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!

Monday, 30 March 2015

If we sleep together...

It is rather lovely though.
The last few days have been a tad confusing. I was out shopping and I saw this dress in yellow and I did think about owning it. I did not dress on the second evening that Tilly was taking the Girlie out to her show without the Boy and I watching and I missed that experience, which may explain why I snapped that accompanying photograph over there to remember the dress. I have also been reading the thoughts of others and have no idea how to respond. I have said before that I have no real desire to be a woman, I rather like my privilege and recognise it, and I would be a very poor woman in all senses of the word. Not to say I wouldn't embrace the opportunity to try it on for a while but, equally, I could never live it (any more than I live being a male either come to think of it). In short, I'm confused over more than gender so I'm privileged in that regard too.

But spending time with my wardrobe at my feet and doing nothing was interesting. Not least because I had a beer and then Tilly came home. She mentioned that it had been a while, which is odd, and then we commenced our evening once the children were asleep. We saw the change from 1am to 2am as part of BST - we're later than the USA - and I ruminated on the fact that I had not planned it and had assumed that there would be no action, thus making it harder for me to complete. More to the point, it was Tilly who raised how long it had been and not me. I'm not complaining. Just commenting on it.

We start a holiday tomorrow for the first time since the Boy was very small. The last holiday was cut short by a vomiting bug that I picked up, but only after it refused to budge in two days, and Tilly and I slept in separate rooms. It was very much a mark of the nadir we had reached that we did that and Tilly was happier with it. Since then, we have stayed in hotels to visit people, sharing a bed but not actually space, and we have maintained very separate habits - the last time I spent most of the evening in the bar reading a new book and playing games on one of the devices we took with us. Tilly spent it sleeping. In fairness, the bar was her suggestion.

We shall see, I suppose, we shall see.

Friday, 27 March 2015

Castles in the Sky

So, like, wow, I can't, even, like, go there!

This just feels... well, like me.
Look at those sleeves!
Tell me why / do we build castles in the sky / I don't know why

There is a castle in the clouds / I like to go there in my sleep

It's been a bonkers few days. Today was the last day of term and we had a trip out - you know how I feel about running trips - and that actually went very well. All the staff were agreed that it was a pleasant day and the students seemed to get a great deal from it in terms of notes for their coursework and also just from being out and about. Maybe a bit long, could have done with a greater pace, but the concept worked well and I look forward to a repeat of it on one level, even if it was coffee that got me through it - caffeine and I are a poor combination.

In that, I get all hyped up and energetic and bombastic and then, afterwards, get this massive come-down headache. I am going to have to partake of a beer tonight for that reason alone. Something girly methinks. If there's such a thing.

There you go, my entire femme wardrobe fits in a single
cardboard box. Well, and a hanger in the actual wardrobe.
I did not dress on Tuesday, you may have noticed, and instead took an early night. I stacked a post here rambling about songs and stuff and then just went to bed. Sorry about that. I didn't dress last night because Tilly and I decided to watch three episodes of Game of Thrones together - finally catching up with everyone else was about a year ago, but meh, it wasn't a bad way to spend an evening. Tonight, Tilly and the Girlie are out as the Girlie is doing another dance show. The Boy and I will be watching the final performance on Sunday and tonight is the first performance. This means that, now that the Boy is abed, there is opportunity to dress. I thought I would do things a little differently and brought my entire wardrobe downstairs for a change. Looking at it is a mixture of conflicting feelings. However, chiefly, I must remark on how small it has become over the years. Of course, there's still a great deal of choice that usually renders me incapable of wearing just one outfit of an evening but we'll see where I end up with that.

Yeah, like this!

Question is: am I the one with the knife or the one hiding
behind the water cooler?

