My work's Christmas lunch had been organised for noon on Friday 17th December 1999. Unfortunately, this was the same day as my last tranny meeting of the millennium - namely the FXG Christmas get-together. As I'd missed the last three FXG meetings, I really wanted to go to this one, even if it meant having to leave my work's do early. However, I'd also recently agreed to meet "C" at some point in the afternoon; "C" is a closet tranny who lives locally, and who wanted to get together to chat about various aspects of the local 'scene'. As "C" was unable to specify a time beforehand, I'd had to leave the whole afternoon free for him – but I considered this a worthwhile sacrifice for one of our 'sisters'. The day would have to be scheduled carefully now ......
As a result of my infamous car accident [1], I'd managed to get blood over my raincoat, so I'd decided to take it into work earlier in the week, and drop it off at the dry-cleaning kiosk. Unfortunately, the weather had since turned cold, and as it's my only long coat, I now reckoned that I'd need it for the weekend. The dry-cleaning kiosk was open from 11.30am until 1.45pm - not much time. But if I forewent my work's do, I could retrieve my coat, and still be ready in time to meet "C". Heck this was getting complicated! I eventually decided to dress beforehand – that would solve all my problems. I opted for a little black dress and a jacket rather than my usual skirt - well, it was Christmas! I chose my most glam wig with soft but full make-up, and left home at 1pm.
My first port of call was the dealer where I'd bought my new car after totalling the old one. A guy named Mark still had my driving licence, which he'd requested to verify the finance agreement. I parked the car on the forecourt, and made my way through the light rain towards the entrance, enjoying the sound of my chunky heels on the concrete. As I walked through the door, two young men sitting at desks raised their heads, and in a split second, they'd looked me up and down - by the expression on their faces, they must have thought that Christmas had come a week early! But, of course, when I spoke, the illusion was shattered, and their lustful expressions were replaced by ones of surprise. They were nevertheless very polite, and one of them showed me into Mark's office. Mark was rather taken by surprise too, I felt – he couldn't find my licence, though I don't think his mind was fully on the task of looking for it ......
From there I made my way to work to get my coat. For maximum effect, I parked outside the main entrance, walked onto the site, and into the restaurant - a distance of about 150 metres. I could feel the silence as dozens of pairs of eyes turned and looked in my direction - it was wonderful! There was no queue at the dry-cleaning kiosk, so I went straight up and presented my ticket. With my coat identified, the lady in the kiosk looked at me and said "I love your hair!" I leaned over the counter, looked around with mock caution, then whispered "Actually, it's not real". "I know that", she replied, "I know you as a man! But I like it anyway". "Well, you can buy one just like it, if you want", I said, gently caressing my curls. She laughed. "No, I'd never carry it off as well as you!" I smiled, and paid the bill.
I was so enjoying the whole experience of being in a place where so many people knew me only in male mode (though sometimes wearing a skirt, of course [2]) that I decided to extend my stay and get some cash at the Post Office next door. Trying to juggle my pass card, a mobile phone, a coat, and a purse while writing a cheque proved to be very difficult - I muttered half to myself and half to the man in front of me in the queue that dresses ought to have pockets. He looked round, peered down the end of his nose at me, tutted, and walked away!
Leaving the restaurant, I returned to my car and drove down to Felixstowe to drop in for a while on my work colleagues' party, which was being held in a function room above a conventional pub. I entered, and walked proudly up to the bar, the sound of my heels of the wooden floor ensuring that everyone had seen me. Again, the place fell silent! Ignoring the gawpers, I asked in my usual male voice how to get upstairs - the lady behind the bar smiled courteously, and gave me appropriate instructions. The party was well-advanced by this time, and I'm sure that half my colleagues didn't even notice me arrive - however, I managed to find some mince pies, a cup of coffee, and a couple of people who were still sober enough to hold a conversation!
It was sometime during the next hour or so that "C" rang me on my mobile to let me know when and where he wanted to meet - we decided on 5pm in the restaurant at Sainsbury's supermarket on the outskirts of Ipswich. I'd arranged to meet up with Rikki (as Ed) at some point in the afternoon, so I rang him to pass on the details, and we eventually got together at 4.30 at the designated place to await "C"'s arrival.
At a little after 5pm, I had an unexpected but very pleasant phone call. It was from Meg, the director of one of the theatre companies I used to play for - she was in desperate need of an audition pianist for that evening. I apologised and said that I already had an appointment, but suggested the names of a few other pianists she could try. However, as I hung up, Ed was smiling at me – and I knew exactly what he was thinking: why not go to the audition? If it was where the company used to rehearse, it would only be five minutes drive from the FXG meeting anyway. I immediately rang Meg back, and asked for some details. The audition was at 8pm for an hour, it was where I'd thought it would be, and no, it didn't matter that I was wearing a little black dress, high heels, make-up and a curly blonde wig – they'd just be grateful if I could come. I winked at Rikki, and promised to be there. Of course, Meg knows about my penchant for all things feminine – Rikki and I had been to see her production of West Side Story in early 1999 [3].
Well, we sat in Sainsbury's restaurant drinking coffee, eating mince pies, and chatting, while keeping an eye open for someone who might be "C". Then, at a little before 5.30 - just as we were thinking about leaving for Mary's where Ed had arranged to change - "C" turned up. He leaned across the table, said "I'm just here to tell you that I won't be here", and walked away. I was lost for words - I couldn't believe what I'd just seen! Ed was equally amazed, as were the people on an adjacent table, whom, some moments earlier, we'd just been telling that trannies were the most unreliable people on the face of the earth! Then, two minutes later, "C" re-appeared, muttered something just as incomprehensible as his first comment had been, and vanished back into the crowd again. Ed and I decided to leave at this point, wondering why we bothered trying to help others at all.
Ed decided to tag along to the audition with me – now as Rikki, of course. So after he'd changed at Mary's, we headed for Tesco's to pick up some wine and mince pies for the FXG meeting. We dropped in on FXG to say a quick "hello", then made our way to the audition hall. Apart from Meg, I knew only two other people there, both of whom I recognised from my time in the company many years ago. There were also about a dozen youngsters, and another dozen hopefuls going for the main performing parts. But such was the degree of acceptance – or nonchalance – that not a single person gave Rikki or me so much as a double take. I remember thinking what a pity it was that my tranny colleagues weren't this open-minded ......
From personal notes.