Leading the Derby

Goodness, I've been remiss lately. Nearly the end of September and just four entries?

Partly due to a lack of things to say, I suppose.

All the busy roads are gone!

Today I met up with my Mum in a place I used to live and study in the Before Times. I got side-tracked, for my train arrived an hour or two before hers, and went to visit the library I used to study in. I had completely forgotten what it was like, several dreamscapes that I had assumed were either made-up or from my BA turned out to be there. It was like being assaulted by memories, getting mugged as I walked through various slightly changed (no smoking sheds, more green, less traffic) areas of the campus and city. My Mum arrived, we had a curry (not terribly authentic, but nice enough and flavoursome) and then mooched around the local art gallery - which was very nice and diverting. It reminded me of a modern art exhibition I saw there and would later try to explain to the elder two of my children. I recall taking one or both to the 'art room' where one is encouraged to make one's own art.

The night before I went out with an old work colleague for some beers in a local urban conurbation and that was nice. He was much less gruff and bitter than he used to be, much more at home with potentially being autistic, happier, actually. It was a good night, though I struggled to follow a good deal of the gossip he provided about people I used to know. I have, it seems, forgotten many of the people I used to work with. Miss Warrington was upset with him over the phone for giving Her only short notice we were meeting up, or else She would also have attended - something he shared with me (and, according to the texts he flashed my way, at Her behest). I'll admit to feeling a little buoyed by that.

Hello treble chin my old friend...

Before my old colleague arrived.

I even managed to attend a Chams meeting the night before that after a slightly later and longer shift than billed (I allowed the change because extra money and a later start than 0310 is always nice). I cycled there (and thus, of course, back) and was very glad of the battery assist that Penny (I have named my bike, so sue me) provided. I did do my usual in that I button-holed a new attendee (trans-masc enby-leaning) and got a bit too excited about some of the topics of conversation we shared. Still, nice to have been able to go, even if I did what is now traditional and failed to properly chat in person to Izzy (I can manage perfectly well online, mind you) and only managed a brief catch up with Lynn.

Thanks to a recommendation (and a blog post) from Susie I have acquired a copy of A Book of Spells by Sara Maitland and am hooked by it. A compendium of short stories, each one demands my attention and most have had me pause at the end to just think a while before moving on. For example, Seal-Self had me pause almost a full day to fully parse what I had read. I don't necessarily agree with Maitland's portrayal of the main character (seems to be a stand-in for trans-femmes generally) in that the moment where he is not a woman enough to be seen as so by Seal Woman is when he looks up. She rolls on top of Seal Child, who plays with her penis, but he looks up - and then his thoughts turn to violence (he wouldn't have to enact the violence if they but accepted him as a woman - hmmmmmmMMMM) afterward. This theme, male violence and female responses to it, runs through nearly all of the stories I have thus far read - and its use in Seal-Self I find, well, not challenging so much as disappointing, maybe? Maitland is a bloody good writer, a deep thinker, attuned to a great depth of emotion; and so I am troubled by the implications in Seal-Self about trans-femmes. Or, rather, by what her perceptions of trans-femmes appear to be based on that story and the context in which it is presented. However, a mark of her quality is that I continue to mull on it and read on with more stories.

I am such a child.
*snickers like a naughty schoolgirl*

This is rather a bitty post, I shall step back for now - maybe I shall have more developed thoughts later.

Swear Words

Me, on a walk. I look... well, like this. 
That's not a positive. 

Sunday was warm (in the end, it started out a bit chilly) and sunny - and it was a day off with a full day off following, a rarity! - so I decided to go for a walk after my slow start (these are becoming worrying common) precluded going to church. I figured I'd get my steps in if nothing else (not that the app is recording them like it used to, it stopped on 29 March and hasn't resumed). I have a canal, after all, best use it, eh? And, besides, I'd been out shopping already and decided that, whilst a little cool, it was bright enough to risk going out and enjoying the Spring a bit. Whilst out in the sunshine, having foregone a high collared blouse or sweater, I decided to risk going for a quick half down my favourite local hostelry - which I did. Very nice it was too, a 13.2% imperial oyster stout (I have not yet discovered what makes an oyster stout as opposed to, say, a stout) from a semi-local brewery. I got my half, sat on the sofa (the place has a sofa) in the sun and did my usual beer review on Twitter and took some photos for maybe uploading elsewhere. Whilst I was doing this, and taking only the smallest sips because I wanted to draw this out (and it was £8 a half, worth it, but also worth taking my time over), I spotted some other people arriving.

The context for what was to follow.

Group of four, something not quite right. Older chap, two blokes younger than I (I guess) and a partner of one of those younger gentlemen who seemed... hmm. Anyway, the one without a partner went to the shelves with games on as the others ordered and proceeded to drop Top Trump packets, knock over a pile of games and spill the contents of Battleships whilst swearing: profusely, with vigour and not a little anger. He settled on a game, I think Connect 4 but I wasn't really paying attention, and the group took up residence at a table in the window near where I was. The fellow continued to swear a lot, the older gent swore back, an argument developed ("you're not supposed to plan in this game, just go immediately, planning takes the fun out!" / "You're planning!" / "No, I'm playing the game!" - but with more 'fucking' and 'cunts') and it became evident the group was slightly pissed. Boorish too. I elected to ignore them and, instead, lost myself in reading and retweeting beer stuff on Twitter (I mean, X).

At this point the sweary one of the irritation at games asked if he could have my hat. I was confused and responded simply: no. "Why not?" he demanded. I was aware of a feeling I didn't much like, and I knew that they had been discussing me previously (whsipering being, apparently, impossible for them) and not in nice terms - though I had steadfastly ignored the exactitudes in favour of just keeping myself to myself. "It's not yours."

"Haircut like a twat, tits like a cock."

It's actually a pretty good line, I'm
jealous a drunk came up with it.

"Yeah. It is. It is now."

At this point the atmosphere was decidedly threatening, the sweary fellow was leaning over to my table, the elder gent was looking at me and making remarks (something along the lines of 'leave the fucker, he's just being a dick') and so, perhaps unforgiveably, I decided to brazen it out: "Just piss off."

