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I could remember what it felt like, what it smelt like and for a second I could see my Gran waiting at the other side of the pelican crossing when on my way home from school.
It was 25 years ago, but the image was very vivid.
Life moves along and it has brought me back to the same town that I had spent my young years in. Since then I had spent some time in other towns and with other members of my step-family.
As i decided to go a road run tonight, i visited the old part of town that I spent those young years in and I remembered.
My old Grampa, who has been dead for many years, never said goodbye or cheerio, 'a kiss, a cuddle and a smack on the bum and that is incase you are naughty before the next time i see you'. Sweet and will never be forgotten.
My other Grandfather used to take us fishing to the dam and tell us his war stories. He was in the Home Guard during the war. He would tell us of marching up and down the Main Street in town using long handled brooms as make-shift weapons for rifle drill. He met his life long companion, my Gran, at a bus stop and bought her a bag of chips. They married soon after and had 6 children. Sadly Francis was lost, in the arms of his Father.
The same Grampa was very handy restoring hoovers and had a cupbaord of junk bits, that would one day be used to restore somone's electrical appliance. He made a wooden foot stool and painted it white. It was 12 inch high and only big enough to be used for its main purpose. I used to turn it upside down and beg for hours to be pulled round the living room like I was in a go-kart.
I am unsure if i should mention the home-brew. That was a long standing excuse for friends and family to visit. My Mum brought me and my brother up alone and we would spend lots of Saturday afternoons berry picking to make the home brew and jam. I had the honour of writing the labels for the jam-jars, I particularly loved this job because i would get to stick a finger in the pot and lick it off when Mum wasn't looking.
All this and i wasn't even 7 years old.
No playstation generation. No Nintendo Wii. No internet.
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Dear Mum,
since you abandoned me less than a week ago its been chaos here. The weather has been snow/sleet/hail/rain/fog with occasional bursts of sunshine. Many of those have occurred simultaneously.
Today there was sunshine which was doing its best to dry out all the muddy puddles around Easby Abbey, just to help the sun out I decided the best thing to do was to soak up as much of the muddy water as possible. This pleased everyone so much that I've had another bath and a hair cut today.
From what I overheard earlier I'm going to the 'you know who' to get my claws seen to tomorrow, no doubt it'll be a good excuse for me to whimper, whine and look pathetic.
Well that's all I've got time for today, its not easy being a dead ginger pirate tap dancing dog you know.
Arrrrr, arrrrr, whoooooo whooooooo. etc
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It’s pretty clear that life’s journey is not just about peaks and troughs, but there are many plateaus as well. Sometimes things just tick along very nicely thanks very much. No excitement, no major milestones, no huge disappointments. Just getting on with travelling the road of life. Of course even when you reach a plateau the journey continues. The view still changes and the distance to travel becomes shorter as the starting point recedes into the background of your life. It just doesn’t seem so… significant.
In the last few months my life has been like that. No major, dramatic steps, just gradual changes and more distance covered. I’ve accepted myself, and others around me have as well, some more easily than others. I’m learning more about being myself, and putting my past behind me. Do I want to forget who I was? No, who I was is a major part of who I am. Nothing can change the past, one can only use it to strengthen the future.
I have found that my experience intrigues some people. I have made no secret about what I am going through, and what it means to me, and how I feel about it. I’ve told of my fears, my joys, the struggle with self-realisation and the pain that that can bring. And do you know what? Through telling my story I am achieving things. I’m helping, in my own little way, to combat some of the ignorance that surrounds those in my position.
Back in January I attended the MoD LGBT Forum at JHQ Rheindahlen. It was a two day conference reviewing aspects of being in a small minority group that serves in the Forces and MoD Civil Service. Many of those attending knew me anyway, and I was able to stand up and tell them a little about me, and how my condition has been managed by the Army. And it’s a positive, good news story. I have had very little trouble at all – in fact I can only recall one reaction that could really be described as negative. People are moving with the times it seems, and even if they don’t accept differences, they still tolerate them. I don’t know if that’s because their attitude has changed, or the fact that the world is so PC now that people are worried about saying something. All I do know is that it has made my life easier and more comfortable. Anyway, what I had to say was well received. The following day my wife also stood up to take questions about my changes, and how they affected her. It seems that our open and honest approach has an affect on people, and the word ‘inspiration’ was used a few times. It was never our intention to be inspirational, but if my experience helps someone else, or changes someone else’s viewpoint, then isn’t that something to feel good about?
