that really increased my confidence. Now I have all the photos that my official photographer, Ange, took. She's a professional photographer and came with some impressive kit. Ange is the first T-Girl I ever met and she's something of a sister to me. Thanks, sis. 

Many trans people rely on fancy dress events to get a chance to be out as themselves without attracting undue comment. Events like Hallowe'en or Carnival, the school prom or the local drama club, and similar. So the opportunity I had to be out in public was the Great Drag Race in 2010.

Nothing to do with RuPaul, this was an event organised by Prostate UK and Prostate Action (now amalgamated as Prostate Cancer UK), which are charities that fund research into prostate cancer and look after sufferers and their families. A good cause, not just for men and their families, but trans women too as, even after transition, the prostate may cause problems. The reason it was a race in drag was to acknowledge the high-profile work done by women for breast cancer care with events like the Moonwalk or Breast Cancer Awareness Month. 

I'm not a drag queen and, frankly, neither was any other participant, but here was a chance to be dressed in public, with praise for doing so thrown in. Win-win! I had various sponsors though my contribution was slight as I managed to get time off work only at the last minute. 

It was quite a high-profile event, held in London Fields, a park in North-East London, and the compère was Peter Duncan, best known for his TV shows, notably Blue Peter (a very long-running children's magazine programme). A very personable, down-to-earth man in real life.

So although most of the participants being sponsored to run were just men who'd borrowed something off their wives, some of us like to think we were a bit more like the real thing. In fact, as I applied my makeup, one guy looked over at me and said, "You've done this before!"

This is my official portrait photo from the event:

(c) The X Foundation

 

This is my unofficial photo in the official photo spot:

 

And this is the unofficial photo of the official photo being taken, a metaphoto if you wish:

Stop giggling at the back. I'm entirely innocently holding a furled pink umbrella by my side for this family-friendly event. But, yes, you can see why I've never posted this before! Always check your camera angle, Ange! 

Ange did take a good artistic picture of me applying my makeup, though:

There was a general makeup table to sit at and apply such makeup as might be wanted and it was there that another official event photographer wanted to snap me before I was fully in Sue mode and I refused to allow her to as I was very much needing to be in stealth as I wasn't out as trans at this point at all. I know it's a contradiction to be in stealth at a high-profile public event but then trans living is a university degree course in finding inauthentic ways to be authentic. One day I might graduate.

Here are some more photos, looking neat and fresh before I ran the race:

So after makeup and photos the next thing to do was to break a world record. With pep talks from a professional drag queen (whose spicy thoughts perhaps overlooked that this was a family event - oops!), and from Peter Duncan and organisers, and then ten minutes training from choreographer Lisa Lee, we formed a chorus line of 128 queens and danced (or flailed around) for five minutes to Bonnie Tyler's Holding Out for a Hero. Guinness World Records considered this activity sufficient to qualify for the title of Longest Line of Dancing Drag Queens and so, dear readers, I am a world record holder with an official certificate to say so, and if Roy Castle were still alive I'm sure he'd tell everyone on his show about our outstanding achievement. Dedication and all that. (For younger and non-UK readers, Roy Castle was a musician, actor and entertainer who had a TV show for children called Record Breakers. "Dedication" was the lousy theme song that he sang at the end of every episode.) This record was broken by a new line of 144 drag queens at the Great Drag Race in 2012.

The race itself was 10200 metres overall (six and a third miles), representing the 10200 people who die from prostate cancer in Britain each year. It was a warm summer's day and, frankly, running that far in a wig is no joke. The hair I chose was a cheap but light purchase from Doreen Fashions (a shop for trans women that sadly now exists only online). I did wear sensible running shoes but swapped them for four-inch court shoes for the last lap, and waved my pink umbrella too! Frankly, such shoes are not for running in - I bruised my toes! Sadly, Ange had got bored by this point and put her camera away so you'll just have to take my word for it. 

Some action shots now. The pleasant companion on my right kept pace with me most of the way. 

 

 

The whole event raised about £20,000 and was the first of several such sponsored races.