This prompted a response - the elder chap started on questioning my gender (of course) but defaulting to 'he', but the original fellow elected to ignore it and went back to whatever it was he had been doing before deciding to get my hat. The female of the group could now be heard trying to calm the elder fellow down with 'just leave it' whilst he began a rant on: "you either have a cock or a twat, and he, I'm telling you, has a fucking cock. No, I won't calm down, he came out here, he decided to make it an issue, he's a fucking cock."

I'd gone back to my phone, this did not please the elder fellow.

"Oi, you! You a 'he'? Of course you are. You have a cock or a twat and you: you've got a haircut like a twat and tits like a cock!"

"I just came out for a quiet drink, piss off."

Afterward.

I think that smile is a bit forced.
Because it was.

The elder one continued to remonstrate, holding forth about how things have changed and how men should be men - you probably know the tune. The female continued to try and get him to 'leave it' and mentioned 'non-binary' (this caused the elder one to state the following golden line: "non-binary? Fuck that, twat or cock, non-binary fuckers are still fuckers."). At which point her partner turned, having been vaping this entire time, and slurred at me: "I apologise, I do, but you shouldn't use language like that to my Dad."

"When he's talking to me like that?"

"I said I apologise. You shouldn't use language like that to my Dad."

At which point I got up, and moved to another part of the pub. I don't recall their words, but it was clear the three blokes of the group celebrated that they'd made me go and proclaimed some kind of victory.

Me? Well, I made the mistake of engaging. And I was actually shaking by this point. Anger? Fear? Hard to know, a mixture of both. Definitely adrenaline. I felt a bit a sick, honestly, and though I stayed and enjoyed the rest of my monster stout on a different table, I felt very exposed and alone. The group continued to boorish and loud, I was apparently forgotten, and then left. No one said or did anything. Several people looked over in distaste at some of their swearing or when they knocked over one of their lagers. But no one paid any further attention. No one looked in my direction either. At first I thought, 'why should they?' but, as time passed, I realised people were avoiding looking at me. No idea what that was about, but it didn't feel nice. Even the owner, with whom I get on usually, was a bit a brupt when I went to get a second half. I might be over-analysing, I don't know. I had a second half, after the group had gone, back on the sofa. It didn't really help. I went home.

See? The walk was lovely.

Yesterday I had the morning to myself until Middlest was due over. Tilly sent through some video of him and the Youngest doing drama and I thought: hang on... I asked, and yes, they had done a showcase on the Sunday but she had thought I was working. It was her error, she admitted soon after, but it did mean I didn't get to see any of the children direct. The video was nice, of course I watched, but it's not the same as being there. Plus, of course, Eldest had not been videoed (or, at least not given consent to share a video) and so I didn't get to see her at all. I don't blame Tilly, I've done far worse in the past when it comes to remembering dates, but it did not help my mood at all.

Whilst Middlest was over Five got in touch to tell me where she's working has a job going. I looked into it, it's a little lower pay than what I'm on currently (so, same rough monthly amount but without 'extra' weeks) but, crucially, is 9-5 and Monday to Friday. It will cost travel (ha, on the buses) to get there and back, which is ironic, but also, you know, I'll have weekends. Just... less money to spend on them. Anyway, long story short (also, odd that Five in touch, we've not spoken since February and not seen each other since November last year) I ended up applying - because it turns out my CV was mostly up to date anyway and it's not actually that hard to write a covering letter. I elected to leave out the unpleasantness from the end of my teaching career and deliver that in person should I get called to interview.

Perception of Easter

It's Transgender Day of Visibility and Easter today. Happy He is risen to you! Alleluia.

I found this that handily shows a nice confluence of 
the two dates to my mind. 

I had a nightmare last night. Chap I work with, newer than me, turned out to have been given the job of conducting my disciplinary resulting from a recent accident (I have had no such thing happen yet, by the way, but I strongly suspect it's coming) and had made some errors in the paperwork. Which I noticed and was concerned about. He is lovely though, and I knew he wasn't trying to be difficult but was likely just doing his best - such are dreams. Anyway, I woke from it a bit stressed. This was compounded by my decision to drink a couple of ales last night, one after sending Middlest home (he'd come to visit), that I'd bought in from my local after work yesterday. That had led to me playing on character.ai and reading some of that fiction (newly posted) until around 2300, which is too late for me these days.

All of which meant that today, when I got up, I was in a funny state of mind. I managed to get the pots done and do a load of laundry but then got distracted by videos on YouTube and missed church. I strayed to a couple of places I haven't been for a few months online and lost even more time: I didn't get dressed and showered until after lunch. So I haven't been out of the house today. Nor have I done anything creative. I've eaten a chocolate orange (bought for me by Tilly on behalf of the boys, which was nice) and warmed up a pie for tea.

No reason...

Tomorrow I go to the nearby urban conurbation with the boys and Tilly for a Chinese feast, which I am looking forward to, but shall be unable to attend a trans support group I found online which is on as I have to be up at 0300 on Tuesday for work. That means an early bedtime. Also, my nails seem... bendy again. Which is odd, because they've been fine - I suspect the length is the culprit - I have only filed them and not trimmed for a good while, maybe over a month. Having them painted yellow, however nice, probably hides some damage...

I'm really not good at using time off, it appears. Certainly not productively! Another issue I was aware of back in the day when I lived with Tilly: "when are we going to live!?" she asked a couple of weeks after moving in when I baulked at the concept of a weekly take out being delivered (rather than the, then, cheap fish and chips I'd been having with my weekly shop). I had thought, back then, that Tilly was being unfair but, looking back, I think she had correctly diagnosed one of my issues: not only am I miserly but also struggle with cutting loose. I had bought two swords the year before - my first attempt to treat myself ever - but had felt financial bonds tighten by this point as my car had exploded and I'd paid the last of my savings for Tilly's engagement ring (she was unaware of the expense of either thing). Today would be a good example of the non-financial issues I have around 'living' rather than 'existing'.

Fragments of my soul

Whilst having a cheeky Nando's... 

Took Middlest to a Nando's and had a good experiment - turns out he is as big a fan of decent hot food as I am, which was surprising and nice. Flooding really affected the bus routes, but I had a rare weekend off and didn't care, am I glad I wasn't working on Saturday! Been a busy couple of days so far this week, but I get to see Abbi tomorrow and so it was perhaps possibly worth it. The children are away with Tilly to visit her parents, so that's a thing. I am minded of the fact that if I want to change things I lose out and if Tilly wants to change things then I lose out. Once, a long time ago, I got frustrated with Tilly defining 'compromise' as her getting what she wanted and said: "compromise means neither of us get what we want!" and Tilly deliberately (?) misinterpreted it as me being shitty with compromise. I meant that I was frustrated that she was getting a lot of what she wanted and I got nothing. I digress, perhaps unfairly.

