Goodbye 2023

The year draws to a close. There have been ups and downs, there has been joy and there has been friendship both shown and received. For friends and support I am most grateful but a proper run-down belongs on my traditional 'New Year Listings' post, which will follow in the new year. In the meantime, let's look back on 2023 with a categorical lens, shall we? Like last year I posted the below review on the Book of Faces, though unlike last year it seems it has only been viewed by my Mum, who zeroed in (as she does) on one line and used it to berate me for allowing a shift to be changed today (it was a later shift, but the hour longer I got in the morning allowed me to have a much-needed shower; admittedly, the later finish meant some furtling in the loft just now to switch out soaking towels with dryer ones, but still). The point is, the version here is 'uncensored'.

1. What did you do in 2023 that you’d never done before?

- Learned to drive a bus
- Challenged some tradespeople (ineffectually as it happens, but still, I tried)
- Missed some big events of my children's lives
- Got my nails did by professionals
- Lost at chess to my children (twice, somehow, in the same game)
- Didn't seek advancement at work when it was offered

2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

So far so good: I have gained a job and, so far, not been sacked.

For next year:
Try to make some progress on minimising that blasted five o'clock shadow and changing my voice sufficiently that it does not immediately out me.


3. Did anyone you know give birth?

Do new work colleagues count? If so, yes. Otherwise, no, I don't think so.


4. Did anyone close to you die?

Not this year, no.


5. What countries did you visit?

I did not.


6. What would you like to have in 2024 that you lacked in 2023?

Can I be stereotypically trans for a moment? I can? Oh good. It's HRT. Oh, and a watertight roof, that'd be nice.

I mean, also, it would be lovely to find a partner, even for a short while, but I rather suspect that this is somewhat unrealistic for an autistic pre-everything trans-woman in her mid-40s with three children and irregular working hours.


7. What date(s) from 2023 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

16 January - I started a new job
29 January - A day round Abbi's in a fun top
7 February - Makeover time!

16 February - I started doing that job beyond training

12 March - A day spent doing something I really ought to do every day (I got all dressed up and had fun)

19 March - Ladies' Night

21 March - Last Pre-Release Tournament I have attended

31 October - Appointment at Clinic

18 November - Middlest got awarded black belt, well deserved!

Huh, not much this year...

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

I guess it's still being in a job after five months. Well, more than five months at this point.


9. What was your biggest failure?

Roof repairs - they're expensive and still haven't fixed either of the two original leaks (one is much worse now too). I appear to struggle at getting decent tradespeople to do jobs well.


10. Were you seriously ill during 2023?

Actually, no, I've been arguably the healthiest I've ever been in that regard: I haven't even had a bad cold!

11. What was the best thing you bought?

- Honestly? My collar. It's nice, understated and comfortable; weighty, shiny and comforting
- Warhammer gubbins for the Middlest, including paints. Though, in fairness, mostly he bought his own and I just provided the time and space

- New watch strap - a shame it snapped so quickly. Must buy a hardier one...
- New nails early on in the year

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration? (in no particular order)

My children, obviously
Abbi - continuing to be a good friend whose support I honestly couldn't do without
Shiona, Gary and Tim - this is getting repetitive but, yes, support and openness
My Mum - who continues to show what a difference parents can make on a trans-journey even when the struggles are real and I am confusing
Five - at points, not to diminish her impact, but it remains confusing to me. Still, she offered friendship, I think, and I did try to take her up on that offer. Though I am bad at keeping friends so...
My friends at the BOYL - I appreciated the holiday, and it was good to see and chat with them again
Susie, Lynn and, yes, Leslie - continued subtle support, comments and e-mails: big up to the trans* Mafia once more


13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

Still me. Not been keeping up with the news or headlines as much as previous so that's all been a bit muted


14. Where did most of your money go?

Failing to fix the roof


15. What did you get excited about?

- Passing my bus driving test
- Getting my nails did
- My collar and cuff
- The Little Things
- Doctor Who, oddly enough

- Going to BOYL

16. What songs will always remind you of 2023?

LORN - Anvil, Diamond and Acid Rain

Forest Swords - Crow
Apashe - Renaissance 2.0 with Live Orchestra - this is art
Agnes Obel - Familiar and Broken Sleep
Peter Gabriel - My Body is a Cage

Gorillaz - Stylo

M83 - Midnight City

Fever Ray - Keep the Streets Empty for Me and When I Grow Up

Apashe ft. Geoffrey - Distance

Pet Shop Boys - Lost EP (all tracks)

Royskopp ft. Robyn - Monument (plus remixes)

Archive - Daytime Coma

Ren - Seven Sins, Hi Ren and the Ballad of Jenny and Screech

Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Heads will Roll

Mr Kitty - After Dark

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
i. happier or sadder?
I think I'm happier.

ii. thinner or fatter?
Ooo, hard to say. I'm gonna say I'm the same.

iii. richer or poorer?
Richer, I think. At least, in cash terms.


18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

- Walking along the canal and on the footpaths round where I live
- Sleeping
- Playing Pokemon
- Having baths
- Organising house repairs and/or redecoration
- Cooking

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

- Taking extra hours and forgetting existing arrangements
- Pouring water out of the loft from the leaks
- Having accidents in buses (that is, crashing them into things)
- Playing on character.ai and on CYOAs

20. How did you spend Christmas?

Alone. I cooked me some bird and generally lost myself playing a game I downloaded.


21. How many one night stands?

As many as I usually have. Which is to say: none


22. Did you fall in love in 2023?

No


23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

No


24. What was your favourite TV programme?

The Wild Blue Yonder Dr Who special
And YouTube (so much YouTube):
- Philosophy Tube - specifically the Prince which was amazing
- Turbos and Tantrums
- Some More News
- Aranock

- Jammiedodger
- UK Dashcams
- Auto Shenanigans (specifically the motorways series)
- Council of Geeks
- Jessie Gender
- RCE - everyone needs some ridiculousness and this is mine
- hbomberguy - both the 'Oof' video and the 'Somerton' one. What can I say? He's a treasure.