It was exhilarating being out in a very public place in this way and thereby gain more confidence. I spotted another TGirl participating. You could tell because we actually looked different from the rest. It was her first time out in public and, incredibly, she came on the Underground dressed already. I didn't actually talk to her on the day, only subsequently, because of the unwritten rule that you don't point out to a TGirl you may have spotted that she's a TGirl, even if you both are. She has now transitioned successfully. From small acorns like this, mighty oaks grow.

There's not a lot online about this event any more although I did find this on YouTube which gives a bit of the flavour. I'm in the photo at 1:08-1:11 sandwiched between the red dress and the white camera.

Thanks again to Ange for giving moral support and taking the photos and for the people who sponsored.

Thank you again to those who comment on my blog. I'm still having problems replying but solutions are being worked out...

Happy Hallowe'en.

Sue x 

A trip down Memory Card Lane ... with extra mushrooms

I've had a productive weekend digging around in ancient computer files, memory cards, assorted electronic devices, emails and more and found endless photos of my early days out and about with friends before I started blogging. Some amazing finds that made me so happy to rediscover; I got quite giddy with the memories! 

All the electronic stuff that characterises our century has redundancy built in and you never get everything in one place before that device, format or accessory gets out of date. It's an endless fight to get one comprehensive photo album together.

I shall write occasional posts about my life before this blog, when actually most of my photos as a TGirl were taken! I've done some of that before but now I can add extras. It was when life was at its best. You know, when you accept that you can live as the woman you always felt you were. Like this picture which I have just rediscovered and which is one of the nicest photos of me ever taken and shows how relaxed and confident I felt living my life as a woman. 

 

 

This was at the Royal Botanical Gardens at Kew in London. Today, in the light of my last post where I linked to other posts about visiting Kew Gardens, I will attach more photos from that beautiful place that was a big part of my outdoor life as a TGirl. And, in the light of past comments, talk about going mushrooming, with the help of the scientists at Kew who specialise in mycology, the study of the vast realm of life that is the fungus kingdom. Obviously, my main interest is someone who eats a lot! But there's more to mushrooms than you might think. 

As I've mentioned before, although I'd been out away from home before, in June 2010 I walked out of my own front door presenting as female for the first time ever. And after a long walk I ended up at Kew Gardens. I had a season ticket, but obviously in my official male name and gender, so the first interaction I ever had with another person in the real world as Sue was to persuade the woman on the gate that I was the person on the ticket. She eventually shrugged and let me in. It was easier to get into Kew Gardens in the days when you paid just a penny to the guardian on the gate. (Yes, until the 1980s the entry fee was one penny and had been for 200 years or so. It's now £25 entry on the gate - inflation over the last 45 years of 250000%. Thanks, Mrs Thatcher.)

I took some selfies but I had no tripod or timer so they are all too close-up and horrible and you have no idea I'm at Kew so I will never post them. The next year I went to Kew for a picnic with Joanne and Petra and two of my favourite pictures emerged. One of me standing by the fountain in the back garden at Kew Palace, and one of me with Petra in "Queen's Garden", which we thought was very apt! You've seen these before buy, hey, they're favourites.

 

My visit with Dee was just a couple of weeks after this. She's described our picnic in detail in her blog here. This is me standing outside the iconic Palm House ...

 ... and with some fancy chickens ...

 ... and by the Gingko biloba or maidenhair tree that is such an ancient species that it still has separate male and female plants. But not at Kew because when it was first planted in the eighteenth century they weren't aware of that feature and grafted male and female plants together, thus creating a hybrid tree which you could consider, in some ways, an intersex or even trans tree.

Dee and me in the Japanese Garden... 
 

And me in the garden house at the palace again ...

I still have that skirt. It's the same one you see in the background photo to my blog, which was taken a few weeks after this, at Painshill Park at the other end of the county of Surrey from Kew. And the shoes, which I no longer have. Maybe the T-shirt is the same one! So few ideas ... just like a real woman lol! Very sadly, I no longer have the handbag which was a real favourite but, being made of faux leather, it eventually disintegrated. I think I still have the black cardigan somewhere.

Many thanks to my lovely friend Dee for her excellent photography, and for inspiring this post. 

I went to Kew Gardens a few times after this en femme but I have no further photos from those trips. 