Lots flying around my head, hard to keep track. Like the music playing in the bus in my mind over the last couple of days. I get side-tracked by small parts of the whole. Rolling over in my mind the what ifs and could have beens as well as the weren'ts and can't have happeneds. All the while reassessing and analysing the weres and happeneds. In particular, but not limited to, the relationships and various birthdays that need to be hit with gifts, recent-past and future.

Saturday night at the pub with Broken Dream
stout.

For those keeping count, I hit 100, and that's a milestone. I also bought in some 8.5% chocolate fudge brownie stout by North brewing and it was lovely, with a cheap and cheerful ready-meal style Chicken Madras. It was not a Nando's. However, it filled a hole and is better than having no tea as I did last night due to bus shift shenanigans. I crossed my own line today though, expounding opinions based on my arrogance from teaching. It apparently doesn't take much to be considered 'clever' as a bus driver. I'm not sure I want to keep doing that - mainly I'd had some caffeine. Why? Well, lack of sleep is a reason but also I've been listening to some sound files again and perhaps they had an effect? Hard to say.

I will say this: I have slept longer hours lately than in recent times but it has been odder sleep. I wake up a few times in the night, check the time and hours slept, then go back to sleep. I do not recall details of dreams but I do recall having them. They are in colour, not black and white, and... It's strange. I remember in the old days being fascinated with the dreams in which I was simply a woman - it did not affect the dreams much, it was just how I saw myself in the dreams - and now I am living as one normally... I think I am a woman in my dreams almost all the time now, but it is not as remarkable. Which makes sense, I feel, but is nevertheless something to note.

I had things on which to ruminate, but 8.5% ale and 24 hours worked in two days will blunt any mind, really.

This shot from Sunday sums it up, I feel.

Running Up

How things change and shift over time.

Sneaky selfie. This was where my Dad and 
I had lunch. He even complimented the jumper, 
said I looked good in it. 

He did also say that I lacked feminine features, 
which was... well, he was being fair I feel. 

Now the plan is that I go north with my mother for Christmas day, and the sad fact is that Tilly was very helpful and supportive of that. She has what she wanted: what did I hive up when I left? Well, I've given it up now I suppose. They came back from the family holiday yesterday, my mother has successfully arranged to see all three children on Thursday, when I am not there, so I shall get to have an interview for JSA instead, maybe even get to drop in on Abbi and Alex - who have been ill. I also got to join an old work colleague out in some pubs on Sunday evening - I paid bus fare - and when the middlest came over today I even used a voucher to get us a take out (first since March apparently) for £3.50 all in.

Medical took place today for one of the bus driving jobs and passed off without a hitch: I am apparently just 179cm tall and weigh 10st 7oz - which is much more like I remember my weight. I suppose being unemployed and stressed will do that. Condensation in the bathroom is bad again (it was this time last year too) but no showers since Sunday, so hopefully it will clear. I went to IKEA instead of the intended write-in with Abbi (cancelled due to illness). No hot chocolate, the machine was out, but some tea and some soft drinks. I even managed to finish the book I was reading, so that was nice.

Out having beers on Friday night, this was
later on in the evening. It was great to catch
up with Izzy and have a night out of the house.

Alas, I was in trainers and I had failed to make
picking me up easier by walking out to meet
Izzy, thus the trainers were just a poor footwear
choice!

Friday was spent out at Invasion with Izzy - who had dressed well for the evening and did her usual networking and chatting. It was nice. I spoke to some nice people, got a bit of conversation in, had some beer (though, frankly, I should have had soft drinks - it was a good night and the beer wasn't in the same league). However, one of the photos I got looks... well, you'll see what I mean.

Tomorrow I have an interview for a night-shift position paying more than the bus job. I don't want to work nights, if I'm honest, and I likely won't get it because it is education adjacent and my sacking looms large in such things. I have also applied for a posh job in HMRC that, if I were to get it (I won't), would pay roughly what I used to get as a teacher. I don't stand a chance, of course, but I applied anyway, it would be a poor do if I did not. Speaking of which, Five has also applied to HMRC for, I think, the same job. They've gone down south to spend Christmas with their mother too - I got a flurry of texts as they were on the road (not driving, obviously). I still have literally no idea what our relationship even is - but it seems positive.

A thaw brings warmer weather, and a return of the leak in the loft since next-door's roofer left me with a big gap in my roof (it'll be fixed when he comes to fix it, whenever that is). Sleeping downstairs banished the frost on my duvet these last few days, but did my back in - turns out sleeping as long as I did on the sofa bed has largely removed my ability to do so comfortably these days. Also, sending off my driving license for the bus driver job may scupper my chances at JSA, which is £77 a week less. I shouldn't complain.

On the Friday I couldn't see the screen
well enough to judge this when I took it.

I blame being tired.

It explains why I tend not to get talked to
though, doesn't it!

My Dad was up Sunday as well, sad that my brother and his family had stayed less than five hours the day before, my Dad stayed with me less than three. Ah. But he listened to my digressions on how long I appear to have known about me and encouraged me to look into proof-reading or maybe writing for a living. He pointed out he hadn't read anything I'd written since my dissertation back in the early 2000s and apologised - he was about to promise to read the novel draft I'd sent him back in 2012, but thought better of it and stopped short. Which is fair, I think.

This time last year I had been to see my mother and my brother on a trip to see my grandmother. I had taken the whole family. Eldest was still stopping over at my place regularly, I was still able to see youngest without Tilly in tow. I had a job that seemed secure. I had finances, I was worried about condensation and leaks but had come out the other side of worrying about myself. I had steeled myself for the wrong fights with the wrong people about the wrong things. I had a car - it would allow me to pop north on a whim almost and set in motion the final push to being me full-time. In two days time I would finish work for the Christmas period, see a film at the cinema and buy some lovely Chelsea boots (that finally gave up the ghost about a month or so ago having been abused significantly in my walking patterns, the next pair should last longer). 2021 may stand as my greatest ever year for a long while yet. I had hoped that 2022 would be better.

