Words of warning and welcome:

This is very much my blog, so don't be surprised if this doesn't follow accepted patterns and norms. Obviously it started out as a blog about my cross-dressing but it has developed a great deal since then. It is a place where I can be anonymous and honest, and I appreciate that.

It will deal with many things and new readers would do well to check out the New Readers' Page above this and the tag down there on the right. Although there's nothing too bad in here there will be adult language, so be careful. If you think this needs a greater control, please let me know. Thank you!

Thursday, 21 August 2014


Ah, that would be kinda nice actually.

In other news, Tilly bought one of those 'pens for women'
from Bic. She almost bought me one. I almost wanted her to.
Today was the second part in finding out whether or not my new work life could continue in the generally positive vein that I have been used to so far. Of course, without even looking, I could have told you how this was going to go. I got up late, skipped breakfast and was there, in the right place, with results handed to me by people who already knew well ahead of the students. The results were not good. I did some number crunching and I can now explain it (luckily for me I saved the parts I could) as being down to student irregularities. But, you know, that sounds lame even to me - I'm a newbie to the job, and I'm essentially blaming it on the last person in the job. Lame. Even if true, lame. So, next year my ultimate boss (who still has the mindset of being in my job) will doubtless play a more 'active' role in affair, which will translate as well-meaning but irritating sticking-of-neb-in-business.

This book cover is laughing at us.
Speaking of which, my mother. She came to visit after a phonecall in which she revealed that the reason for sour grapes the last time she was here was because she "didn't feel like she was the most important peron there." No, that's an actual quote and I have no idea what to do with that. I'd have expected it from my grandmother but from my mother? I guess that's how my family goes. How soon until I do the same? The visit wasn't so bad but it wasn't about us or the children, ostensibly what my mother is interested in, it was an exercise in my mother living out the fantasy she has in her head about how such visits should go and blow the actual needs of the situation.

Did I mention I'm feeling fat? I had to buy new shorts and trousers to accommodate my increasing girth. I still look eight weeks' pregnant. I shouldn't complain, a good shaving job and the right clothes and wig and that would really fit in nicely to my chosen methods of self-expression. Provided that I could find the private time to actually go and dress in the spare room without the chance of being disturbed. Oh, wait, I woke up late and was unable to even try this morning when I had the perfect reason to be up early and the added bonus of the children being used to getting up later than they do during work-time. Basically, I'm not feeling too hot at the moment. Even the number-crunching epic of the afternoon in which I have almost completely analysed all results in more depth than the school do (and they do a bang-up job, by the way) isn't enough to fully dislodge the funk. The beer I've had tonight, Duvel's Speciaalbier, has helped, but I'm still a little down.

The original plan for this post was to go into more depth about my mother and my childhood but, you know, I'm not sure it's entirely relevant right now. Expect a book review or two shortly, it'll be a nice space filler until I can get back into the groove of writing relevant posts. In other news, Tilly and I are attempting to watch a DVD together tomorrow night - since when did a DVD night become something we planned a week or so in advance and become so important that it actually took the place of genuine physical interaction? Oh, that's right, some time between nearly losing my previous job and moving house. In fairness, we did hold hands in bed last night, a 'night off' for Tilly (most nights are her working on her novel or interacting with her writing buddy) but she was feeling ill from being that time of the month again so anything more than that was expressly off limits.

I realise that there are some who think we're rebuilding our relationship but, honestly, this is taking longer than some of my very few actual relationships and I'm getting less far than I did in my laughably innocent first relationship. In more time. With someone I'm married to. Fuck's sake.

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