- Kaz Rowe

25. What was your greatest musical discovery?

Probably Apashe, though I am so late to the party.

26. What was the best book you read?

Gifts - Ursula K. Le Guin - it edges out Left Hand of Darkness by dint of it being, well, just a lovely read. I love how it subverts expectations in the sense that the powers aren't the focus despite being the hook: it's actually much more about relationships, love, expectations and happiness. I also adored the Tombs of Atuan that I read recently too. I started reading the first four books of Earthsea a while back but was turned off by the first one and ditched it for a while

I've actually read quite a few books this year and that's been a nice change of pace. Got back into Pratchett too, so wins all round. It was lovely to get back into Pratchett, actually, and the Disc World. It certainly improved my experience of Good Omens on TV. Honourable mention must go to Psalm for the Wildbuilt because that was just delightful. I can also heartily recommend Strong Female Character by Fern Brady, utterly changed how I view her (for the positive). 

27. Are you happy with your lot?

Hard to give a proper answer. Things are better than this time last year though: I have a job, I can pay the bills.


28. What did you want and get?

A job that pays the bills.


29. What did you want and NOT get?

Getting over my hang ups regarding my own birthday.


30. What was your favourite film of this year?

I don't think I've really watched any new films this year. I really enjoyed watching Beowulf and Grendel even if it was utterly ridiculous in places. Also enjoyed re-watching The Martian and Dark City.


31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I visited a Abbi's house and we had take out. I may have done some colouring in, I can't accurately recall. I was 43.


32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Regular working hours and weekends.


33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2022?

Skirts (or dresses) and blouses, so... preppy? Is that the right term? Also, my denim dungaree dress number from spring, I love it!


34. What kept you sane?

My old friends
Chatting and bouncing at Abbi's
Video essays
Reading books
Izzy, old Uni friends and others

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Tough one this year. I don't think I can say I did at all. Special mention, regardless, for Maria Franz's antlers.


36. What political issue stirred you the most?

I actually tried to steer clear of politics, but probably immigration and trans-rights. I'm pro both, by the way.


37. Who did you miss?

My children. Tilly and, strangely, Toby.


38. Who were the best new people you met?

So few new people... uh... one or two people who are bus drivers I guess. No, I shan't name them here.


39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2023:

Stop dithering and do it


40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:

Oh this is hardcore:
There is no way back for you.
Oh this is hardcore:
This is me on top of you.
And I can't believe that it took me this long
(that it took me this long)
[...]
Oh, what a hell of a show.

But what I want to know:
What exactly do you do for an encore, yeah?
Cause this is hardcore.

- This is Hardcore, Pulp

Christmas

I usually do a Christmas review. I haven't yet. So, here's that review, I guess.

On 23rd December, the night thereof, my leaks returned with a vengence. It wasn't raining terribly hard or for very long, but my ceiling was soaking wet. I investigated, it was now close to midnight, and discovered that the leak that "shouldn't be there" according to my roofers was, in fact, very much there and much worse than before they had managed to visit. I am still awaiting their proper response (they keep telling me they're on holiday - they briefly promised they'd turn up before New Year, but I doubt that). Slightly stressed, I managed to get some sleep.

Christmas Eve I spent the morning bowling with the boys and Tilly. Middlest finally managed to come into his own, where his technique was supported by a bit of power and 'oomph' and he won the second game handily. I managed to win the first by accident (I wasn't trying to win, but nor did I throw it). The second game I did manage not to take from Middlest's triumph (though Tilly almost won instead). Youngest has stopped using the ramp and so he was just getting better without being able to see his improvement himself. He wanted me to stop over for Christmas, trying to tell him why this was impossible was hard. Tilly, who won't lie to her children (sorry, bit sore about a conversation I have not related here), has not told Youngest why I can't stay over, just that I can't. I am not allowed to share the reason either. Right. That's not lying even by omission, apparently, so it's fine.

Then I returned home and fretted about the leaks. However, it was reasonably dry. I found some games online and got hooked on them, as is my wont. Thus I wasted the rest of the day.

Christmas day arrived. I unwrapped my one last present from my Mum, a couple of boxes of smellies for the bathroom that was a regift - she gets that sort of thing from friends and it's not her cup of tea, so said last year she would start passing them on. My presents from Alex and Abbi, they came to visit on the 21st, were already open. The Snuggle (I have no idea what it actually is, but as a cute and soft toy I shall refer to it as The Snuggle) was already thus ensconsed with Callie and Ruff; the plant in the dining room and the chocolates were eaten.

Boxing Day Middlest came over in the afternoon and did some painting. I even managed to have a shower that morning. It wasn't that cold, the house was behaving, the buidling work was actually reasonably liveable with. Still is. Needs plastering, obviously, but the problem is solved and I can see the corner visibly drying out now!

Obviously, that night, there was more rain. I took some towels up and wrapped my rafters in a mostly successful attempt to intercept the leaks better than relying on pots and plastic bags. The water is running down the wood, you see, rather than dripping straight in. Harder to stop and harder to catch before it gets to ceilings. This was exacerbated at some point over the next few days as I was at work and now I am out of towels as they are all on rotation attempting to staunch leaks - oh, the one at the chimney has returned as well, worse than it was back in 2021. Same place, of course.

I love spending almost 20 grand and getting nothing fixed in return. I am, of course, feeling dour - hence why I have not posted this earlier. I was looking forward to Thursday too, a chance to discuss some matters on my mind since last post with someone in the flesh so to speak - as well as developments - but that was scotched (with good reason!) and I spent the morning in a big urban connurbation instead stocking up on foundation (it's running out again). I also stopped off in Accessorize and got myself an actual purse. It's orange. It's obnoxious orange. Well, I like it. I tried, and failed, to arrange a visit to see Five and pass on a Christmas present. I suspect I should probably cease my own strivings there now. Suffice to say some people on the buses have said some nice things and that is mostly keeping me going. I shall, because I am me, go into more detail presently but that's TMI and thus lives below the line break. You can stop here now.