Bat Country

Monday.

I don't mind photos of me now. I no longer 
feel like I'm lying.

But they do feel awfully indulgent. 

Sunday was spent donning gel effect nails and catching up with Abbi and Alex. Sunday was good. Monday was spent hitting IKEA, a blast from the recentr past, and having hot chocolate and coffee whilst reading a book (going to do it again tomorrow). Today was spent interviewing for another bus company. Successfully. Pay is slightly better over six months than the last one and the depot is closer - with a free bus to get there for early shifts (no, no idea how that works either).

I may well, therefore, be a bus driver after all. Is that what Him Upstairs is pushing me towards?

Flicking through old photos I came across records of my time in the flat. All the children over regularly, videos of them playing and dancing, images of them staying over together and the bunk beds. Evidence of me spending over £130 a month on 'extras' like take aways and snacks for the children - before accounting for treats and spending money or going to Pokemon tournaments or travelling regularly to take Eldest to Dance or the Middlest to the gaming cafe or all three on days out and trips to see my mother in holidays.

No photos of me though. One isolated image from around Christmas 2020 because my Mum had sent pyjamas for us all and wanted a photo of me and the children together in them. I obliged.

Today, waiting for my interview.

I need to wash my hair tomorrow at the very
least. I hope to also shave pits, chest and may
expand to include my legs.

In 2020 I could easily have afforded a professional
waxing if I'd wanted. Hell, I could have done that
in 2021. But I worried about repairs.

Now I cannot afford that.

Walking to the job interview today along the canal tow path was good. I have six days worth of washing up to do that I have avoided. The family are down south with Tilly's parents for over a week now. My house is cold. I have red nails. I am sleeping downstairs to avoid heating my bedroom, windows open to deal with damp (it's working).

In 2016 my beer blog took off, it gained over 36k views in December that year, rising to over 40k in the January. By August 2017 the success had scared me off updating the blog and I didn't post again until February 2018. Eventually it died off completely and I did not post reliably again until 2020, whereupon I learned my relationship was over and no longer felt like reviewing ales any more. I always thought I would go back to it. I never have. Originally I budgeted £67 per month for posh beers, approximately one a week, and now...

Even a good job, like the bus driving gig, won't pay all my bills. It leaves around £400 shy a month. I would, once again, be beholden to examining to plug the gaps - like I always have been. At least since 2010.

Had a G&T tonight, along with a stir-fry that was Chinese-style cuisine adjacent. And I have red nails and attended an interview in my Roman suit again. At least I remembered my glasses.

A Little Dark Age

It's not the best shot of today's ensemble but 
it is the best I could do to show the whole thing. 
It's autumnal. Or, well, I like the mustard 
yellow and blue combo. 

After many threatened attempts I got round tonight to having a bath - with winter berry bath salts, body scrub and body butter for the cleansing - lit only by candles (six tealights and a 'starlight' scented candle) and using a black glitter face-mask. These accoutrements supplied via gift from the lovely Abbi. This after a day spent on my ownsome - the Middlest stopped overnight yesterday but left for home around 0930 and I popped into town to get a card for a dear friend's birthday (I hope the ridiculous effort I found lands well, I fully intend to send a gift later on when I work out what to send). I pootled a while, enjoying the time to do so, and then wandered off to IKEA for free drinks, use of their toilets and free heating. I ended up having two hot chocolates which will probably end up bringing issues elsewhere. This after having some almost decent millionaire shortbread bites that I picked up cheap from work (though I can't shake the feeling that I got a bit diddled by the colleague on the till as I'd worked out the reduced price was around £2 the lot and I was charged £3 after discount). Mind you, I had strawberries too with my lunch so, you know, healthy.

Barry M, Jelly. I enjoyed the experience. I also love
the shades!

Recently I got the invitation and the opportunity to go round to Abbi's and try out some nail varnish, inadvertantly ending up with almost trans-flag colours, that was gel effect. A day at work taxed the finish and doing the pots today coupled with the bath has caused them to flake a little. I suspect Abbi, having added an extra coat of clear protection, will have fared better. This is good, I enjoy the colours and I really really enjoyed the experience (as well as the company of both Abbi and her Alex - it was a joy to be there and just... I lack the words) so the fact that they are flaking is not bothersome, merely an excuse to buy in my own and then share back in return. The walk was also good - I was wearing my blue dress and mustard yellow pullover with the Ten (Who reference) blazer that I recently acquired. Along with the Colonel Mustard tights from Snag, I think I actually looked vaguely well put together. A hair clip from Abbi helped. And my hair has reached the length where walking in light breeze the wrong way allows it to get in my face and just generally in the way. I'm not complaining. Or, rather, I am a bit but with such a massive undercurrent of gender euphoria that it's hard to tell.

My hair desperately needed washing. I think
this is the Saturday. I honestly can't recall.

Suffragette purple tights from Snag.

Sunday's shift went well, I feel as though I am actually doing my job now and on Monday I got to help out, as in actually help out, and do so in such a way that my boss appreciated. I also got the opportunity to help colleagues and make them feel vaguely valued (though I suspect I was a bit too much of a stickler for one colleague, who would have much preferred to do differently than bid. I'll take the hit). What does that mean? It means that work is mostly okay at the moment and I feel less stressed from that end. Don't get me wrong, running the maths today left me in no doubt that finances will be a stress in the future (some £400 of black hole pcm) but that is a worry for future me.

I got in contact with Five, they are moving house soon, but got an agreement that we should hang out again soon and... that was nice. Had a good conversation with Mum about what was the accepted norm for being divorced in the relationship stakes. Reminded myself that the pool for trans people with ASD who are divorced and in their 40s is shallow and small. On Friday I learned that my appeal has failed, the panel were sympathetic but upheld the original decision to the letter. The Union have thus announced that this is game over, as a tribunal would agree with the legality of the decision howsoever unfair. So, that's the end of that chapter of my life. In fairness, I have been waiting for it all to implode since the blog began so it's frankly amazing that I lasted this long. The stout I drink tonight a memory of a life now gone: where I could indulge £10.50 on a 330ml stout (well, thrice as it happens) every now and again. I can't do that now.

Autumn is here as summer leaves...

