I'd decided many weeks ago that Friday 5th December was to be the day I went to Norwich dressed for the first time. The arrangement had been that Mary would pick me up at 2:30pm from my home, and I could do my Christmas shopping before we both went on to the Lord Raglan to relax, and then to the usual first-Friday-of-the-month Oasis meeting. Despite the temperature, I'd chosen to wear a long-sleeved tee-shirt with a black mini-skirt and black semi-opaque tights, covered by a raincoat - a bit more trendy than the usual knee-length outfit I'd traditionally worn for such public appearances. Having spent three hours solo shopping in Blackpool less than a week before, I was feeling very confident; I also know Norwich very well, having been there many times before. Nevertheless, Mary's moral support on this particular afternoon had been much appreciated.
We'd arrived in Norwich at around 3:30, and Mary had left the car in the car park under the Castle Mall shopping centre. We'd gone first into Jarrolds, where I'd managed to buy almost everything on my list - "PCs for Dummies" for my mother, a pair of leather gloves for my father, and a small bottle of CK-1 for myself. We'd also had a bite to eat and a mug of coffee, as it was to be a long while before supper at Oasis. Then it was on to the Body Shop to buy an eye-liner pencil. I'd also taken the opportunity to say 'hello' to the ladies in the Sock Shop, and to the young woman in Debenhams who waxes my legs. 'He' is a well-known customer in both these establishments, and I'd promised on my previous visit to drop in and see them this time around.
It was now 6:35, and virtually all the shops had closed. We'd spent the last 45 minutes in an Italian restaurant sipping wine to kill some time before the Lord Raglan opened, and were reflecting on a very pleasant and successful afternoon. Then Mary suddenly asked me if I'd noticed what time the Castle Mall car park closed. "No idea. It's Christmas - surely it won't be this early. Will it??" With thoughts of being stranded en femme in Norwich for the night racing through our minds, we quickly bade farewell to our host, and made for Castle Mall. We got to the entrance, and were horrified to find it already locked. A group of youths were standing there, obviously also wondering how to rescue their car. We asked them if there was another entrance to the mall, but they didn't know. "I thought the car park was open 'til eight", said one, "so there must be another way in somewhere." And with that they disappeared. We took a note of an emergency telephone number on a board inside the locked door, and set out to find a telephone. This was, after all, an emergency!
The first place we saw, about 100 metres away, was the Bell Hotel. Obviously the hotel part was upstairs, because downstairs was a bar, full of couples and groups in their twenties and thirties. As we walked in, all eyes turned towards us. It evidently wasn't your average tranny-friendly establishment! I made for the bar and boldly asked if they had a telephone we could use. Mary, sporting a walking stick to offset the effects of sciatica, followed a few metres behind. There was a short queue for the 'phone, and we chatted and laughed about our predicament with the bar girls as we waited. Once on the 'phone, I was told that there was another entrance to the mall which would still be open, although the directions were less than explicit, as the man at the other end didn't know exactly where we were calling from. But he did say that the car park itself closed at 7:15 - and it was now 7 o'clock. I put the phone down, looked skywards, and said aloud: "God, I can't believe I'm doing this!" I turned to the young girl behind us in the queue, who had burst out laughing at this remark, and asked if she knew where the telephone man had said we should go. "See that road there?" She pointed. "That's Castle Meadow - the entrance you want is on the right." "Thanks!", I said, and with her good-luck wish ringing in our ears, we left the building, still watched closely by a large number of people.
"That made their day", grinned Mary, as we made our way in the direction the young girl had indicated. "You should've heard the comments as you were walking to the bar! Things like: 'What the fuck's that just come in?'" We laughed heartily. By now, I didn't really care what happened - I felt I could face anything. We soon found the entrance where we were told it would be, and it was still open! I have to admit some relief, but I felt a little sad at the thought that this adventure was finally drawing to a close. We walked through the deserted shopping centre, found the car park, paid the machine to validate our ticket, and headed for the car. It wasn't hard to find - it was the only one left in the entire place! We left the complex with seven minutes to spare.
From a letter and personal notes.