Chris Rea is Drunk, That's Why He's Not Home Yet

Mine were more scuffed than this. 

At work, a few days ago now, we had our Secret Santa. I had joined to show willing, as a newb, and maybe even make someone's day with a gift. It was £5 advisory spend, well within my budget, and 'a bit of fun'. The person I got I vaguely know, so I sort of guessed what to get. It's amazing what you can get if you go charity shop diving. With a vague outline of an idea I got a second-hand DVD (what it was didn't matter, it was a film for a 'night in'), two mugs, some hot chocolate (not posh, but nice, thus affordable), a small box of chocolates (again, not posh, tokens was the idea) and a scented candle. I wrote a quick note in a card to explain the concept a bit, wrapped them all and handed them in. She was there when the unwrapping was forced on us by another person I know - she's in a relationship, BTW, hence the two mugs - and was rather confused by the offerings, though I note did not share the card with anyone. Others got smellies, chocolates, glove and scarf sets, you know the sort of thing. All innocuous, and reasonably nice too. I got an eight-pack of Pepsi cans. No, I don't drink Pepsi at work (I'm known for eating soup at lunch time if you want a food'n'drink related fact of me at work). The wrapping paper was reused (old tape marks still visible) and... it's hard not to feel just a little slighted, you know? There was, even to me being an aspie, visible and palpable embarrassment on my behalf from others, so I took it with as good grace as I could muster and smiled genially whilst enthusing over what colleagues got. Not everyone unwrapped at this point (not everyone was there) so I surmised the person who got me wasn't there and, further, that on the basis of what others were getting someone had been more thoughtful to them than they had been to me. Oh, I wasn't even the newest newb opening gifts, so it's not like the 'I'm too new to be known' defence is fully applicable here. Eh, I dunno.

Here you see the aftermath, before the damp proofing
was done. You can see, left of photyo, where the damp
was getting in and a hole in the wall, beneath the
plaster, that had been stuffed with shredded newspaper
for some reason.

Oh, that plug socket? It got plaster in it. Now, if you try
to use it, it'll flip the circuit breakers for all my lights.

It should have a box. It does not have a box. Some
dickhead screwed it directly into the surrounding plaster.
By 'some dickhead' I mean the person whose fingerprints
are all over the shoddy work I keep finding when problems
arise. That dickhead. Oh, the wire for the socket? Drilled
in from outside where it's badly attached to the outer
wall and runs from by the front door. The mind boggles.
(For reference, it's about eight metres from the front door
to this socket, which is usually behind the door to the kitchen
and thus inaccessible - like why is it even there?)

This was tempered, on the same day, by a passenger presenting me with 'lunch' (he's a lovely fellow and does this whichever driver he gets on his journey, to or from home, and I have benefited in the past from his largesse) and a second presenting me with a bar of chocolate as a Christmas present. He said he was doing it to all the drivers on the route I drive, so bless him. And, of course, today when I was home to deal with the building work (ugh) I had Abbi and Alex round and it was lovely. They brought presents for me and we unwrapped the ones got us by the others and it was lovely and such a tonic.

I mean, also, I had a bit of a brush with things... I dunno. I wanted to get Eldest a token gift, she didn't have to know it was from me; I just feel bad not getting anything for her. However, Tilly asked her about it - I already know the answer - and on that basis told me that getting one was impossible as she wouldn't lie to cover it up and Eldest would feel I had broached her boundaries. I mean, had Tilly not asked it wouldn't have been a boundary to cross but... Maybe I'm just in the wrong here. I have been woolly at best in describing what happened, but the gist is that I had a meltdown and Eldest had the brunt of it. I'm not sure it justifies the time or severity of the response but, then, I would say that. When I asked, and I did ask, Tilly whether that made me as bad as her Dad she demurred, but ultimately agreed that it probably made me worse to Eldest than her Dad was to Tilly.

Yesterday, as I walked to drop off presents for the
family, I spotted these clouds. My photo doesn't
do it justice: there were pinks and blues and whites
at first, later joined by greens and yellows and reds.

I told Him Upstairs He was being a bit 'on the nose'
but I'm not gonna lie, it was nice to see.

Building work is now completed, on the rising damp at least. I just have to find a plasterer to cover the brickwork and then, maybe, decorate afterward. Considering that I still haven't redecorated the dining room, the original damp room, this is unlikely. Leaks continue in the loft - running down timbers into the ceiling above the bathroom. I've done what I can to mitigate and disrupt that. That means the sealant added by my roofers last has done nothing, like ze goggles I guess.

Indy has been in unexpected contact, which was nice, and though the conversation has been very interesting indeed I am a little concerned about them. The topic is related to something they confessed to being conflicted about back on the 'Test Run' (that wasn't in the end) in 2021 and... well, I asked and they did not respond to that part of the conversation at all. Message understood. I just hope they're okay and not tied in knots over things. Maybe they can embrace parts of themselves and thus experience the lessening of pressure that I did when I figured me out - something I am still finding has an impact even now.

There was one other incident, this morning as it happens, which was... mortifying? Entirely expected? I dunno. However, perhaps I'm not ready to write about that - especially given that I now know people that read these pages! :) That needs discussion somewhere more... anonymous... I feel. If it needs discussion at all. Still, today was a Good Day with Good Company and Respite. Tomorrow is a 'middle shift' - 0900-1930 - and that means an easier start and a decent stab at sleeping in the evening. After that I have bought in beer and I shall probably have one that evening, then it's three days until I work again. I intend to enjoy that time. An end of year post is traditional, of course, so I guess I'll do that at some point.

Merry Christmas to my readers, in case I don't publish again before then!

Oh, hey, no glasses!
(they steamed up whilst cooking)

Drama and Mythos

This was the night after the do. I'm leaning 
into the blouse beneath the jumper look. 

Oh, yeah, I was at the pub. 

