I was nearly a gonner last Sunday week. I was travelling down to see friends in London, following this huge grey-black cloud from Hemel hempstead all the way. I was thinking- wow! just like the bright star showing the three wise men to Bethlehem. Except there was only one of me, it wasn't Bethlehem and I knew where I wanted to go anyway.

OK. I'm not wise either.

Anyway, just before the Dartford Bridge, as I was trying to get my change out for the toll fee and avoid being hit by others (trying to race for the entrances - such a macho stupid thing to do). Sorry . Have to stop for breath here, its such a long unwieldly sentence don't you think?

Where was I ? Oh yeah , Dartford Bridge, suddenly this thing came hurtling towards my car. It must have been a large stone. I thought "Oh My God my windscreen will be smashed, I 'll probably crash and am I wearing knickers or boy's pants, just in case I have to go to hospital?" You know, as you do in slow motion when you think about life in general and start knitting a pink top for your newly born niece and notice the cloud formation on that particular day.

The stone/thing hit my car on the bonnet and I saw two pairs of boys very high up on the footbridge. The huge boulder coming out of the blue made a nasty large dent on the bonnet. Luckily I was driving my partner's car.

Just after that incident some boy racer in a red sporty car (red-so predictable) overtook me from the inside lane. The trouble was I was also on the inside lane and it came so close, any closer and it would have needed new paintwork.

It didn't help that the radio kept on suddenly switching itself on unannounced
so every now and again I would hear a loud voice inside my car which spooked me out.

I am normally a well -balance T girl - if that isn't a contradiction in terms. But my nerves were a jangle of BT wires and anything then would have set me off like an explosion at a petrol depot. Just then my mobile rang...

A two hour journey had taken four hours because of the closure of the M1 and the local traffic problems caused by the explosion. I was in a very stressed state but managed to be phiosphical.

That was the fourth time someone had thrown a brick/stone at me whilst driving. On the first occaision the car crashed but all the injuries were minor scraches and small cuts from the glass.The last three times the windscreen remained intact and there were no injuries. Perhaps, just as the grey-black cloud was guiding/ following me, Someone Else was looking after me?

Tranny thoughts on table soccer

I thought it would be great to hold a table soccer tournament for friends and family.
We had a great time but real girls are really rubbish at it, not like Monica in Friends.
First, there was a really girly stance and a gentle hold of the handles with lots of giggling and "Oh I'm so rubbish" talk. Then the girls hardly made contact with the ball so it was slowly rolling from side to side.
Then the boys moved in: hard concentrated look on their faces, very firm flick of the wrists ( I know!) stooping over the table and the balls were flashing everywhere ( I know).
There was only one purpose- Win at all costs. The girls enjoyed as a laugh and the blokes enjoyed it if it was a hard close match.
So where did I fit in? I was dressed in drab (i.e. boy-mode) and I wanted to win, but not at all costs. It musn't be by naked power ( Oh do stop reading unintended inuendos Pllllease).
It had to be done by playing gracefully and without too much aggression.
Ah!! play defensively!
And you know what it worked! I managed to hit the balls ( do stop it!!) with a kind of a graceful swipe and the blokes hit the ball with such power that it often bounced straight back at them.
And I enjoyed playing. Ok I didn't win the tournament but at the end of the evening when I wanted more action ( yes, we all do) most of the blokes were complaining of bad wrists and tennis elbow. Hee -hee.
Now wouldn't it have been fun to have beaten them when I was dressed as a girl?
Mmm- next tournament- must be in fancy dress ( I love fancy dresses).
Anyway, happy trannying
Julie
xx

Hi, I'm a dyslexic granny

This is my very first blog.And this is the very first time you have visited me.
Take up a chair and listen to our story. By our story I mean the time when trannies will walk proud without fear of ridicule.

First of all we need a political party. I love parties.
We should call it the Planet of the Cakes. This will
a) Fool everyone into thinking we will let them all eat cakes. This will go down particularly well in France

b) Attract all those film buffs and Sun writers and readers who love a pun.


Of course, we will need a party clour- red, blue and orange are already used.So we shall use a colour such as Fuschia because
a) Not many people really know what colour its supposed to look like
so they everyone will talk about it and get our name spread.

b) Its a pretty colour and will go well with most smart skirt suits, especially fuscia.

We will make an election pact with the Liberal Party and the Greens who will be bowled over by being able to wear fuscia.

On our election platform we will have top supermodels ( no not her-she wouldn't get a sniff) in Kinkyboots. We will promise free lager and live footie programs with free digital TVs (no pun intended) for the blokes.

For the ladies we will have free boob implants on the NHS and extend Coronation Street and East Enders to be shown twice daily.

Of course we will have to balance the economy. This can be done by selling the Isle of Man to the highest bidder.

If any of you wish to provide policies for the Planet of the Cakes please let me know and we can arrange a shadow closet.