Is there someone behind that cooler?
I have also noticed that my propensity for subterfuge and lying has surfaced again at work. I think I have balanced things well enough not to arouse suspicion or lose any allies but these acts are getting harder and harder to maintain. Worse, one of my managers has congratulated me on being "honest and straight talking" in my dealings with people, meaning that I tend to get leeway that most people do not get in things like trips, administration and such. This is nothing terrible or likely to lose me my job but it is a little odd being seen positively whilst not being entirely honest myself. A stark contrast to my days in my previous job. Also, I am apparently embroiled in politics as "honest broker" and seen by all sides as someone who is on their side. Either they are all terribly naive about politics or I am. Hmm.

Playing with my unnatural hair.
In dressing tonight (my fave photo of the evening is the title photo) I found that the wig has an extra setting where it gets more firmly tethered to my head! That means that I can be a bit rougher with the hair and try to keep it out of my face. It's an oddly nice feeling, I think I like hair that falls past my ears, it's just getting to that point that has proved so insurmountably irritating in the past. I probably don't have long like this though, I suspect the show will be over in an hour. Feels nice though. I've stuffed a bra under all of this and it was a heck of an effort zipping up the dress, really presses my chest. I like that. Of course I do, I'm not a real female who would be hurt by that. Also, apparently the Boy is still abroad. Hmm. Time to finish for the evening methinks. Enjoyable but short lived.

That could easily be a sub-heading to any entry on here about my cross-dressing escapades come to think of it. One of the most pleasing things about this, however, is the fact that I am able to wear my boots again without pain! Yay!

I can never get a decent picture of this!
More photos follow the line-break.

Tuesday, 24 March 2015

Musical Odyssey

In the spirit of this place I submit to you some music videos.

Have you ever wondered what My Humps would sound like as a melancholic reflection on the futility of using one's body to gain what you want in life? Did you ever wish it were still the 1990s and that indie artists who had played God in Dogma had sung the song? Then Alanis Morissette's version is just for you!

Then there is what turned up down that rabbit hole. First up is this lovely song called Kitchen Sink by Twenty | One | Pilots that os by turns haunting and emotional. I rather like this sort of electro synth that puts me in mind of the Pet Shop Boys and Needing/Forgetting by OkGo. It is rather well put together and the change in chords at the end had me sitting up and paying attention.

On that note, there is a new album by Blur due out. I rather like the direction that they've taken since Albarn's (sp) sojourn into opera but Tilly is less certain. I think this is a good track to introduce the sociological theory of Neo-Malthusianism (which, increasingly, I think is just dandy - but with a healthy does of Neo-Marxist critique to create what I actually subscribe to) but that may just be me. Yeah, it's likely just me.

After that, we're back with Twenty | One | Pilots for a cover version of the rather lovely Christina Perri Jar of Hearts which I played a lot over the summer. This is really, really reminiscent of the Pet Shop Boys in Shopping or Home and I suspect that is a good thing. Also, gender switching the lyrics with the singer (think Rent if you like) is another staple of my musical taste so it should come as no surprise that I like this one.

Monday, 23 March 2015


Not me, nor any of my colleagues. I wouldn't mind
if I could pull this look off mind.
Since Valentines-ish things have been slow on here, I know. And there's a number of reasons for that. Firstly, my new job seems to have me at my busiest and most stressed around this time of year (though the amount of stress is significantly lower than the day-to-day stress at my old place). Secondly, I seem to have a larger group of friends and colleagues offline than I used to have, case in point was the fact that Saturday afternoon and evening was spent walking around a local town on a barcrawl with them and sampling the delights of local ales. This was a most pleasant way to spend a day and night. The Girlie is also deep into practice for her dance show and there are dress rehearsals on Sundays, meaning that Tilly and I have become ships that pass in the night again. She's off to see a play in London tomorrow evening, it has Greg Wise in it, and so I'm hoping to get the children to bed and maybe have an evening's indulgence. I shall try to get some pictures.

Since my last related news in the TMI section there has been nothing of that sort. Both children have had chickenpox and Tilly has entered another illness tunnel: cold, sore throat, sickness feelings, period, cold, cough and now migraines. We still embrace in bed and share some intimate moments but that is all. As usual, I'm waiting, not that I'm bitter.