Chams Christmas Do went well, I attended. I was there. I sequestered myself and talked almost exclusively to one other person, as is my wont, and we traded stories of our pasts and our journeys. I learned a lot but did so by not taking part in the wider social group - one could say that this, in itself, is a lesson I learned - but I did get to chat a little with Lynn. Sorry, Lynn. I did not dress appropriately, I wore the clothes I'd had on since that morning's park visit with Youngest - muddy and plain. I digress, I was able to go. How? Well, my Mum came to visit, and I told her how I would not be going North this year - I have no wish to spend Christmas Eve travelling and then doing the same on Boxing Day, with my Mum doing twice the journey each time to make it happen. My Mum argued that she could stop over but the principal reason she wants me North is the building work that will strip one wall of the living room on 22 December of plaster - it will be cold, bleak and depressing. So I couldn't really subject my Mum to that along with the travel, it's just not fair. I mean, I can just avoid the living room for a bit. I already kind of do after all.

We went shopping, some last minute stuff. I had intended to get all the presents for Abbi and Alex back at the end of November but, for one reason or another, I had not managed to get out shopping properly since my initial foray. I managed it with my Mum and now that is done. I just have to wrap it and, somehow, work out a chance to drop it all off. Most of my free days are now booked with children and family, the curse of Christmas (I have never been a fan of the pressure to see people all crushed into a tiny temporal space). I have, of course, not decorated. I am no fan of the forced jollity of this time of year, no adherent to apparent need to see everyone important in one's life or face the disappointment of those whom you care about and did not get to visit or see.

Edited by cropping, but here's the face I
shared on Saturday. Note the different
glasses.

In considering the what ifs of my journey and recognising the damage that I have faced I do not wish to create the idea, or the impression of one, that somehow my life would have been improved had different choices been made. Some aspects can be viewed that way, I do wonder about the decision I made in 2006 to bury my growing realisation (and, indeed, tentative reading on what trans-identities and such actually are) in favour of pursuing a romantic relationship with Tilly. It was a move I very consciously made and where I firmly decided to not look at my cross-dressing and what it might mean in any great depth. I turned my back on a process that was as close to completion as I was in December 2020 - meaning I was a few months away from accepting myself as trans back in September 2006. But even that is complicated. The decision I took led almost directly to having children. To marriage. To a relationship with Tilly - who was and remains witty, pretty, clever, beguiling and lovely. And everything else, don't worry, I'm not looking through rose-tinted glasses: there is a reason we are divorced and it's not my recognition of myself as trans.

On Saturday, yesterday, Middlest attended his Nintendo Club's Christmas Party at the local Vegan gaming cafe favourite and I had arranged to spend some time playing Blood Red Skies with Veronica. Middlest had a lovely time, Veronica and I played a couple of games, she disappeared on a political march for a couple of hours and I had lunch then entered the art competition by drawing a Sonic in a Christmas hat entitled: "I'm a-gonna win" and crediting the quote to Kirby in Mortal Kombat. Because I am easily amused. Basically, I was at a loose end and there were free-use art supplies, what else was I going to do? We left earlier than I thought we would, Middlest had been presented with the black belt he achieved in the morning and had been fatigued by that and the memory of what he did to gain it, and finished with a chippy tea. I walked home alone.

She's gonna get ya!

No man is an island unless his name
is Papa New Guinea.

Some parcels arrived, some decisions made by me regarding gifts turned out to be less than stellar, which is always a risk when one strikes out via assumptions (that make an ass out of Uma Thurman and she will kill you for it) but it is a learning curve. One which, I must say, I really ought to have managed before now. Honestly, I'm in my forties and dealing with people I have known most of my life, how am I so bad at guessing what would work as gifts? Ah, well, simple answer: I've spent a long while trying to ascertain what I wanted and thus not really considered what others do. Perhaps, then, the reason for death of the relationship twixt Tilly and I is connected to the trans-ness issue, my deliberate choice to ignore it and let it eat away at everything else instead.

What good comes from the what ifs? I have indulged imagining being born and instantly accepted at face value as my gender in the past, it was engaging but provided no concrete point or change. I have mentioned I would have taken the path of transition in 1996 had I but known it was an option (though, in that case, I would agree that the consequences would have been... poor). I have engaged in writing what ifs about University and immediately following. Even taking another path in 2006, deciding that Tilly was out of my league, and thus potentially recognising myself in 2007. And, on these pages, I have indulged in many counter factuals beyond and including these. Is there a 'better path' amongst them? I cannot say. I'm an historian. A what if serves as a guide to better understand the what is, to analyse better the aspects of what did happen by imagining another not - one can thus analyse significance by imagining if things, usually one event, happened another way. One could also analyse causes by trying to see if a particular event could happen a different way or not given what had gone before and the situation at the time. But I do not believe one can really analyse whether a path was 'better' or 'worse' because the extrapolation is so hard and grounded in one's own unknown biases and experiences.

How Tell If Prenganat?

Driving around late at night: few passengers, easy roads, plenty of time to think. My brain, as it does, throws up old times and reminded me of a time in my past that I thought worthy of sharing. This is the story of the pregnancy sympathy belly.

The street is wonderful for Public Health in the Industrial 
Era, for example, but the exhibit is looking old and rather 
tired... Or, at least, it was the last time I went in... 
2015? I want to say 2016 but... 

It's been over twenty years... Nearly thirty. 

It was 1996, I was doing History GCSE, and there was a trip to Thackray Medical Museum to help with the Medicine Through Time revision in time for the examinations. My favourite ever teacher, Ms Higgins (names have been changed, but Gary knows her), was taking my group round the museum. I had first become rather besotted with this teacher, academically I might add, I was never attracted to her, when she bounced into the room to announce a topic. She took over after my last GCSE teacher for History simply left one day, but that is a story for another time. Anyway, yes, she was an avowed feminist, hence the 'Ms', and I found that fascinating. I credit her with introducing me to the concept of feminism and aligning much of my future interests: it is through her that I love Russian history, that I even know about female revolutionary leaders and why I delved deep to find more. Oh, and when I went back to see her after a year at University she didn't remember my name much less recognise me as a student she taught for four years. I digress.

