"I'm on leave next week - does Sally want to go to Norwich?", Georgina had asked me one Friday afternoon. Well, I had to admit, the prospect did appeal to me. However, I had a theatre show to play for that week, and the only day free of commitments was Monday. I'd answered to that effect, and had made arrangements to phone her on Sunday to finalise the details. However, when I got home (late) Friday evening, she'd left a message saying that she couldn't make Monday after all - in fact, she couldn't make any day. I felt like I'd been robbed, and began wondering whether I had the courage to go on my own. I'd been to Norwich twice before with friends, and had 'done' tranny-tolerant Blackpool solo twice, but the prize of Norwich solo was so far unclaimed.
Well, I decided to go for it - I knew I wouldn't be able to live with myself had I backed out. So early Monday morning, I shaved and got made up. I wore a flirty 18-inch black-and-white kilt with a simple black tee-shirt, sheer black stockings, my favourite black strappy shoes with 3-inch heels, and my curly blond wig. Normally I'd wear something rather less provocative than this for public appearances - thicker tights, sensible shoes, and a more natural-looking wig - but I reckoned that if I was going to be read anyway, I may as well make it worthwhile! My biggest concern was the weather - it'd been raining almost continuously all weekend, and the sky still looked very heavy. So did this lady decide to wear some more appropriate footwear? No chance! But I threw my courts into the car just in case. Armed also with an umbrella, a shopping list, my credit card, and plenty of cash, I set off at 10:30.
No sooner had I left home than the skies opened, and it poured all the way to Norwich! However, it stopped as I was parking the car in St. Stephen's, so I chanced leaving my wet-weather contingencies behind - I couldn't carry everything anyway. I left the car park and walked towards my first port of call in Debenham's. My immediate feeling was that an uncomfortably large number of people were looking at me, and I wondered perhaps whether I'd accidentally tucked my skirt into my knickers! However, it was just a touch of nerves, and after a few minutes, I relaxed. I went into Debenham's, to Clinique, and claimed some vouchers on some cosmetics I'd bought a while ago, but which proved not to be up to the job I was asking of them. While I was waiting for the assistant to return, I noticed a middle-aged man looking around the cosmetics stalls - nothing strange in itself, except for what was to happen later ......
I left Debenham's, and proceeded into Gentleman's Walk. I had a quick look at the ear-rings in Top Shop, then headed towards Sock Shop where I always call in to say "hello" to the girls, and to check out any new tights, stockings, and accessories they might have. I didn't buy anything on this occasion, although the Christmas products should be on the shelves by the time I go back in November. Emerging from the shop into Castle Mall, I again noticed the man I'd seen in Debenham's earlier - was he following me? Aware of that possibility, I made my way to Claire's accessories shop in the mall. This shop is a tranny's dream - they sell nail varnish in all colours, ear-rings large and small, feather boas, and all sorts of other good stuff. Belinda, the manageress, used to work at Sock Shop, so having bought a pair of dangly ear-rings and some UV-fluorescent nail varnish, I spent a pleasant few minutes catching up on some gossip. And out the corner of my eye ...... there he was again, looking very out of place amongst the teenage girls. Convinced now that I was being stalked, I left the shop, and headed for the next floor to return a skirt to H&M.
As I emerged onto the second floor, there he was, standing right in front of me. "Can I buy you a coffee?", he asked politely, and started walking alongside me. "No, sorry", I replied. "I know you've been following me, and I don't wish to sound offensive, but I don't do blind dates." "Yes, I apologise for that, but I'd just like to say that I find you an inspiration, and I wish I had your courage", he said quietly. I stopped. "So, you're a tranny?" He nodded. "What's your name?" "Anna". He evidently knew that trannies have femme names - but that's fairly common knowledge, isn't it? "I know Barbara from the Oasis group, and I'm a member of TransEssex, but I've never had the courage to go", he went on. I smiled. "OK, look. I have to return this skirt, but I'll meet you in ten minutes up there". I pointed to a crowded coffee shop on the third floor. He agreed.
Well, it appeared that 'Anna' was genuine - if he wasn't, he'd done a lot of homework to make himself sound convincing. In the event, he gave me his male name and his ex-directory home telephone number, and a request to call him when I was next planning on going to an Oasis meeting. In return, I gave him absolutely nothing - except, of course, my time. It was an interesting half-hour, and you never know what might come of it. I finally left Anna to go about his business, and didn't see him again that day.