I also went to Kew a couple of times for the "fungus forays" with the head of mycology, Dr Brian Spooner. I mention this as I talked about hunting for mushrooms for food in my last post and this elicited quite a few comments. With its exotic collections and the symbiosis between the fungal kingdom and the plant kingdom that results in fungi being inadvertently imported with plants, Kew has some amazing fungi as well as plants, if you know where to look. 

As foodies, we're after edible toadstools, which are the characteristic bulbous fruiting bodies of the fungus that scatter its spores. The fungus itself, if you find it in woodland, which is where most edible species come from, is not the toadstool you see but is chiefly a mycelium or network of strands called hyphae that run underground, through the matter it consumes: leaf litter, soil, dead wood, etc. Other fungi consume other stuff: that old slice of bread or cheese or pot of jam, that dead animal or even that living one (ouch!). Some fungi are lovable, like brewer's yeast, some damaging, like dry rot, or candida (ew!). So we eat the reproductive parts of some fungi, rather like we eat the fruits of some plants.

It's hard to see the actual mycelium and its hyphae as they're buried within the fungus's food, but we caught sight of a black bootstrap once just on the surface that was the hypha of a tough woodland fungus. And not all fruiting bodies look like fairy toadstools. Some are like birds' nests that let the raindrops scatter the "eggs", some are like antlers or alien tentacles, some like rubbery earlobes and some ... well, the genus name is Phallus so have a guess. Here are some of the weirder types for you, all of them spotted at Kew ...

Crucibulum laeve, a bird's nest fungus

Calocera viscosa, or yellow stagshorn

Auricularia auricula-judae, or jelly ear. The Latin means Jew's ear because the fungus grows on elder wood, which is the tree that some traditions say that Judas Iscariot hanged himself from after betraying Jesus.

Clathrus archeri, or octopus stinkhorn, erupting from its "eggs" like Ridley Scott's alien.

Mutinus caninus, or dog stinkhorn, one of the many Phallales. Mutinus was a Roman fertility god. There are lots of common names for the phalloid fungi and I won't repeat them here!

As a child I used to hunt for mushrooms with my grandfather, or with youngsters my age. The best are found in early autumn in deciduous woodland after rain followed by a few days of sun. Some hunts were disappointing - maybe you'd get just a few young honey fungi (Armillaria mellea) after hours of tramping in steep woods; other trips brought rich, easy pickings that earned congratulations from the grown-ups and provided lunch for a dozen people, such as a big bagful of tall, broad parasol mushrooms (Macrolepiota procera) that have an intoxicating smell of hazelnuts and the caps of which are delicious battered and fried.

If you want to pick your own in public woodland, first check that you are allowed to by local laws. Field mushrooms may need the permission of farmers or other landowners. You MUST learn the few species that are deadly (or unsuitable for eating because they do weird things to your head ... unless you're seeking that effect, of course). In Europe, pickers can usually get their hauls checked by experts that local police stations or hospitals employ, depending on which country you're in. If you've picked a poisonous one by mistake, throw your whole haul away. If in doubt, leave the thing where it is. 

 

Amanita phalloides, the Death Cap. Just one can kill you in slow and unpleasant ways. Just ask the Roman emperor Claudius I who had one slipped into his dinner so that his charming stepson Nero could come to power. If you survive, your liver and kidneys won't ever work properly again. You must be able to recognise this one if you go out mushrooming. 

Really, the lethal ones are almost all from the genuses Amanita and Lepiota - they're not called things like Death Cap and Destroying Angel for nothing. Buy a guidebook with a key to identification and learn the bad ones, and carry your book into the woods with you with your collecting boxes or baskets. 

Enjoy the good ones. Remember to give them a shake as you pick them so some spores fall out and, with luck, start a new crop. Here are some nice "penny buns" or "porcini" (Boletus edulis) I bought last year and turned into a stew. I've recently had them in a sauce with tagliolini, thin strips of freshly-made pasta, in my favourite local restaurant and they were delicious beyond belief.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I've been unimpressed with the rather yellowing, bug-chewed porcini in my supermarket this week and haven't bought any. Best wait for market day and get some fresher ones from a stall even if they cost more. 

Sue x