A temporary exhibit.

You can probably write your own caption at this
point.

At one point of the Medical Museum, then quite new, there was a section talking about modern medicine and it included a bit on pregnancy. There was, then quite new, a sympathy belly at the end of it. Ms Higgins asked for male volunteers to try it, because feminism, and eventually began to pick people as none were forthcoming. Reader, I wanted to volunteer, I really did, but I didn't. When I look back all I can remember is the overwhelming need to wear that belly, to try it on, to see what it was like. The nameless yearning that I would not fully identify until some time in 2022 to be pregnant. I burned in red embarrassment, though probably only on the inside, and went dry mouthed. I could feel the sweat on my palms, though I suspect nothing showed on the surface, as I realised that my want to try this thing on was probably something best kept as a secret. I sensed that this was something Different and Odd. I was not picked. I did not try it on.

It was pre-me-having-access-to-the-internet
and it turns out that school libraries don't have
a great deal on this sort of thing.

I should know, I looked.

Many years later, leading a trip as a teacher in 2006 or 2007 the belly was there again, but there was no time. This was true in 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011 and 2012 too - each time I would be on a different part of the trip and did not even see the section, let alone the belly. Finally, in 2013, I was on the right part of the trip in the right part of the museum and the belly was there, a sad thing and very  much worse for wear, having never been repaired or updated since I first set eyes on it in 1996. I wanted to, very much, wear it. But I did not. It was not really appropriate for a teacher and, besides, it was too small. Back in 1996 there had been two versions: a big one for adults and a smaller one for teens. In the end, in 1996, several girls tried it on and a couple of boys were embarrassed by Ms Higgins. In 2013, I lusted once more but swallowed my urge and did nothing, not even drawing attention to it to the students (though a couple of the girls spotted it and tried it).

And that's it.

It is another artefact of a journey where I definitely knew something but failed to parse what it was that I knew and how it was a thing. A combination of Section 28 and my own social inadequacy meant that I assumed that to be trans and straight meant that I would have to like men to be a woman (and I did not like men) and did not really understand lesbianism. I recall, around 1995, when a girl in my form came out as lesbian and finding her instantly even more interesting (she was always of interest to me) and not really understanding why that should be the case. I also remember assuming that this meant I could not even talk to her, she was not into men. So I never did. Maybe that was the ASD.

Wistful sigh.


Hey, look, I know. I know. I had a wife who was pregnant
three times and had no fun in any of those times.

I know about morning sickness, about the pain, about the social
dickishness surrounding pregnancy, the invasions of privacy,
the bad assumptions, the bad faith, the appalling science of it
all and how doctors routinely misunderstand even the basics
because it is a women's issue and our society reacts poorly
to that. I know. But it is not a rational response that I have.

Last night, replaying the feelings and the emotions from 1996 and from 2013, I felt them all again, as raw and powerful as the first time. I felt the sadness, then as now, from the fact that the facsimile was as close as I would ever, can ever, get to the real thing and how, because of missed opportunities, I do not even know that much. Nor will I ever. Missed opportunities. Had I known, had I realised, had I acted: would I have started transition in 1996? I mean, yes, without a shadow of a doubt. I remember well enough to know that if I had known it was an option I would have done so in a heartbeat. Instead I had a testosterone fuelled puberty and all that it entailed. And, now, looking back, I recognise how much damage that did me at the time. The confusion, the feeling of betrayal as my body did things I didn't want it to do. The feeling that I had to get used to it, because that's what growing up meant. I wanted to grow up, I never wanted to sprout the hair I did in the places I did, nor have my voice drop, nor the sweat, the... Other Things. I wanted none of it. By 1996 my journey was practically done in that regard, just the beard left to go, and I hated it. Hated it. But how could I voice that for which I had no vocabulary to people who would not understand my framing of it? Certainly I did not understand whence came the feeling that my body was betraying me. I liked my body. But I hated what it was doing.

It's the only one I have. But I wish, I wish, I had acted sooner. I wish I had the vocabulary back then. But, I didn't.

So, I wanted so badly to try on that pregnancy belly, and I didn't. Out of fear.

Doctorin' the TARDIS

I want to talk about Doctor Who. I haven't watched a full episode of the show since... uh... time. But, recently, I have had the opportunity to watch all three specials and, well, I enjoyed the time spent doing so. None of them felt like they dragged (I checked the time on the last special but not for negative reasons) and they were all decent episodes within my own canon. Are they 'specials' worthy? I don't know. Are they 'anniversary' worthy? I don't know. My own enjoyment is based primarily on the series I grew up with (McCoy's in case you were wondering) and watching NuWho (I think that's what the cool kids called it at the time) until I didn't any more.

The Star Beast

I had very little knowledge of any of the hype going in. I knew nothing of the pedigree of the story or of the main alien 'the Meep'. I liked it. It was mid-tier romping that I recognised from the Tennant era when I watched it and was engaging enough that the 'plot-holes' I thought I was spotting turned out to be main points that the story used to explain things (shots not blowing stuff up and lack of damage, oh! The aliens were firing non-lethal weapons because they're the goodies actually). I liked the trans character, because of course I did, and the way the story around her was handled. I think Davis treated it mostly well and always sensitively. I thought the final resolution of the meta-crisis (I didn't know it had a name) was whiffed a little even if the idea was sound. Here Davis showed a little bit of confusion over what trans-narratives are but, hey, he's cis and he means well and, honestly, this is Doctor Who. I imagine it plays well to people not wholly immersed, as am I, in the mire. Miriam Margoyles is perfect for her role, I didn't hate Donna (quite a move to pull) and yeah, nice.