LOL - Nope.
Huh, see, this is why I've not been posting. It would appear as though I have little new to say even when things are going well, generally, and certainly better than they were a year ago. So far, at any rate, we'll see if this continues. We're looking forward to our first family holiday since the summer of 2010 this Easter, a few days in London, and that's got to be a positive step in the right direction. One thing I know for sure is that I won't be carting cots and paraphernalia backwards and forwards for most of the holiday for a change - we're taking only what we can carry in rucksacks between us - and that should make it the kind of holiday that I can actually be involved in for a change. Not sure I'll get my hope for something intimate on a holiday, but a man can dream in the meantime.

Right now, that's all I have. Hope you are well, fair reader, and that you're not too stressed out.

Tuesday, 17 March 2015

Watching Films part 2

This is another look at the strange aspects of watching these films with my children. After my last post I was determined to hold off and use the machete order to my advantage, that my children's experience would be the best possible introduction to the series, and that I would simply rewatch A New Hope and Empire Strikes Back until the VHS for Episode II arrived and we would watch that - giving me time to sort out the fact that I didn't want to spend £15 on a VHS copy of Episode III and that it was a 12, with Episode II a PG, whilst the original trilogy are all U rated.

It was not to be, of course, as the Boy had already seen the third video in the box and had decided on his own plans. The night we were due to go back to reading stories rather than watching films he decided to up the ante by putting the VHS in himself and being very excited. It was his face that did it. How could I possibly refuse his earnest visage when he looked up at me and asked to watch the next video? So, I have failed, no machete order, we have watched Return of the Jedi, easily my favourite film of the lot, and it was two nights later that Attack of the Clones arrived.

Would you like to know more?

Monday, 16 March 2015

Favourite photos

You've seen this before.

I still like the photo and what it represents. I am
growing more blase about it being in the public
domain. Is that good? It is only a matter of time,
I suppose, until it is discovered. Then I shall
know whether cross-dressing is enough to finish
a teaching career as I suspect it is.
Well, it appears as though an e-mail to Stana has borne fruit and that my favourite photograph of me, well, the one that includes a face, is up on her site today. That was interesting! Also, it seems to have spawned a conversation about whether or not cross-dressing with a beard in public is a good idea and how far one cross-dresser (or member of any community) bears responsibility for how the whole community is seen by others. This is, I feel, a very important conversation to be had and one that has implications for us all, regardless of whether or not we are cross-dressers, trans* people, Christian, atheist, Muslim or any other label from a whole host of minorities, cultures, creeds and genders. I feel privileged to have been the spark for some search comments from two people so far, and hope that the conversation spurs others to think deeply on it, no matter what view they end up with nor how they view my contribution.

As a teacher, I often feel that my cross-dressing and my thoughts on sexuality are dangerous simply by existing. My vocation, my job, my calling, does not really allow for too many deviations from the norm and lies precariously between allowing individualism to exist and the raw edge of conformity. That I wear a suit to work is part of that. My antipathy toward suits as a mode of dress and my understanding of them as the uniform of the armies of conformity and oppression of thought is tempered by the soft seduction that the power of wearing a suit imparts. I wear it both as a pastiche and as a form of armour that protects me from others and prevents others from seeing who I am. I can don it around the campus and be the strict disciplinarian but, remove it, and I am the approachable classroom teacher who can be trusted. That soft seduction of the dark side, to use the modes and symbolism that the suit offers in society to my advantage is as much a part of Default Man as anything else. I have not forgotten that.

