Saturday was available in its entirety for each to do as she pleased. I'd decided that this would be a good opportunity to make my début appearance to the Great British Public dressed, so while most of the guests were getting ready to go on an organised outing to a local garden centre scheduled for later in the morning, I donned a less conspicuous wig and a sober outfit, and set off into the crisp morning air on a half-hour walk to the Blackpool Tower and back. Since my 'coming out' eight months earlier, I'd lived this moment a hundred times, but nothing had prepared me for the exhilarating sense of freedom! However, if you're expecting me to say that I wasn't read, then I must disappoint. I'd expected to be, and I was - lots of times. But being read is something which we have to accept as an unavoidable consequence of what we like to do most, and we should treat it as such - I chose to ignore the comments of rude old men, but always acknowledged the giggles of teenage girls with a nod and a wink!
I returned to the hotel just in time to hear the unfortunate news that the outing had had to be cancelled, as the bus we were to use had broken down. Consequently, many decided to spend the day in the hotel, but the change of circumstances persuaded a few more to venture out. I spent a very pleasant couple of hours walking the prom with Jean Pepper (Beaumont Society South-East RO), sharing stories and taking photographs [1]. I got back to the hotel for the second time at around 2pm for lunch, and took the opportunity to browse the stalls selling goods and services which had been set up for our benefit in the lounge. A wide variety of clothes - new, second-hand, fetish and glam - were available for purchase, including some lacy party dresses which were as tempting as they were beautiful. My good friends from HayWay were selling shoes, boots, boas, and an assortment of bondage gear, which they demonstrated by temporarily shackling one of the guests to a chair. In addition, advice was available on wigs and wig care, nails and nail care, and make-up techniques. However, with my mind still reeling from the morning's experiences, I'll admit to being oblivious to most of what was going on, and looking for any excuse to go out again. Then someone mentioned the funfair.
Blackpool's funfair is situated about a mile south of the Seabank Hotel, and features a generous number of roller-coasters, including the famous Pepsi Max, whose vital statistics apparently enable it to lay claim to at least one national record. I personally love roller-coasters, so after quickly collecting my bag and coat, I joined the rest of the gang - a mixed group of six other trannies and 'real' girls - in the foyer. Meanwhile, the weather had turned cold and windy, and it had begun to rain, so we decided to take a tram - much to the surprise of the other passengers! From the tram terminus, it was a further quarter-mile walk to the funfair entrance, during which time the rain turned to sleet, blown along on a bitterly cold wind. Frozen to the bone but undaunted, we went on to ride all the roller-coasters that were operating (holding on to our wigs and hats very carefully!), finishing up in the cafeteria for a welcoming cup of hot coffee.
Sadly, Pepsi Max itself was closed due to high winds - as it had apparently also been during the previous tranny weekend in March - and no matter how much we fluttered our eyelashes at the manager, he wouldn't open it, so we resolved to come back in 1997 and try again. Despite this minor disappointment, a thoroughly enjoyable time was had by all. Of course, seven noisy girls will attract attention wherever they go, even if they are all 'real', and trannies in such a group will be read simply by the sound of their voices. However, I'm happy to report that while we met with smiles, curious glances, and a few dropped jaws, there was no hostility towards us at any time.
From "Costa Blackpool", Beaumont Society Magazine, Vol 5 No 2 June 1997.