Wild Blue Yonder

Oh I loved this a lot! The concept was not initially something I was on board with but once the Not Things turned up and started talking? Oh, I was hooked. I loved it. I am uncultured, the horror elements worked just fine on me because I do not know horror tropes. I was legitimately freaked out by the size changes and the bending and the running. I loved how different aspects of the characters played off the Not Things in a couple of exchanges, I liked the reflection and duality of the scenes, the way the plot allowed for things to happen so that they seemed perfectly natural. I liked the Doctor taking on the lesson from Rose in the first special when referring to the dead alien captain's pronouns and the Not Things too. I liked the genuine horror of thinking the Doctor saved the wrong Donna (and he did for a bit) before realising. The opening I thought was random and tacked on, but assumed it would filter in to the next special so wasn't thrown out by it (the fact that they referred to gravity as mavity throughout, I thought, a nice continuity). It was an enjoyable episode, more than a romp, much better than the enjoyable Star Beast and I was so glad I took the time to watch it.

The Giggle

I loved how this opened. I liked the establishment of the Emporium and the character of the Celestial Toymaker (Neil Patrick Harris) at the start in Soho. I loved the way the racism played an organic role in setting the antagonist as a bad character. I liked how the Doctor was roped in by UNIT. I liked the characters, I liked the bit about music, how Donna was able to spot something no one else had yet (which worked given the situation). I liked the horror of the Toymaker's domain and the way it was used to set up the plot points necessary. Spiceworld? Inspired! Brilliant, loved it. The balls and the sudden deaths of the guards coupled with Tennant saying, with genuine grief: "they're dead, I'm sorry, we have to move on!" whilst a face screams from a ball held by a character. Scary and proper Doctor Who. I was fully invested when Tennant seems about to regenerate. I... feel artistically that the bi-generation was not needed. Like, if Gatwa had shown up and tag-teamed the way he did but from another TARDIS with a kind of: "you rang?" to the Toymaker, that would have had the same effect. It would have lended weight to Gatwa's line that he was fixed because Tennant had done the rehab in his past but Tennant's future. Having them both... I dunno. It's not world breaking for me but it did detract from an otherwise masterful scene. Oh, "What about my men?" "I think they're still falling." Cold. Ice cold. I really enjoyed it as an episode, it just wasn't as good, for me, as Wild Blue Yonder. Also, much messing with timeline unsolved. Gatwa as the new Doctor? Yes. Very yes.

And them's my thoughts. Hot takes? Uh... Is that what the cool kids are calling it now? Probably.

That's my post, that's the blog. Gotta go work now.

Don't click beyond the line break. This is not a place of honour.

Tombs of Atuan

I like this artwork, I think it channels the book and plot 
really well and lines up nicely with my own mental 
depiction of the setting. 

I recently finished reading The Tombs of Atuan at work. I have a habit of filling dead time whilst waiting at bus stations or between services with reading and, ages back now, read A Wizard of Earthsea whish was... fine. It was fine. But I figured I'd do something different afterward, cue Pratchett and such. Anyway, having finished the marathon trial that was Dominion (ugh) I found myself without a book at work and dug the compendium of Earhsea books back out of my locker. Anyway, the second book, aforementioned, follows a young girl being groomed as the reborn priestess of a death cult on a faraway land. Ged, the mage from the first book, only appears about three quarters of the way in and the adventure only happens after that but... but it is so engaging. Another story, like The Gift (which I also enjoyed), in which nothing appears to happen but so much goes on under the surface. I loved it. Honestly, it was amazing and there was a section that brought a lump to my throat when Ged calls Tenar by name, a name she has forgotten and only dimly knows, a name that I don't believe was in the text before that point.

Oo, nice artwork (the name of the file
says by whom and the title) and a link
to someone whose review works better
than mine. Oh, and I would have loved
to have read this at 10 years old: I wish I
had because... well.

Le Guin is a stonking author and this once again proved to me that I have missed out by not having read her stuff sooner. I love the way she is able to tell a story without relting on a conflict or actoion, these things exist and are used, but the engaging part of her work is about the characters and the world they inhabit. I love how the character conversations and actions are products of and hints at huge world building done in the background. So, this story, the whole of it only makes sense in small bits - it all hangs together but you need to think about it to get why things are happening (and not a lot happens, so there's ,lots of time to think). And, yes, the characters are engaging and clever (not, like, 'clever' but in the sense that they make sense on first glance, then there's a current of something else that doesn't seem to hang together as well as you reflect that then makes even more sense when more of the world is revealed). I love te way that Ged is drawn from Tenar's view, I love the way his kindness and soft-nature ends up being more important in the action than the action itself.

Like, the story tries to make all the actions small, insignificant (on their own), manageable. But the plot has far reaching consequences and impacts. It is the opposite of Dominion in that regard - a small and apparently pointless little place with no real geo-political impact and a character who seems young and uincertain, who has a core trait but is trying so hard to deal with cold and unfeeling surroundings without betraying who she is supposed to be. This unassuming plot, full of low-level intrigue and fascination in the small things (the directions in the Labyrinth and the routine of the days, the sense that nothing is happening and that they are apart from life as a whole). I love it. Because the big stuff is slowly revealed in the small things, the discussion about apples, the lonely girl in a room of her own trying so hard to live up to the small hype and hating it. Then we get Ged, who is introduced as a villain (nice touch) and then just... the interaction between Ged and Tenar is beautiful and I love we had that from Tenar's POV and that there is no romance here. The book passes the low bar of the Bechdel test and does it in spades and when Tenar and Ged interact - in that their conversations are... I love it, I can't properly put it into words.

And so, yeah, this is my sorta semi non-spoiler review. If you see this, read it, you won't be disappointed. And, yeah, I'm putting this here so I remember I read it.

I see the truth of it

Big fan of Lynch's Dune film here and misremembering which bits of it were included and which I learned from reading the book loaned by my then boss in 2006 followed by watching a loaned DVD of Lynch. I digress.

It's a me, from January this year... 