I wouldn't mind donning armour like
this, nor the hair and the skirt.
As much as I rail against education running the way it does I do so from inside the beast. I can challenge, but only in acceptable ways. I can point out to students what is happening and what is being done to them and in their name but, at the end of the day, I am as guilty as anyone else in the system of manipulating them, their emotions and their trust toward grades, protection and conformity of my own kind. My suit, my representation of myself, is as much a part of that as anything else. To let students see inside, to hint at my cross-dressing, is something that would probably result in sacking or censure. Much of who I am lies beneath layers of disguise. And that can be seen as a sad indictment of society or else an exciting double life like some kind of superhero. I suspect that the secret identity part of superheroes is as much about that subtle social conditioning to create a conformist outward appearance as anything else. My own complicity, whilst being fully aware of it, I find fascinating.

In family news the pox and confusion meant that I failed to organise Mothering Sunday for the children. Tilly thus went the day without cards or trips, something she found deeply upsetting looking at the activities of others on Facebook. Having been there myself I can relate and empathise. It's horrible. And it was my doing that she felt so badly about it. She has not blamed me, which makes it worse, but I know how that feels and I feel remorse. I can feel us slipping back apart.

What would life be if we were all open all of the time? I doubt it would be better, but it would be different. What would life be if my cross-dressing were open? Would I still wear a beard or would that be subject to a new set of social rules of acceptability? Is my wearing of a beard only possible because I am private - the beard acting as a foil to prevent me going public - in that I have convinced myself that I want facial hair because I am lazy and have never liked shaving? I know that my facial hair is as much a part of the persona I use in teaching as my suit and my joke reel (it's all about elephants) or how I stand. I know that the beard was a conscious decision about my teaching armour and not connected with what I wanted or how I see myself, it is part of the disguise I wear. So, would I abandon that if I were public with my cross-dressing or is it a disguise for another part of myself that my private cross-dressing is complicit in maintaining? The fact that this remains a thought experiment allows me to ask the question in the first place and accept any answers.

Friday, 13 March 2015

Filthy Hope

Yes, this was very much on my mind this morning.

I woke up this morning having spent the night sleeping in the bottom bunk of the Boy's bed with the Boy cuddled beside me with a waking dream about choosing this Red Nose Day to wear 'fancy dress' to school. I would don my lovely lavender dress with my purple collar above a high-collared white blouse with sleeves that would fall down over my hands. On top of those sleeves I would wear my white watch with the pink face. Beneath the skirt I would wear a petticoat and my purple tights along with my boots. It was a nice dream. I won't deny that it was the sort of dream that sent my blood racing or that had me wishing that I could lie in bed longer but, at the same time, there was a note of longing.

Can you imagine how much prettier this would
be with the tights, a petticoat, the collar, a
watch and a long sleeved blouse?
Terri has blogged about the power of dreams and the desire to know what they mean whilst, at the same time, realising that dreams such as these are pretty easy to understand and to interpret as they are so straight-forward. This was a straight-forward dream. At the turn of the year I had had another such dream where I simply woke up as a woman. I was less awake though and so it took on a more involved aspect and less blood pumping around - I woke up and noticed that the place I was in was very different. Everything felt strange, smells were stronger and totally unfamiliar, I felt out of place but also infinitely more at home and comfortable in my own skin. Of course I was a female and I learned that I was in a different area of the country and looked very different from what I would have expected. It put me in mind of the Great Shift style of stories. It lingered and I toyed with the idea of turning it into a story with a bit of a difference. I have been reading TG stories on Deviant Art and on fictionmania and it strikes me how few of them deal with the existential aspects of sudden changes to gender and place and time. Most of the characters seem to jump straight to the feel of clothes on skin or the obvious places that sudden;y provide enhanced sexual feedback (of course). It was this aspect of unrealism, as opposed to the actual situation itself, that usually had me cease the suspension of disbelief. I find that an odd thing to focus on, but there it is.

I was in the Boy's bed because the pox has finally spread to my Girlie and she doesn't do being ill in the same way. She takes after her mother and gets angry with everyone else in the room about how bad she feels. Misery loves company and the Girlie knows how to share that effectively. She hasn't slept properly now for three nights and Tilly has gone through tiredness to grumpiness to anger to resignation and a need to be alone. I don't blame her for that. Meanwhile, I have been having some early nights after a big week and a couple of days where I simply haven't stopped but no corresponding early mornings. This has meant I still haven't had a chance to dress in the mornings, explaining my dream this morning.