Now, I obviously knew that at some point I'd have to use the ladies, and I'd concluded that this last great hurdle would have to be overcome as and when necessary without any forward planning. My recent cup of coffee with Anna had just made it necessary. It so happened that there was a ladies alongside the coffee lounge, so I made my way towards it. Pushing open the door, I was confronted by no less than five people - three women chatting, and two teenagers putting make-up on each other. I kept calm, and went into an empty cubicle. I could hear them all talking outside, although it appeared that no-one was concerned about the presence of a guy in this women-only domain. A couple of minutes later, making sure I was properly dressed, I emerged from the cubicle, eased my way to a sink, and washed my hands. I also needed to re-apply my lipstick, which I did carefully, but without seeming like I was deliberately hanging around. By now, even though no-one had said anything, I was sure that I must have been read, so I quickly returned my lipstick to my bag, checked my hair, and left. I wish I was convinced that it was always going to be that easy.
I went on to the Body Shop to buy an eyelash comb, and to Habitat to buy some light bulbs, and then embarked on a tour of W H Smith's, HMV, and Virgin Records, where I finally found the CD 'A Twist of Jobim', which I wanted to buy with some record tokens I'd received on my 40th birthday last month. By now it was nearly 2pm, so I went into Jarrolds to have some lunch in one of their cafés. To tell the truth, I wasn't very hungry, but I thought I should eat something, so I just had a scone and a cup of coffee - it gave me an opportunity to review my shopping list, and to rest awhile. Never having walked so far or for so long in high heels before, I was starting to get cramp in my calves - I supposed it was the price this girl had to pay for doing what she likes to do most. Maybe if I wore heels a bit more often ......
My next port of call was Beaujangles, which is probably the best place in Norwich to buy ear-rings. But having already bought a pair earlier, I contented myself with just browsing. I left the shop and cut through the market, which is a permanent fixture arranged as a covered grid of about forty stalls. Now, I've never had a sixth sense, but as I walked into the complex, I immediately felt uneasy - although I couldn't put my finger on precisely why. Thinking that I was just being paranoid, I browsed for a couple of minutes, during which time I was increasingly aware of a lot of unusual activity - people scurrying around - and I also overheard several macho comments about queers. As there were ample spaces into which I could have been pushed and attacked, I thought it unwise to overstay my dubious welcome, so I headed for the safety of the main road again. On emerging back into Gentleman's Walk, I saw some half-dozen guys standing around - stall holders - who let off a barrage of queer-bashing abuse and threats. My intuition had served me correctly, it seemed. I ignored it all, and making a mental note to avoid the market in future, headed for Warehouse.
Having regained my composure, I emerged from Warehouse some minutes later, and headed further away from the market towards Boots, where I intended to replenish my supply of Maybelline Express Finish nail varnish. Unfortunately, Boots no longer stock the bright red colour I wanted, so I'll have to make some enquiries about where I can get it. It really does dry hard in 60 seconds - ideal for the girl who's always short of time! However, I found some L'Oreal Jet Set, which is supposed to require only a single coat and to dry even faster (if you believe the adverts), although it's not made in red - it seems like reds are out of fashion nowadays. But my wife's always telling me that it's dreadfully conventional to think that one's toenails should match one's fingernails, or even one's lip colour - and I'd hate to think I was conventional!
Having now succeeded in buying all the important things on my list, I began to take it easy. The sun had just come out, and it seemed a shame to head for home so early, so I decided to browse until my legs gave out altogether. I thought it would be nice to try on some shoes and a skirt or two - things I'd never done en femme before. In my opinion, one of the best shoe shops in Norwich has to be Faith in Castle Mall. As usual, it was full of young girls trying on the latest fashion shoes - black, strappy, and high, with chunky heels. Strikingly similar to what I was already wearing, in fact! I'd not been in the shop more than a couple of minutes when one of the assistants asked me if I needed any help. "Well, actually, I'm looking for something similar to this ......", I said, pointing to my feet, "but a bit more enclosed". It was partly true - had I possessed such a pair, I needn't have been so concerned earlier about whether it was going to rain. Over the next twenty minutes or so, I received her undivided attention, and had a lot of fun trying on various styles. I was heartened to see the number of shoes available off-the-shelf in my size (UK 8) and larger - this certainly wasn't the case even a couple of years ago. However, in the end, I didn't find anything I liked enough to buy - next time, perhaps ......