What is the truth to which I refer? Well, being me. I said in my last post that I have achieved much of what I set out in October 2021 as being what I wanted and... I have. That's the thing. One of the most beneficial things I have done, possibly ever, to myself has been dressing and living as myself all the time. For me, making that leap to presenting without my disguise (and that terminology is crucial, for people do not always 'wear disguises', but I did) and then living out there in the world remains one of the best decisions I have ever made. You may well rejoin with the idea that I have made a host of very poor decisions and thus the quality of my 'best decision' is suspect and I would respond that, yes, good point. Nevertheless, quality of my decision making aside, it remains my best decision.

On my decision-making... On Monday I was supposed to have Middlest overnight. Except that I had misread the message about this (now some two weeks prior) and simply not noticed this date. It was not recorded on my planner. I thought I had a free Monday evening. So when I was offered an extra five hours' work, I took it. It wasn't until Tilly texted about it (some two hours in advance) that I realised something was up, checked the original message (in disbelief) and discovered how wrong I was. So, I don't get to see Middlest this week at all, because of my ineptitude. What did I gain? About £45. So, now I know the price I put on seeing my children and it is low and desultory.

It's a me, from last Sunday.

Compare and contrast, I guess.

Didn't see the second Doctor Who special, having watched and enjoyed the first, because... I don't know. I haven't. Hopefully I shall see it tomorrow. Hopefully. Got Youngest and Tilly over in the morning. It's a day off. My hours on Friday have now been extended (0500 start, finish at 2000 - minus half an hour for unpaid break) and so... yeah. Two nights sleeping on the sofa due to the noise of dripping on the front door and outside my bedroom have come to an end last night. And I have friends who have real problems and nothing of any use to say to them. I did manage to sort and send a parcel though, so that is one job off the list. Just got Christmas to sort now.

Miss Warrington has been in contact, I reached out about a month ago and heard nothing, and that's been nice. She's living several of the dreams I had for the Department back in the day but was simply unable to get sorted due to my previously mentioned ineptitude, of course She's doing better, She is unencumbered by an eejit in the Department now. And I'm still considering doing some video lectures (not essays) and seeing what happens. But, to do that, I need to have the mental bandwidth to carry them out. Oh, and my Mum has now arranged to come visit on the day of the Chams Christmas do, because of course she has. See how that goes I guess. Right, shift starts soon, best get going.

Getting What I Want

Me, in the snow. 
I am returning from grocery shopping. 
You may notice that hoodie, you may 
not. But, also, the hat. I love this hat. 
Thanks Catherine, again, for the hat! 
It got a compliment as I walked out, by 
the way, from a lady that wanted one 
like it. Because it is an amazing hat. 

Oh, yeah, lighter foundation, elf rather 
than Estee Lauder. 

First of all: snow. Yes. We had some. Second of all, yes, that does mean that meltwater is rushing down the front of my house and from the guttering the roofers fucked up when they came last time. I have now learned (thank you Izzy) the proper term for what they should have been using to avoid this (ladder stand off brackets). Why, yes, I am a bit panicked by the noise of the water dripping down my front door. It's loud and constant and more than a little concerning given this house and leaks and damp. Oh, and yes, the water is almost exactly aligned with the damp patch in my bedroom, indicating the problems are indeed connected as I suspected. the roofers were in contact yesterday, being angry that I wasn't in when they tooled up unannounced yesterday just before my shift started. As they were being shitty with me on the phone about it they suddenly paused and added "oh, maybe we didn't tell you." You think? No shit, Sherlock! So, I shall be phoning again tomorrow to try and arrange a time when I may be in for them to come and fix the problems they have left and/or caused. Tossers. I may also have spent £10 so far today on power. It's been cold. My Dad and his wife did not visit because, you know, the snow and ice and bad road conditions and them being old and stuff. It's meant I have managed to shop for food and make a hotpot (still cooking as I type).

What? Oh! The title? Yeah, so, back in October 2021 I posted about what I wanted in the future and, well, that's been murbling about in the back of my brain recently. Part of why I found the last few days so hard, actually, was because I have had this semi-formulated thought in my mind and wanted to get it out, onto here.

So, I said I wanted to wear a skirt out there in the world sometimes and, well, I have more than achieved this goal. I go to work most days and my work uniform is a skirt and blouse. Like, that's just what I wear. In public. All day. And it... it is everything I hoped for and also, in a very good way, a total nothing. It's done without fanfare and it is gloriously normal. I no longer wear a persona, I am just... me. Admittedly I miss being able to perform and front like I used to but it is nice at the moment that I can just be myself and get on. I go to work, I come home and... that's it. I have stresses (side-eye to the house in general but leaks and roof in particular) but mostly I don't. I can muddle through on most days and just be me, dress the way I want and no one cares.

It's freaking cold.
This is midday!

Like, today I am wearing jeans (because it's freaking cold) and it's the first time I haven't worn a skirt in over a month. Or dresses I guess. The point stands. When I went bowling with the boys, at the last minute I ditched the idea of wearing a hoodie and added a skirt over my thick leggings - which was good, Tilly was wearing a hoodie and thick leggings - and I felt perfectly normal doing that. Goodness, it was such a nice feeling to bowl in a skirt: so much easier than I ever remember bowling being (and I enjoy bowling a lot). I wear make-up now as standard: at work someone commented on a photo of me (for the commendation I got) and pointed out that I looked different in real life because I had a rosier nose - I pointed out that I was blowing my nose a bit and didn't wear foundation over it and the interlocutor was surprised and said, I shit ye not: "well, it works for you, it's a good look." This from a woman several years my superior whose make up game is pretty good. Like, I am coding mostly feminine.

I am not now, nor shall I ever be, the girliest girl ever to girl. But, well, I've said before and I shall reiterate: if I had been lucky enough to have been born in a way that everyone went: "yup, girl" from the start I'd likely have been mostly a tomboy anyway. Well, not entirely girly at any rate. I stand by that and, I would argue, seem to be tacking mostly there. It is how people seem to be interacting with me at work at any rate (passengers don't count in this instance, it's hard to know in the seconds we have exactly how nuanced the treatment is, mostly I'm just gratified that some automatically read me as a woman - by no means most).