Have you found Adult Wednesday Addams? You should.

And that will do for an update!

Monday, 9 March 2015

Watching Films...

Being a geek and a sci-fi nerd, I always expected to share Star Wars with my children. I had, however, assumed that I would do so quite late on, as it was done with me, and that I would have plenty of time to get in the DVDs that I want, make sure Han shoots first, that kind of thing. Imagine my surprise when the Boy decided that he wanted to watch some Lego Star Wars things on youtube. This rapidly progressed to reading some of the books. Given that he is no fan of films with people in them or live action I figured it was good, but still a way off the actual films. Then he decided to get a Lego New Hope and Empire Strikes Back pack with two story books.

Suffice to say, he wanted to see these stories in video. I found some of the Lego stuff but it relied a lot on already knowing the story. I showed him the trailer of A New Hope from 1977 and he wanted to see more. I have no DVDs, I haven't bought the first trilogy yet either - I always reasoned I would buy the whole lot but then kept putting it off. I dug out my old VHS boxset from 1997ish and the old combi TV-VHS that Tilly had lurking in the spare room, plugged it all together and we've watched the first two films. What follows are my thoughts.

I do rather love this look. Actually,
Rachel Weisz may have learned from
this pose.
The Boy is not a fan of live action - he dislikes people talking - and so I was not expecting to be able to watch much of it. I've had the VHS versions (special edition) of the original trilogy knocking about since they were re-released back in 1997 and I thought I was being clever (by buying the non-widescreen editions so that I could watch them on my own TV that was tiny). I remember that I loved Return of the Jedi the most but appreciated the first two as well. And no, it wasn't the slave scene. I discovered that scene as a pubescent boy, certainly, and imagined myself as Leia (obviously) but I originally loved the scenes on Endor - where Leia caught my imagination because she was a soldier and female and totally in charge of her agency. Make of that what you will. I'd love to suggest that this means that I am a proper feminist, but I suspect it doesn't mean anything so powerful. I had posters, for free from a shop as they were promo-posters rather than proper ones, and when I went to University it was seeing the sci-fi society playing the Battle of Hoth on a battered TV that made me join them. So, yes, I had assumed that he would watch a short amount, declare it boring and walk away.

This is the best I can find of the scene that was originally
burned into my mind and connected with the Star Wars
We sat in the bottom bunk of his bed, a place we still plan to convert to a den at some point, and were joined by his elder sister. I couldn't find the old TV controls and so we had to watch through the 'making of' special. I remember watching this at home, alone, on our bigger TV sometime after some exams, it may have been A Levels, and being captivated. Before that point I had seen all of the films but we had Empire Strikes Back taped from ITV one Christmas (maybe 1987) and a really poor copy of Return of the Jedi with bits missing badly recorded from BBC1. A New Hope was completely missing from our film collection, though we had owned it on V2000 (a fore-runner to VHS) taped from ITV again (around 1985). My family were not terribly into sci-fi. So, we sat and we watched the first 'making of' together. The Boy was restless but weathered it and even seemed enthused about the film, the Girlie was barely able to contain her excitement.

This is the battle of Hoth.

It is cool.
We watched the film proper, I was amazed at the lack of trailers (it has been a long long time since I watched my own copies, possibly since 1999) and I read out the opening text. Of course, as I watched, I regretted my decision to not buy widescreen all that time ago, the text was only properly legible halfway up the screen as a consequence and many of the opening shots lacked the power they held at the cinema. However, when compared to the quality that I grew up with, these were far superior. I also noticed something else. Watching these on VHS, with tracking and poorer quality sound on an old combi TV, both my children were more engrossed in the film. We had the lights off and we were snuggled together in a duvet, but their attention and excitement was much more than I have seen with the DVDs on the big plasma downstairs (okay, it's not that big, but it's bigger than an old combi barely wider than the slot for a VHS).