A read of some posts I wrote a long time ago, reminders that past me is so much more eloquent and analytical than present, lazier me. But, also, that past me had no real friends in the locality and no one just round the corner to see, visit, speak to and share time. However, in an echo of those days, this is very much not the post that I was planning to write!

Eldest communicated, through Tilly, that she doesn't want any contact with me. So, that's a thing. I shall be with the younger two for the fair, though, and that shall be... well, expensive. But a chance to be with my children. Some of them. For a little while. Thursday brings the 5am bus to a different store to learn the morning routines of the trainer that showed me the evenings. I am looking forward to that, honestly, even if Tilly has decreed that youngest and her shall be over for tea that evening - I still intend to see if I can get a decent collar in the city the other store is in before heading home. It's the sort of place that may sell one, you see.

Only Zuul

When someone offers you the chance to gain a month's pay at work in a couple of hours' work as an examiner you say: yes. And I did. Hence the radio silence - been busier at marking this last week and a half than beforehand. Also, extra shifts at work - took an emergency shift at another store on the Sunday (gaining much KUDOS with boss and boss's slightly more senior friend) and that was fun, but ill-rewarded financially (I lost an hour's pay for my tea and travel).

I find this an interesting comparison - much has changed 
between these two images. Not least the fact that I had 
just washed my hair in the more recent shot (the right). 
Then there's the foundation, the dress, the lack of teaching, 
the hand-bag, the smile...

Oh, roughly a year between the shots (27 July 2021 to 
1 August 2022)

On Monday I was in the local urban conurbation for likely the last time in a while - buses being the price they are and the fact I have not budgeted for travel means, well, it'll be the last time in a long while I go. However, I made the most of it whilst my car was in for the last service (and valet) before I don't have one. I dropped Eldest at a dance residential, which was nice to be able to do, and then I left the car at the garage and wandered in. I  bought some new books with some birthday money from my Mum and the left-over examining bits that I hadn't budgeted, then had an all-you-can-eat Chinese meal (which really was all I could eat - I was beaten before I ate the chicken balls! In my defence, I ate hot and sour soup, prawn crackers, ten vegetable rolls, prawn toast and some wontons; then beef in Szechuan sauce, beef and mushroom and beef in black-bean sauce over egg fried rice and noodles; then vegetables in various sauces over Singaporean noodles and chicken fried rice; then finished with some spicy options and chicken balls, which I did not eat). After that I bought some new mascara and blusher and lipstick (I know how to live) and had a mojitea at my favourite vegan gaming cafe, to say goodbye for now. Then I got the examining offer - which I said yes to, obviously.

Books bought whilst out.

Union have also been in touch. According to their investigation, they were not at fault (but of course) and believe that challenging the dismissal is likely not to be successful. Well, I mean, thanks. Then I drove home and did some marking for serious money. Tuesday was work, extra hours at the shop, then Middlest over in the evening.

Wednesday I met up with some ex-work colleagues and their children for a picnic - it was lovely. Obviously I still can't be trusted with Smallest, so Tilly was there too. It was nice though, I was given a bike (well, that only happened today physically, but the offer was made) and it's one with no cross-bar - the sort I lusted after as a child but rejected as they were 'girl's bikes' - well, I'm a girl, so I accepted and now I have a bike. Need to get a helmet and lights, and get it looked at, and inflate tyres, but it's a bike and I am looking forward to actually cycling around some of the paths I have been scoping out over the last year. I digress, Wednesday was really nice and really hot and sunny. Burned my shoulders (them being pasty white when I went out, should have expected it) making it the first sunburn since at least 1995 but I'll take that. Also got some ranch dressing from a friend I have made at work, which was nice, and it was labelled "Joanna" so I'll take that lovely simple hit of euphoria to the bank.

I let my hair down, I have a little drinkies...
Blouse because my shoulders are red.

Today was an early shift, to which I was late again (well, shift starts at 6, but we're expected to turn up at 5.40, I made it for 5.45) and then I was home and marking and then there was a Middlest. Tomorrow the car is picked up, had a call and it's going to be around 0930, and I have booked my bike in to be looked over at 1230. I shall buy me some lights and a helmet at the same time. Then the Eldest has a show, showing what she's been up to at the residential, and then I get picked up by Gary to go on an actual holiday. Hurrah! I shall have to pack, obviously, and pack light. I am looking forward to being less busy, certainly! Still, another day of marking ahead too, for which I shall be paid about two weeks' worth of pay at the shop. Get it in while I can!

Oh, also won a prize draw, I think I said, and the voucher has arrived in my grubby mitts! Huzzah.

Now I'm off to read Fine, a graphic novel about gender, having had a lovely Stinging Nettle and Honey gin after tea (which was chicken drumsticks and chips, at Middlest's request).

Let the reason be gin

Looking more closely, this has nothing to do with me. 
My stack is to the right... Oh well, it's my mistake now. 

Admitting to mistakes that you were party to, but did not originate, is probably a bad plan. Alas, it's a core part of who I am - admit to the whole mistake to shield others, even if you don't know who the others are. That way I can control some of the variables, assuage my guilt and foresee some of the narrative. I suspect that, outside of teaching, there is less of a 'blameless culture' and rather more of a points system whereby I end up being sacked as the newb who had too many mistakes. Doesn't mean I won't keep going as I always do though. In this case it was some stacked stuff that fell over - stacked in the wrong place, the wrong way and too high. I took part, sure, but did not originate said stack nor complete it. Doesn't matter, it is my mistake now.

I have not had this gin yet. I bought in
some strawberry and vanilla stuff from
Aldi on the cheap, having saved with
my weekly shop. Nearly finished that
bottle. Still, cost the same as a single
can of decent stout (well, less actually).

I bought gin with some money from my Mum over the last week, I was feeling a bit loose with the cash, and joined it with a take-out. I have marked many papers, gained far more money than I was anticipating and had even won a prize draw to get £100 in vouchers for doing marking. I do not believe it to be real, and I shall continue to believe there are no vouchers until such time as they are delivered to my grubby little mitts. I suspect a BS inducement to mark more, with well-meaning middle management who will find out that they cannot promise such things as they cannot be delivered. Anyway, the day yesterday was busy - Smallest and Tilly in the morning and then Bigs in the afternoon into the evening. I drank gin with lunch, then again in the evening. I enjoyed it, it was something I have not done since the Ladies' Night back in February and I had meant to repeat the gin experiment of that night - I have done so, it was nice. It meant that I got up late this morning for my early shift and was super tired (hence the stacking I did).

