Huh!! Chick or Chiken?

Well I blew it big time yesterday.
All the girls at UK Angels were really nice and encouraged me to go to Canal Street in Manchester's gay district.Justine Cairns, Michelle and all the others
couldn't be more helpful, gave me details, suggested where to stay etc.

So I ruished around, bought everything I needed, full make up kit, new outfits- except , no time to buy a wig. But managed to get a day when my partner was away.

Booked a room. Travelled to Manchester. Nice friendly hotel. Went into the bar as previously agreed. Got myself a Becks to settle the nerves.No, not you Becks!! The one that comes in a bottle.(Oh MG! that was you?). Sorry, getting side-tracked here and that pun was a bit bellow the belt.

Anyway, back at the hotel... Julie is losing her bottle ( no pun intended). Can she summon enough courage to just walk a few yards to where the TG group are huddled together? Then the sound of loud harsh Scottish-miner type laughing. You know the type you expect from the Gorbols district of Glasgow. By the way, never order a knuckle of lamb sandwich there. And be very afraid when approaching a Glaswegan TV who wants to give you a Glaswegan kiss.Trust me on this one.

Oh, back at the ranch: I felt as tense as if it was a shoot-out. The barmaid was friendly,OK Carol ? I heard this roaring laugh and I thought " OMG I shouldn't be here.I'm shit scared cos I don't know any of them" and I was out of my depth( Plus I still didn't have a wig). I thought : " These are full blooded guys out for a good booze up. Just the thing I'm trying get away from. No offence girls if you were in that group. You were probably just having a good laugh and being natural. But I'm a timid Tg and needed to meet up with a few quiet girls sipping their glass of wine and chatting sedately. It didn't help that we were all in drab and most of us wre sporting stubble.

So, I had another Becks.Would that help me relax?
Nope. I chatted to the bar maid and decided Julie was not still not ready for coming out, and especially not for going out. I went upstairs to my hotel room and packed my bags. Literally.

Still, hope you had a fantastic time, girls and thanks for all your encouragement. Perhaps that was a dry run ( no pun intended). I apologise if anyone reading this is Scottish and feels offended. I don't mean to that either. So sorry girls. I'm not really a chick but realy chicken and not game.

Maybe I love Julie, but not enough.

Julie- unplugged version

I have been inundated with at least one e-mail recently and I thought I would reply to all of them with a posting.

Then I thought, oh sod it. why should I?

A funny thing happened to me on the way to the railway station two days ago. Well, actually I didn't think it funny. I queued up for a cheap day return ( yeah, that's me - a cheap ride) and discovered I had no money in my wallet. (Not like - " Why- you must be Dr. Wallet, I am Mr Stanley )So I went to a bank cash machine. It was a new machine and so I was a bit suspicious of it but went ahead anyway. I was waiting for my money to come out and nothing happened.

It seemed to be flashing a bit and I couldn't see my card. Eventually I just spotted it, just a very tiny slither could be seen. My brain said " OK. pull the card out." My arm reached for the card ( my right arm, as I'm right-handed, despite being a tranny).The machine said " You are too late mate. I flashed at you for ages and you didn't take your card, so I'm keeping it, so fuck off!"

I wasn't very happy with this machine which had suddenly been given a human embodiment. I resisted my urge to shout and kick the machine. For at least ten seconds.I asked, in a very ironic tone of voice, if it was happy now? I thought of headbutting it , but declined as it was smaller than me. As Julie I just wanted to scream and throw a tantrum and hit it with a handbag. Instead I looked into my brief case and managed to find enough £1 coins to pay for the train ticket.

As I went past the same spiteful machine I gave it a very disdainful stare and sneered at it. If it had not been a machine there would have been an almighty argument, everyone would have stopped whatever they were doing: having silly photos taken in the photobooth; burning their tongues on the paper coffee cups; begging for ten "p" ( cents); running after the train that has just left the station; selling a copy of Big Issue. Instead I had to wait till I got to the office before I could pick a fight with the first person I saw.

I couldn't even unplug the dam bitch.