This is the bit where Tarkin blows Alderaan up.

Come to think of it, it's one of a number of scenes where
Leia is shown to be in need of rescue. Luckily, she rescues
herself otherwise I would have serious issues...
At about halfway through the film, Alderaan had been blown up, we ceased and I promised that we would see the rest the following night. There was something special about seeing it on VHS, the Boy tried to explain how we had little boxes that we put in the big box to make it all work to Tilly, who found that rather funny, and the Girlie was fascinated by the story. Of course we watched the next installment and then went straight on to Empire Strikes Back the night after that (though the Girlie eschewed that in favour of resting after a long day rehearsing her dance show). Interestingly, the Boy was much more involved and emotionally attached to the second film. The darker feeling to it and the slightly harder plot seemed to hook him. Tonight, we saw the training of Dagobah, including the fight in the cave, through to the end. Although the Girlie was bubbling over with excitement as we progressed into the duel between Vader and Skywalker she couldn't bring herself to actually ask questions, as she usually does, and watched with rapt attention. Both children cuddled in as the twist was revealed, "I am your father" intones Vader, and gasped at the right points. It was quite something to feel and see the reactions that I had heard from other parents first hand. I had assumed that my own children would be almost dismissive as neither had been pushed toward sci-fi at all by me, nor had they shown any inclination toward it.

The climatic scene.
Both children also asked the same question at about the same point (as Skywalker hangs beneath Bespin awaiting rescue): "But how did Darth Vader become Luke's Daddy?" Which, although slightly the wrong way around, shows an interesting take on the story so far. I find it of interest because I had always planned to show the films in machete order. But, as I have disclosed here, I only have the original trilogy (okay, special edition) on VHS. That's it. I have no DVDs, no copies at all of Episodes I to III. How can I show the full story?

Part of me wants to find Episodes II and III on VHS but I don't even know if that can be done! I did look in Tesco tonight to see if they had a boxset of all six films on DVD but they did not. I'm not sure I want to go traipsing round charity shops on the off-chance of finding VHS versions of II and III either. But the question asked by both children, almost simultaneously, suggests that machete order is definitely the way to go - the story of how Anakin becomes Vader in the latter two films of the first trilogy is definitely the part that my children want to know more about next. And this is in the face of the fact that I would dearly love to show them Return of the Jedi as soon as possible. Of all the problems I thought that I would have with showing my children this little piece of my own childhood, in my own way (rather than because Star Wars is some cultural touchstone - it wasn't for me, most of my childhood I was the only child not to have seen the films and much less understood them) the lack of two of the films was not one of them. Mind you, I had assumed I would have a little bit longer to arrange things.

Given the subject, this is better than a curtsy!

Wednesday, 4 March 2015

Die Welle

I do a lesson. I call it my Nazi lesson. It's powerful. And I never feel altogether clean afterwards.

When I teach History I often find that, however enthusiastic the students, they never quite see the immediacy of what we discuss, the never join the dots between what we study and what we live. Long time readers of this blog will know of my fascination with human nature and my fears about the power and the intoxication of things like Fascism - the power of image over substance.

This... this is a film review. But I shan't really be focussing on the film. At least, not like I usually do with film reviews. This may be of interest, it may not. I'm putting a line break here because it will be long, and it will be challenging, and it's not about happiness, cross-dressing or sexuality or identity. I don't actually know what it's about either. Maybe you can be the judge.

Tuesday, 3 March 2015


Yes. Yes, this is how I have felt today.