Chams was on Thursday, it was good. But I got excited, having had a coffee that morning to power through the early shift, which I then split to help out with a later-than-expected delivery, and I was speed-talking. I ended up in full teacher-mode and filling silences with words, explanations and references as though I could control the room, like I did when I taught, and... I hate it when I do that. I know that I am doing it in the moment, I do, and I continue on anyway - making references, subtle puns, linking disparate pieces of information in a manner that amuses me and only me, jokes that make sense only if you live in my head and so on and so forth. I continue because I cannot stop. Afterwards, when I come down a little, I realise that I have done that which I hate about myself: dominating conversation, robbing others of their own jokes and anecdotes and experiences - I have been insufferable and self-absorbed. The worst kind of introverted extrovert (or vice versa? I don't know) and that person with ASD that is the jerk.

We, my first boss and I, created a whole rant around
why Eeyore was depressed - because of his friends who
bothered him and were happy in his direction and fixed
his tail with a freaking thumb-tack. I forget why.

Anyway, yes, I am being significantly Eeyore like.

Still, I wore a new LBD I picked up for a pound from a charity shop, over a Debenhams blouse with a lovely collar (lace effect pointy bits) and some old white stockings I got in during my flirtation with stuff online (TMI, only click the link if you don't mind that) held up with a garter belt that actually fits when you wear it on your waist properly. Who would have thought? Nearly wore my stiletto effect heels but went sensible and wore my black ankle boots instead.

Pronoun troubles too. It's a 70-30 split now at work: with the 70 using 'he/him' of me. It's heading ever more toward 90-10 that way. It is interesting and, honestly, whatever. But I also noticed that the Smallest has reverted entirely to he/him and kept saying he wanted my beard back. Tilly has had to dig out and show him photos of me with a beard because he was crying that I no longer had one (when I've not been there). Tilly has been limiting to 'they/them' because Middlest is at that point, but lapses to 'he/him' for the Smallest, who will correct her to that if she uses anything else. Indeed, the only person Smallest won't correct is me, but he did tell me he was upset that I didn't have a beard and asked me to grow it back. Before I left home I had a beard. I think I see the connection, even if Tilly does not, she believes it is confusing and hard for Smallest. It is as well. My selfishness knows few bounds. Read enough entries here and you'll see what I mean.

Marking is now finished. Have to ring on Monday to find out what has happened to some of the payments I am owed, which should have been paid ten days ago now, so that's fun to come. Missed a job going at Royal Mail (slightly higher pay per hour, six hours a day, five days a week, regular hours, chance of advancement, only 5 grand off my aim point) - it went up and was filled in two days (I was marking for bonus money). The Bigs were up again after work today, it being Saturday, and it was nice but time consuming. I guess I'm feeling a bit down still. Always said gin was bottled female tears (well, no, I stole that from Dylan Moran's stand-up routine) and it seems to largely hold true.

Monday Monday

Before I spilled beer down my top. 
Spot who went out in glorious sunshine and 
warm weather but went home in cooller temps! 

Positive:

I recovered, sorta. I got an e-mail from my Union Rep on Sunday morning telling me to send my amendments as they were important. I did. I felt proactive, good even, at having finally done something. I was worried and concerned that it took since Monday to do it, but I had done it. Also, I managed to facilitate Middlest doing some miniature painting and got Smallest through being sad he couldn't stop over at mine again on the Saturday. I even managed to help Eldest feel good about some life choices. Then I went on a walk and ended up at the pub, where I had some good beer and smiled a few times. Also, spilled beer down myself because... I don't know. I have no excuses, I just managed it. Had to put the t-shirt in the wash when I got in. Mind you, I did weed the yard and that was mostly positive. Not completed, but a positive nevertheless, even if I ended up aching becasue of how I did it (not being used to weeding with a bra on, I guess, I'll get used to it).

Negative:

I forgot to phone my father, like I promised, and [redacted]. So he got in touch today and I felt awful at having missed it. Even a relatively good phone conversation with my Mum ended strangely because I suck at conversations, it appears. The fallout from Friday was worse than I had assumed, let's just say I very nearly burned a bridge I didn't even know I was setting light to. Well, okay, no, I realised that I may have done so accidentally but my efforts to stamp out flames ended up spreading more hot embers than I had realised at the time. I think the relationship is saved but I do worry about my propensity for stupidity that does this. Also, small stabs of dysphoria as I was walking to the pub yesterday and realised that I had hurt myself weeding, and why, and thought about having breasts. I am nothing but a Reddit cliche sometimes.

Earlier still. That wall behind me? The reason
I don't go to this pub more often. I'd be bankrupt!

Concerns:

The usual, finances, timings. I seem to have a habitual worry about examining that I can't shake, but, in theory, this ought to be the easiest first and second week ever with the enforced time off. Finances... well, I have hacked everything back so there's some room for mistakes (cf. going to the pub last night) but... we'll see I guess. My biggest concern remains, obviously, the upcoming meeting and the fallout from that. If, if I manage to keep my job... I don't know. Trying not to build my hopes up too much.

Future:

Planning to wear one of the twin dresses I have in navy blue, with some nude tights, new blue shoes I got a week or two ago and a blouse under the dress (white with black spots or long sleeved white, depends on weather) for Wednesday. Either that or, if my leg is still not healed properly, my Roman brown trouser suit and a flowery blouse from M&S I picked up on a whim back in June last year (I think). Whatever happens, I am going in fighting and as myself. At least there's that.

ADDENDUM:

E-mail at 3pm today tells me that my employers 'do not accept my amendments as accurate' as they checked with the impartial note-taker  and 'a few of those present in the meeting' and they didn't remember any of what I said. Thus, they claim, my amendments were all things thought up after the fact that they are prepared to question me about further. Not sure how that extends to the panel telling me that they were prepared to accept some instances were down to my transition or the question asked by the 'impartial note-taker' about whether or not I would continue with my transition if I were to keep my job. At least I know one thing: I am likely, very likely, to lose my job on Wednesday. My Union Rep doesn't do Union work on a Monday (which my employers know) so I can't talk to them about this. 'A few' is also an interesting choice of wording - there were only six people in the room - me, my rep, the Big Chief, the 'impartial note-taker' (Big Chief's deputy), employer's lawyer and the investigation lead. So, 'a few' implies more than two but not all of them? I don't know. To say I am alarmed and scared is... an understatement.