Also, I watched a video essay by the Leftist Cooks about guilt and self-care and justice and apologies and... Thought-provoking stuff. I am not good at apologising. Maybe it's the ASD, maybe it's my upbringing, maybe I'm just a bad person: but I struggle with acknowledging the hurt I cause people in a way that allows them to know their hurt is acknowledged. Thus I cannot offer the apology that they need from from me that would allow me to help in their healing. I remain, forever, outside of that process. Not just Tilly, but mostly Tilly. Equally, my own readiness and willingness to offer the gift of forgiveness when people hurt me does not, in any way, encourage reciprocity because that's not how gifts work. Is it unfair? Well, no, when read in that way, it is simply the consequence of being ready to forgive in a world that requires a little more from perpetrators to recognise the hurt they caused. And I cannot do that work terribly well.

Chams Christmas looms and I have even booked the day off beforehand and afterward, ostensibly to attend. But I'm not sure I can. Everyone there would welcome me, would be lovely. But I am not sure I can.

I also spent the morning watching the latest hbomberguy video and it was, as always, very much worth my time but he also referenced Kaz Rowe (whom I am indebted to Abbi for introducing me to) and that was a nice link. But it also raised another thing, like: I used to make videos and I guess I'm a creator as a consequence. A creator who is, well, trans and thus, you know, part of the QUILTBAG+ community. So, like, maybe I should indulge that part of myself that has been musing over the last week or so about recording my old Russian history course as a series of videos and, well, lean into them being more... youtube essay things rather than lessons. I mean, I have the resources, I have my stories and anecdotes and... Maybe I have something useful to say. I dunno. That's what narcissists think too.

Being Selfish

Yesterday, on the bus, I got to realising that I haven't sorted my Dad's birthday present or card. He visits tomorrow. Oops. So, I felt pretty down returning to my cold and damp house and crawling into bed sometime around half midnight. I'd also recklessly agreed to phone him this morning, along with have a shower and do grocery shopping and wrap presents and sort lunch. I have managed a shower. I have managed nothing else. My Mum rang - she was concerned that I had managed to get some damp-proofing work booked for 22 December and wanted to know if I knew if I would be free for some holiday dates I'd asked for. Cue much passing between two, she said unconnected, issues over the next few minutes: why not cancel the damp work until later in the year? Why could I not just ask for the days off? Why had I not got a builder to look at the leak in my bedroom? Why had I not got the roofers round yet to deal with the work they'd done? Have I booked a plasterer yet? Maybe I should get the roofers to deal with the leak in the bedroom; why haven't I sorted my Dad's present? Maybe I could get him some alcohol. Oh, yeah, the [redacted] so maybe not. Fine, get him a book token then. Of course there's somewhere in town will sell book tokens, don't be stupid! (there isn't, for reference, I've tried this before). I shared that this was all getting on top of me and that I was lucky I'd managed to get anything booked at all re building work. Yes, I was aware that the situation with my roofers is annoying. Yes, the date was annoying for the damp proofing work. Yes, I did need to sort my bedroom. Yes, I know in order to book a train north I need to know my dates. Yes, it would be nice to have time off over Christmas and New Year. Yes, having bare wall will make the house cold. Yes, I have had my heating on.

Impasse. I shared the comments on my video lesson, how they made me happy but also sad because I can't teach any more. Mum started crying, she'd watched a documentary about a teacher who abused young boys but kept getting glowing references from places he left because none of the boys complained. He eventually went to South Africa and, now that the boys are grown and complaining, he can't be extradited to face trial and teaches in South Africa. And it was unfair, she wailed as she teared up, because I hadn't done anything like that and I said I couldn't reach again. Why not try adult education? I explained, less than patiently, again that I could not. Well, said she, life is hard but at least there is some happiness - was I not happy that-

I cut her off. No, I wasn't going to play that role for her. I was sorry she was upset, but the conversation had been upsetting for me from the get go and I wasn't going to play comforter now. I couldn't. I wasn't in the right place. The phone call ended.

So, now I'm a huge asshole on top of everything else. Fuck.

I start work at 1225, I'm on til gone midnight again. My Dad and his wife are due to visit tomorrow after 2pm, I have to have things sorted by then. They'll be fresh from a visit with my children - I can't be there if they want to see eldest. Well, that positivity from the last post lasted a while, didn't it.

Advent Time

A cropped photo of my get up the 
other day: fave hat, big coat, new 
gloves and mismatched tights and 
boots. Still, twas an effort. 

Got complimented on my hair yesterday on the bus, which was unexpected and, well, nice. I did some extra Christmas shopping - now I need to wrap things and send them - and that was good too. Did it in a free afternoon so I even felt productive. Also, at work, got commended for being polite to people on the bus, which was unexpected, but the result of a customer phoning in about it. It's... nice. But I do worry: when things fluff my ego is when I start making errors. Still, got some nice leggings for work and some over the knee socks (that are, but only just). I mean, I bought them, they weren't from work.

Bowling with the boys yesterday and then Middlest stayed overnight. The house is being cold again. My heating struggling against the cold and the damp patch on the bedroom wall stubbornly staying around and, well, continuing to get bigger. Less wet and dark, but more of it. I had some people round to look but they only do rising damp, not stuff getting in like that. They'll do the patches in the living room just before Christmas. Still no word from my roofer, but I have been in touch and been fobbed off.

I am trying to let compliments feel nice and not feel the need to belittle them and ignore them. It's hard. I didn't apply for the higher up post I was told about (and encouraged to apply for) because, honestly, I'm not ready. I know I could do it, and do it well, but it would stress me out and I would bring that stress home and probably sleep badly. Like when I was teaching. I would turn things over and over and... well, I'm not ready for it. Not yet. I need a bit more time learning how to be in buses, if you see what I mean. Besides, financially, I'm doing okay. Not as good as teaching, for sure, and it sucks not having a car but I am paying the bills and able to go and eat out and fund Christmas - these are all good things.