It won't last. But I'm enjoying it whilst it
I took that trip today. There was no crisis. There was no recrimination or complaint or misunderstandings or any of the stuff that plagued me back in my last job. Instead I was complimented on my level of organisation, the smooth running of the trip and the flexibility in dealing with some pretty bad traffic on the way there so that no time was wasted and everyone got what they needed from it. Given the nature of the trip and the importance of time for the students going it was a knife-edge call and any waste would have ruined my reputation and the chances of repeating it. Instead, through a serendipitous replacement of my ultimate superior with the person in charge of authorising trips (and a notorious stickler for bureaucracy) I was complimented on the meticulous nature of the data for the trip and the impact on students. I got a clean bill of health and I suspect this trip will now become a regular annual feature. This is excellent news.

On the coach I was reading through some material for coursework standards that included example scripts and commentary from 2013. It happened to include two scripts from my old boss at my last place. The one that told me I knew nothing about standards for coursework and how to maintain marks. She was marked down on both scripts by such a level that all candidates had their work marked down, we got a snotty letter and results were destroyed for that year. Did I mention she blamed it on me before I left with the backing of another member of staff? Ha ha ha! No, seriously, I have the last laugh here and that was completely unexpected. I also had the pleasure of seeing that my own approaches and standards seem to match the exam board's - which is nice as I was never trained by them on this, I just picked it up - and that is just the icing on a very satisfying cake.

Yes, this is close to last night.
Last night Tilly held me close all night too. Grasping my arms to stop me from rolling away. I'll admit that I kinda liked that part. She was totally asleep and doesn't remember it like that, but I'm not going to complain. It was lovely, despite my wired state and the fact I was up at silly times for no reason, and I thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

I've taken the evening off in celebration. I'll pay for this in time later, but, for now, I don't feel that I shall be punished tomorrow. How different this is to my last place of work, to my relationship even a year ago. If I didn't already believe in an Imaginary Friend Who Created the Universe, I'd be tempted to. As it stands, I shall thank Him or Her Upstairs for a wonderful day and get an early night. I shan't risk a beer as I've been a bit dehydrated for a couple of days and alcohol won't exactly improve that. Friday. Friday is beer time!

Sunday, 1 March 2015

First Law!

Did you catch that?

Have you noticed how happiness is always a summer thing?
I'm not complaining, just pointing out the trope in the image.

Yes, most of those confused dreams have been like the one
reported yesterday.

Is that bad? I'm thinking that's bad.
As if it's not been obvious, my dreams have been a little more confusing of late and that is partly down to the way my life has been. There's a meltdown at work that is not me, and I am coping with it and providing more support than I ever received when it was me - and I'm keeping the Department running and getting better at the same time. This has not gone unnoticed but there is a small amount of stress at my end as it feels so much like my life used to be. Then there's a trip to a museum back where I used to live from the place I now work that is causing no small amount of anxiety - it should go well and be a positive experience for all concerned (and I have my ultimate superior aboard so it should be even easier) but there's always a worry, I've kind of gambled my reputation on getting it to go!

This is a library picture image of a boy with chickenpox.
This boy is also, apparently, five. But, eh, close enough.
At home, the Boy has had chickenpox for the week and so the family has been shut in and unable to go out properly. On Saturday this meant that our usual Daddy/Boy adventure into town wasn't a fixture and so I didn't get my little fill from leafing through charity shop bargain rails of women's clothing as I passed to keep me going. But this week has thrown up other things that may or may not be of note.

Last night was a first. A genuine actual first. In that, and I don't know how to put this politely without feeling like I'm kissing and telling. If you've read the posts here you'll know that I hesitate to blare everything I do from the proverbial rooftops, indeed, even here I tend to be quite private about my life beyond the confines set by this blog. While I can be open and detailed about arguments, my mental state, the clothes that I choose to wear and enjoy, even my fantasies from time to time - I am less open and honest with what goes on outside that. I can talk ad nauseam about the situation in my marriage, usually after a line break, and drop huge lyrical beer reviews from time to time on here but I am more circumspect about other things.

So, this gets a TMI and a line break. Here. If you don't really want to go any further just note my slightly breathless tone and smile. Yes, I am smiling. And that should really say everything without any specifics.