As I came out of Faith, I noticed one of my favourite clothes shops opposite - Oasis. Now, I really needed a new black microskirt - the only one I had was rather faded. In any case, the latest style has a wide slit up one thigh, and I had to get one! I went in and had a quick browse, but found nothing resembling what I was looking for, so I asked the young girl on the desk, who picked a skirt from one of the rails - well, she called it short. "No, I mean short", I said. "Cut four or five inches off that." She looked at me and frowned. "Seriously?" "Yes. No more than 14 inches long, and preferably shorter still." I hitched up the front of my skirt to demonstrate, revealing an inch of stocking-top. She realised that I was flirting with her, and smiled. "Hang on a minute. I'll see if we've got anything out the back", she said, and disappeared. She returned a couple of minutes later with a size 14 silver microskirt. I normally take size 16, but many of the hipster skirts seem to be quite generous, so I went in to the fitting room to try it on.
It fitted really well, although the cubicle wasn't spacious enough to properly see what it looked like. Then a familiar voice outside asked "How're you doing?" So I pulled back the curtain, stepped outside, and caught sight of my reflection in a full-length mirror at the other end of the fitting room. The skirt was short enough to show my stocking tops, and the thigh slit revealed a black suspender strap. She looked at it, put her hand to her mouth, and squealed "Oh, my god!" I did a flirtatious twirl, separated my legs to open the slit wider, and calmly asked "The stockings set it off nicely, don't you think?" After the initial shock, she admitted that it suited my personality, although it'd be better with a white tee-shirt instead of the black one I was wearing at the time. She also said that I had great legs (where have I heard that before?), and that she was really jealous. But I remember seeing her in a miniskirt and high heels on a previous visit, and I have to say that her legs were fantastic - they're what had drawn me into the shop in the first place! Anyhow, our conversation moved on to the merits of waxing versus shaving for leg-hair removal, and how to apply nail varnish to get it looking good. Eventually, however, I had to take the skirt off, and it was then that I noticed it was marked around the back. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to reduce the price enough, so I apologised, but promised I'd be back another time - and I will. In the meantime, she suggested I try Top Shop.
It was now well over an hour since my encounter with the market traders, and I'd forgotten about it, but evidently they hadn't - as I strode back into Gentleman's Walk, there they were, still standing where I'd left them. Once again they let off a tirade of abuse, so I yelled back at them in my best male voice "Why don't you lot get a life?!" This was evidently what they wanted, as they cheered and partook of male bonding rituals with each other. I smiled to myself at just how pathetic some guys can be! After apologising to a little old lady who'd been unfortunate enough to be standing a few feet from me during my verbal outburst, I made my way up the street and into Top Shop.
And there it was - the perfect microskirt - very short, black, size 14, and with a thigh slit which zipped up for those more modest occasions! I asked if I could try it on for size, and was directed to the fitting room. Now, two years ago, I'd been in this very shop en homme to buy my first black microskirt [1], and had been shown to the men's fitting room, but this time, dressed en femme, I was sent into the women's! But a cubicle is a cubicle, I suppose, so does it really make any difference? In the event, the skirt fitted, and was suitably short - if anything, slightly shorter than the silver one had been - so I bought it. As I came out onto the street again, the town clock struck 5pm - the shops would be shutting soon. "Time to call it a day", I thought, and made my way back past Debenham's where my adventure had begun, and on to St. Stephen's where I'd left the car.
Emerging from the car park a few minutes later, I stopped at the first of many sets of traffic lights, and suddenly recalled my wife saying that we desperately needed some nail varnish remover. Damn! Why hadn't I remembered it earlier? During the course of the day, I'd passed loads of place which sold it! Never mind: a right turn at the next junction would take me into Sainsbury's - I could buy some there. In the event, I picked up a half-dozen things I thought we needed, then almost as an afterthought, decided to have a bun and a cup of coffee in the restaurant before embarking on the journey home.
It was a few minutes before 6pm when I pulled out of Sainsbury's car park - it had just started to rain, and it continued to do so all the way home. In fact, it had been raining most of the day at home, but not a drop had fallen on Norwich while I was there. I remember thinking that maybe there is a God after all, and she'd been looking after me all day. But it was an academic issue - I'd had the time of my life, and I now felt I could go anywhere, and do anything. However, an even more significant opportunity was to drop into my lap a few days later - one which I would have think long and hard about ...... [2]
From personal notes.