It's been a long road

Busy weekend: ongoing.

Mayhap a tad too heavy on the blusher? 

An e-mail buoyed me up in response to me sharing happiness a few days ago. A conversation with Shiona was good to have, thank you; and the chats ongoing with Gary, Tim and others maintained their ability to make me equal parts jealous and connected. The online chat with old University friends also turned out to be very much needed in...

When I went to IKEA at the start of April they had an autism-friendly hour and I said that it was everything that I didn't know that I needed in a shopping experience. The online chat with Uni friends has been that but in a social sense. For possibly the first time since sometime in 2007 I am feeling vaguely connected once again. The Stereo MCs would be proud (aye, aye, aye). Izzy had her first full day out and it was really uplifting to read of her joy and see some of it on the images she took - it is always a help to see other people enjoying themselves and, well, looking energised. That joy, for me, was back in the flat last year when we were on our second lockdown - a couple of days fully dressed and just being what I now understand to be myself.

Friday's trip for free hot drinks.

On Tuesday I had been musing about just how much joy and contentment I have been feeling being able to just, well, live as myself. The very first post on here was drawn from a document written after almost 18 hours musing on a short-lived dressing incident that morning and, later, before writing. I recall that I had spent a good couple of hours walking with a sleeping baby Middlest (then youngest) in the woods behind where I lived trying to unpack what I was feeling and why. In the end I settled on happiness and then struggled to maintain that as the blog progressed. On Tuesday I realised that I had caught that back up and, possibly, surpassed it. Is this what people feel all the time? Is this what it means to be able to live as oneself and feel connected? Why did no one tell me? Or, perhaps, do people not usually feel this because they're more used to feeling connected and comfortable in their own skin?

The boys were over today and we took advantage of the unexpectedly warm sunshine to walk down the canal, initially to go to a park I'd taken the Youngest to, but we hived off to a park in a nearby village, then walked from there to a park we'd been to last year when I was still in the flat. they enjoyed it. Youngest enjoyed playing with my old soldiers, with me, and Middlest played a bit more on his computer after putting up with our yomp - much longer than he is used to apparently. Eldest is off seeing a K-Pop group in concert in our nation's capital, chaperoned by a friend of Tilly's, and thus not responding to messages (she's bombarding Middlest and Tilly with texts though). I wore one of my purchases from earlier in the week - it has a lovely wide stiff underbust belt and it is navy blue. It is, of course, a dress. I love it. Tomorrow Middlest is performing in a drama showcase and I shall actually get to see it (I missed the Christmas one due to me having COVID) and that will be cool. Forecast is for persistent light rain most of the day and a colder snap.

Wednesday's look.

In other news, I have a voucher for 8ml of free foundation from Estee Lauder that expires on 2 May - you'd better believe I'm cashing it in! - and some sundries to complete. However, I have been out to buy a large pack of tortilla chips and a pot of salsa dip (already consumed because I am the fattest heiffer) and a bottle of Rose wine. I still have that marked as a female thing to drink, it appears. It tastes very much of strawberries and I am enjoying it.

Last night I watched Jessie Gender talk about the Sexualisation of Transgender Bodies and she is very uplifting and affirming. It did bring one thing home quite forcefully for me though: she talked of feeling 'sexy' and equated that with being at peace with one's body - she skirted perilously close to my own experience with mirrors (she joked that she still saw herself in a mirror, she wasn't a vampire - I used to joke I was a vampire because of how much I avoided mirrors. She avoided mirrors for months, I managed literal years and almost a full decade). She explained the poor choices she had made with two partners and, much like Abigail Thorn of Philosophy Tube, thus let slip that she had had many more than single figures in relationships.

And I thought: I have never in my life felt 'sexy'. That is, desired by someone in that way. Because I haven't been. I also got weirdly... jealous? Envious? Sad? I dunno, the sponsorship on this video had me... inexplicably something:

On my way back from the supermarket with my tortilla, dip, wine and mocktail  I thought about how close I came in 2005-6 to tumbling myself as being trans* - I came incredibly close (it was around then I wrote the Salad Ballad and if that's not a transgender poem, nothing is!) - and how, if I had not met Tilly, I may have actually crossed the threshold in 2007 or 2008. Is this indicative of wasted time? Well, in a sense, yes. But it is also impossible to properly weigh - there are three children in the mix, and my life has gone in a way that would have been utterly incomprehensible to me then. Had I managed to realise about myself it would not have brought any extra romance - I would likely never have even had anything approaching a sex life, if what I had with Tilly counts as a sex life.

Anyway, my toe is healing, which is good, and the blisters are slowly receding. Still haven't broken in my other walking shoes and may have actually broken the feminine trainers I got. Eh, it matters but little, there shall be a delivery of new shoes - another pair of the Chelsea boots in brown and something similar in black - on sale for £5 each. Sign me up!!

The Eyeball Zone?

Okay, maybe the eye make-up is a little
too subtle...

Or, I've done it right.

It was too late to go out dressed to charge. That is, after a nice weekend with the children, I had but 20 miles left on the clock and didn't want to risk coming home after dropping the eldest home. Nevertheless, I did put on my new Snag tights - bought back in May or June I think - the Spice Melange ones - because it was cold. I had worn my old M&S woollen 100 denier ones but... well, I did buy them back in 2005 and they are showing their age. A small hole had opened up somewhat since they were last washed (or perhaps when they were washed, I hadn't checked) and so after wearing them yesterday I may have to bid a farewell to them. I digress. I went out without sorting my hair, just brushed and with an alice band, and then it was off and charging.

On my return I changed into my stuffed bra, but I left my hair as it was, because it felt... well, different. I washed it this morning, you see, and it was doing that train-wreck thing I say I like in the FaceApp photos so I thought I'd see if I could hack it. And off I went to town on an errand, then I stopped by Superdrug. I'd spent much of the day bemoaning in my head that I didn't have £50 to get more tights in for the winter (one way of avoiding heating for a bit longer I guess) and so of course I dropped about a tenner on some eye-shadow, some brushes and some applicators. I mean, of course. I have so much experience with eye shadow (that is, I have none).

