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 May 2015

IDGAF

No apologies and no more rhymes.


This is more to do with the General Election than my mother
but it properly fits here rather than elsewhere.

Also, those dresses and skirts...
Recently, my mother was up to visit and things were... well, she always said to tell her if she started behaving like my grandmother and, well, she's started to act like my grandmother. On arrival she was louder than necessary (the children had just gone to bed) and when given a cup of tea announced that it was too hot and heavy to hold (she had just taken it from my hand). On sipping it, she announced that she liked less milk than that. Then demanded the code for wi-fi in the middle of a conversation, refusing to engage on any other topic until we had tried three times to connect and failed. All to look up the results of the UK General Election that I had on my laptop anyway. Which we then looked at. On my laptop.

Heh, this is a reasonable representation of my wife and
perfectly encapsulates at least three reasons why I am
vaguely jealous of what she has achieved.

And yes, the hair and the nightshirt equate to one of those
reasons, of course they do!
In the meantime, Tilly was working on her book upstairs. I shared my pride and faux jealousy (though it is rather painfully obvious that I am also actually jealous of her success in this measure) at her success and her writing in general. She has book due out in July, a series of three novels (no, really) written and in varying stages of completeness for which there is already a market of strangers waiting to buy and a second book contract in the works. Just plain wow! Anyway, I jokingly explained that this had pretty much ended my writing with the self-deprecating remark that I had yet to finish any work. I laughed. My mother didn't. She asked if I was still writing. I said no. She explained to me that this was because I hadn't ever finished anything. And then went on to explain that I never would and perhaps I should give up writing. At another point in her visit my mother, who helped us move into the house, asked if we had a toilet under the stairs (we don't, it's a tiny cupboard).

Yeah, this sums it up quite well. Except that my mother is
much larger. By volume she probably exerts more
gravitational pull than all of the world's spiders put together.

Well, okay, that's an exaggeration, but certainly a greater
gravitational pull than all the spiders currently in my vicinity.

Assuming large numbers of spiders.
When the family went out for the day and Tilly said she didn't want to do a particular activity it became an all-encompassing quest of my mother to make that activity happen. On it, for it did happen, she attempted to get our children to want to do it again but just with Mummy. That didn't work and backfired spectacularly, souring that activity a little for the children as well. Without noticing what she'd done, my mother continued to try and throw in little seeds of irritation with the children. I'll be honest, were it not for her husband, I'm not sure we would have remained civil. Luckily, she left soon afterwards and then went home. One other feature of the visit was the problem with my grandfather, who seems to be displaying symptoms of advanced Alzheimer's, and the fact that my mother can't work with him - she now treats him in much the same way as my grandmother did. The dead one. The one with Dementia.

Yes, yes, I get that it's out of a person's control but, frankly, being emotionally stunted means that I don't see the point in putting up with that kind of hurtful shit. I didn't put up with it from my grandmother in the end and felt much better when I walked away - to the point where I do wonder why I didn't try much earlier than I did. I lost nothing in walking away from the poison of her insanity and gained much in equilibrium instead. I shall tell my mother if she heads the same way and apply the same logic there.

Now, Joanna, we've been through the
differences between mental image and
reality...
This last weekend I went up to my previous place of abode and met up with some ex-colleagues for a night on the tiles. It was a good night, and much less depressing than the last time I went and ended up revealing the long drought and slow drift of sexual relations with Tilly. Much fun was had, both colleagues now moving into different phases of work and one leaving, through promotion, to another place and being rather happy about it. Indeed, listening to their tales they have both made the right decisions and it has made my own job-move all the more positive and helpful, if there had ever been any doubt about that in the first place!

Work has been busy. Flaky colleague remains flaky. An occupational health review argued that this colleague was not fit to work so, legally, we had to send them home. They went to the GP and got a "fit-note" and are now back at work. Eventful? You don't know the half of it! Still, I rather enjoy this kind of pressure and my current place of work has given plenty of space to deal with it (and that is the best kind of support in my book). So, stressful few weeks, plenty of late evenings and being tired (hence the lack of content on here) but a good few weeks.




Eh, close enough.

For once, I identify more with the male in the image. But not
entirely as the two people here are disturbingly shaved.
On the subject of sexual relations with Tilly, as a by the bye, but beyond a line-break, there has also been movement. On the Thursday before my mother's visit Tilly initiated and we had a great time, no, really. I think for the first time in a very long time I enjoyed every moment. I was surprised, pleasantly, by Tilly taking the lead, taking control of the pace and also holding my wrists down as she did so. Obviously I liked that, one of my most popular posts on here is all about how much I like taking the submissive role on bondage and this was about as close as I suspect I'll ever get in real life to that situation. I didn't climax, not until much later, but I'll be honest - I didn't need to. Don't get me wrong, happy to have done so (though it was eventually under my own steam) but I thoroughly enjoyed the situation beforehand (I was pretty close but she finished moments before I did and slid away). Since then we've had period and phantom illnesses again, but I'm not knocking the experience at all. We'll see if this continues - at the moment we're up to about once a month or less (so, still, technically, sexless) - but it is much more positive than this time a year ago.

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