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!

Tuesday, 19 August 2014


If only this were Tilly and I. She's on the left, obviously.

I've been back a few days now, time to start unpacking. I thought I'd sum up what went on along the following handy triptych of statements:

The Good
Yes, this kind of beach.

But with more people. It was a day with plenty of potential
cloud cover and the threat of rain, so it stayed happily busy
rather than rammed. And didn't rain until just as we were
leaving. So, an almost perfect day at the beach!

The holiday consisted of a trip down to the south coast, visiting Tilly's parents ostensibly, but this was mainly an excuse to go to a beach and see some sights. So we went to a beach, where the children enjoyed themselves immensely. The Boy and I made a huge sandcastle that became an assault course for his dumper truck. Let me explain that, we built some towers using buckets and then he used his truck to destroy them. This was repeated many times and each time we added more to the course (ditches, hills, more towers) and just kept on going. It was great fun for both me and the Boy and we stuck at it for ages before breaking for lunch. After lunch we all went to the sea where the Girlie and I did some swimming in the sea - I haven't done that in years and it was brilliant.

We also visited the coast at a proper little resort town and, despite some awful behaviour from the Girlie, we had fun in the amusements and at an aquarium. Here the children marvelled at sealife, as they are wont to do, and then played in a splash pad like thing in the back and in a sandpit. Because why not. They also spent about three pounds in coppers on the various machines in the arcade and the Boy and I bonded a little more over a racing game.

It's a good book. It's written in the style of stand-up, what
with proper brick jokes, clever turns of phrase, witty
asides and views on what was then everyday...

And written in 1886.
On evenings, we were staying at the parents of one of Tilly's friends, we stayed in bed and read together, which was nice if lacking in any actual contact or conversation, with me having a beer and making notes whilst reading either Three Men in a Boat or Hereward and she reading her Kindle and making some of her own notes. Companionable, if silent and a little cold. Sometimes the children went to sleep quickly and sometimes they did not. We did, however, manage some time together (with hand holding) in bookshops and even, on the first afternoon, in the village in which Tilly grew up. This was very welcome and very nice indeed. I liked hearing about Tilly's tales and said as much to her - how sometimes I knew she'd told me already but I liked to hear her telling the story and so asked her again. I think that went down well, but mainly it was the truth. I said it because I meant it.

The Bad:
This was the game we played. Trivial Pursuit. I like this
game, we played it a lot in my family. Possibly with the
same questions as we had on the night (from the 1980s).

It also accurately sums up my tribulations regarding our
marriage I suppose.
That whole thing of sitting together and reading without any conversation or contact. It... well, it hurt a bit. And has continued since we've come home. There's been some hand-holding in bed but on the last night of our trip Tilly got rather drunk, in good company whilst playing a board game (it was a good night) and so has spent the two days since complaining of a hangover. This has meant no real discussion beyond day-to-day things, no touching and much moping by her. It meant that I packed the car for the trip home (and the bags) and looked after the increasingly fractous children in the car, and at stops, and once we reached home. Yesterday was mainly me taking the lead in looking after the children from the moment they got up to the moment they fell asleep. After that, we sat on the sofa together and she read in silence with me forbidden from reading anything out to her (what we usually do with books) or distracting her at all. She put her feet on my legs, which was nice enough, and then held my hand in bed but... still. Most of the day was, as I say, me as primary childcare.

On the holiday most of the time was looking after children. I took morning duties, as usual when at home, and Tilly surfaced when she was ready and not before. During the day I was primary for the Boy and generally stepped in with the Girlie if Tilly got frustrated, which was a given I guess. There were some stormy moments that I weathered. Overall, this part is a small 'bad'.

The Ugly:
From the site as it happens.
I remain melancholy about the lack of ability or time to dress. I have a wardrobe, I have some really nice things, and a suggestion about what to do with them to fulfill, but no time to myself in which to do it. On the evening we returned I sat online and sought out some soft pornography (www.sissykiss.com if you're wondering) and masturbated for the first time in a week. I'm still on the Experience Project and now it's coming up to seven months. I rather suspect that, despite the efforts being made, it will be much longer than that. And, as for the dressing, I don't know. I'll need to get up very early indeed to make that work at all, or find a better way of storing clothes (currently in a cardboard box beneath a box of letters at the bottom of the wardrobe in the spare room and packed tightly too, so finding articles can take a while and be quite the space filler) so that I can be quicker. But I don't know how to do that without also making my indulgence more obvious than I think Tilly can handle. A discussion on other matters (my mother) raised, again, the fact that Tilly severely dislikes (her words) a very small aspect (again, her words) of who I am.

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