Coming back from the pubs(s).

Y'know, the bob-cut function has me
wondering... Also, nail polish...

Toby put eye-shadow on me a few times. Once for her birthday, the first time I ever dressed for longer than a few minutes and also going out with a huge group for about six or seven hours. She did it again with the second night out and maybe three other times for funsies whilst I was round her house. That's it, those are my only experiences.

When I got back (I stopped off for a few halves because I know how to destroy my budget) I decided to try some of my ill-gotten gains whilst waiting for my lateral flow test result. I went light beneath the eyes and then grey on top with some pink at the top of that and tried to blend them all together at the sides. Obviously I added mascara. Then, with negative test sorted, I donned my most feminine of glasses (should I drop money on getting a red pair?) and went out for a walk. Not sure what I was hoping to achieve, to be honest, but I'll be honest and say that I enjoyed going out with my eyes made up. Oh, and wearing a stuffed bra, but I know that no one can see that so it's reasonably safe with my big green coat to hide in. The eyes? They were new and possibly something that people would notice (though the photos suggest maybe not).

The evening falls...

Different bar, same FaceApp but...
no bob-cut. Hmm.

It's funny, when I went out in the summer on my walks in that direction I dared not do much - I wore my shirt and my blue tinted glasses and that was it. I worried about even wearing an alice-band. And now, not six months on, I'm out in eye make-up and obviously feminine frames with a stuffed bra, wearing tights and a camisole. It's... well, it feels like a lot of huge steps whilst also feeling like the most natural thing in the world, almost as though I have taken no steps. And, funnily enough, I really haven't. Like I say, I went out for six or seven hours fully made up in full female attire back in 2005. This isn't progress so much as rediscovery and re-attaining that level that I never fully appreciated back when I did it the first time. How would life have been different had I but realised what was going on?

And that's a recurring theme across many people that I have found that talk about these sorts of journeys - the lost time, the realisation that one has been circling something for so long and wondering what could have been achieved if one had but realised sooner than one did. For me, it has added potency, in that I kinda did know back in 2005 but then I buried it. I kinda knew back in 1996, for goodness' sake, and actively fought against it for the next eight years. It's why I feel wobbly so often, I guess, because I'm finally out of the scaffolding that I erected around the walls I built to try and keep it all in.

Your eyes aren't rivers there to weep, but a place for crows to rest their feet.

Easy Mode

Still one of my favourite images of
myself. I miss those days. A bit.

I used to know who came up with the idea that white, western, middle-class males played the game of life on easy mode, but like with most information that is actually semi-useful in my line of work, I have forgotten it. I went to University and was funded throughout by my rich father and I got a decent degree without ever really appling myself like I should have done. Then, afterwards, got myself a Masters in Military History almost without breaking a sweat and using the loans I took out at very good value (1% interest in a world where 5% interest was standard on savings) to pay the tuition fees. Here I was courted and dated my first girlfriend, Terry, who has never really featured much on here.

Thereafter to a teaching degree, very cheap indeed with a government grant that covered rent and tuition, so I just had to foot the bill for food and entertainment. Living like a social eunuch, a skill I now know that I owe to ASD, this was no great shakes. I was lonely and conflicted, irrationally emotional a bit delicate over the wrong things (a housemate I really fancied and respected once chided me that I dealt with standard issues by crying and playing loud music alone, she was not wrong) but I completed the training and fell into a job by dint of being able to take risks that others would not (it was the Nazi lesson) which, again, I now know to be connected to my ASD and my lack of understanding of what the potential consequences might be socially if not legally. In short, I blasted through by being oblivious where others would be cautious and careful. Still didn't get a decent degree though.

Remember this? I'm on the beer again.

In that new job I applied myself, living only to work and read fictionmania. I branched out to sticky site, back when it was a thing with the Andare brothers, and then, inexplicably, found myself being sought out by Toby. Toby was exciting, edgy, cool and different. Bisexual, into the goth scene and involved with transsexuals, cross-dressers, drug-users and the LARP crowd. Exciting, intoxicating, experienced and three or four years younger than I. She knew stuff I had only dreamed about, literally, and led me through many formative experiences but I played the moral high ground card when it suited me because that's what I do best. It all ended, the only way it could, with her leaving me and me feeling hard done to despite making it all but certain that nothing could ever develop.

With Terry I hadf been the corrupting influence, with Toby I was unable to corrupt but she was also unable to corrupt me, finding that I was already there in many cases. Not in a good way, not in an edifying way. I did not know that I had ASD. I suspected that I was depressed, clinically, but did not pursue that.

Dating website. Holiday in the States. I met Tilly. I was still able to project being interesting and clever. Tilly was looking for security and I provided it. I did not notice that she wanted me to be normal. Because I thought I was normal.

Once my favourite photo of me.
Still the most honest one.

The year I met Tilly. Just six months
prior.

For someone playing the game on easy mode I am a shit gamer. And that holds. I don't play rule systems nor power game nor really play well. I do not learn. I do not improve. In every pursuit I have followed the same line: rapid initial learning, a plateau and then... just plateau. I get no better, I learn no more. The level I almost enter on is the level at which I remain. In Medieval Total War, in Lemmings, in Worms, it was always the same - I would start at a skill level, find that within the game, be matched and then... stick. Get stuck. Stay there until something else came up or I moved on. So it was with relationships. But Terry and Toby were not with me long enough to see that I also degraded. I get worse given time.

Easy mode. But I end up alone, lonely and sad. I end up no longer a Head of Department with minions, but a minion. Same pay, sure, but none of the power and the freedom to be creative. Because I don't actually follow rules, I pat them carefully looking for loopholes, weaknesses, holes and areas that can be exploited or subverted. It's not as useful a skill as it looks. Even my nuance to the white, western, mid- let's call it Default Man status. So, my wrinkle, my cross-dressing, my sprinkling of trans, my gender-queerness (if that is the right term), is subtle and camouflagued enough that no one would ever know. Sometimes even I don't know. I suffer no adversity, my life after University has been pretty easy and welcoming, I experience no sexism, no racism, no classism.

I almost wish I did. I might actually feel a sense of achievement now and again. Instead of failure.

What I left behind.