One of the scariest moments of my Transition from male to female was not, surprisingly, the day I went into work in female mode. It was last month. The day we realised that my hair had thickened and grown to such an extent that I no longer needed to wear a wig. I was aware that my wig had become a safety net. At this early stage in my transition there is much about me that still looks masculine. Even after laser treatment on my face it is still not the soft skin of a female, and the hormones are not some miracle drug that will change me over night. So I wear a concealing make up. And OK, I have breasts – some of which are mine, and some of which are ‘chicken fillets’. Still, the first thing that someone really sees is the hair. My wig gave me an illusion of femininity. It was not perfect (hey, I’m not rich enough for that!). It was a feminine style, and framed my face the way a genetic girl’s hair does. But now my hair was thicker. My wig was not such a good fit any more because of my real hair beneath it, and it was getting tatty. I went into work far more nervous than my first day as a woman. There were a few double takes, and a few people commented, but it seems clear that my fears were unfounded. Let me just explain something here. 9 months ago I was nearly bald on the top of my head, and my hairline was high up, almost to the top of my head. Oh yeah, I also had a No2 all over. Although still not perfect I have enough hair to give an approximation of a feminine style. Still a long way to go, but baby steps, as they say, baby steps.
My treatments have continued in much the same manner that they were before. Regular check ups in London with a Gender Specialist, blood tests, hormone treatment etc. My Testosterone levels are now way, way down, and my oestrogen levels are up. Both levels are similar to those of a genetic girl. Physical growth and changes continue, and my emotional state has settled. I’m happy. I laugh. Lots! I have now reached a stage where I have been referred to a surgeon who will complete the major surgery on me. I’ve heard good reviews of his work, and the hospital (a private hospital, which I will pay for myself…) looks and sounds excellent. I’ll be having my initial consultation with him in April. I hope to be accepted for surgery in October.
I’m just back from Shrivenham. For those that don’t know, Shrivenham is a Joint Service school, near Swindon. One of the courses that run there is the Equality and Diversity Advisor course. I have never enjoyed a course more than this. With a rank range from Sgt to Maj (and light and dark blue, and Civil Service equivalents) there were many people with many views. The discussions were open and honest. The chance to review your own prejudices was very revealing (although the joke about the French should maybe have been kept to myself…). Of course, one of the subjects in the curriculum was the Management of Transgender Service Personnel. I was more than glad to answer questions and to dispel some myths. And educate! A very rewarding course, and I would recommend it to anyone. You never know how far you can open your eyes until they are opened for you. If the chance comes for me to be an instructor on the course, I’d jump at it.
So, anyway. Thanks for indulging me again. If you don’t like what I’ve said, well, I never forced you to read it did I? My journey will continue, I’m sure there will be hills to climb, and there’ll be holes that try and swallow me up. I will carry on up the road. My destination is over the hill in the distance, but I know it’s there.
The map tells me so.
© Legs 2008
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Friday, 8th February 2008
Wearily disembarking from the plane at Singapore's Changi Airport I'm feeling more ashamed and embarrassed than I've ever felt in my life.
Mrs Jim is looking daggers at me and my fellow passengers are either pointing open-mouthed in wonder (or is that disgust?) or studiously avoiding eye contact, probably because they're afraid that if I met their gaze I might chew off their nose or set fire to their hand luggage.
It seems that in the latter half of the thirteen hour flight from the UK to Singapore I'd fallen asleep. That's good, you might think, and normally you’d be right. Except that this time I'd had one of my bouts of night terrors and had unknowingly provided some unscheduled in-flight entertainment for a couple of dozen people in the adjacent rows of seats.
During my sleep I'd ranted, I'd sworn, offered violence to anyone in my immediate vicinity, and I'd somehow managed to throw a book with considerable force across the aeroplane cabin into the lap of a startled woman some distance away. (And before you ask, no it wasn’t the ‘Little Book of Calm’.) All whilst so deeply asleep that I couldn't be woken. At one point I even announced that I was going to ‘get off the f***ing aeroplane' which might have proved an interesting prospect if I'd followed it through, as at the time the plane was cruising at 40,000 feet somewhere over the Indian Ocean. I think perhaps some of the other passengers wished I had. Can't say I blame them either.
This kind of nocturnal activity has happened to me many times before but always in the privacy of my own house where only my long-suffering wife has had to endure it, and frankly I wasn't prepared for the amount of adverse attention that a public performance would generate. Hence my crestfallen mood as we plodded through Changi airport.
Looking on the bright side though, at least I didn't do my party piece on a flight to America. If I did I'd probably have been shot dead by a sky marshal, or first Tasered then bundled into orange overalls and held in a high security chicken coop for the next decade whilst being water boarded every fifteen minutes and force fed on bacon sandwiches.
Luckily a good sleep in the transit hotel left Mrs Jim in much more sympathetic mood, and the onward seven hour flight to Adelaide went without further problems.
Well I say without problems, but what I mean is without problems caused by me; there were still the dozen or so screaming infants who, like burglar alarms in a thunderstorm, went off in sympathy with each other every few minutes to leave everyone within earshot limp, bedraggled and exhausted by the end of the journey.
Anyway here we are, finally in Australia, some two days and several deep vein thromboses after leaving the UK. More from me later when I've recovered. Until then, take care.
Monday, 11th February 2008
We'll, at last I've done it. Some three years after beginning the application process, I now have permanent Australian Resident status.
Today I went to the Currie Street offices of Adelaide's Immigration and Citizenship Department and, after waiting an hour or so in the company of what seemed like most of south east Asia, I got my turn at counter number six. Tap tap went the clerk on a keyboard, click click, whirr whirr went a machine by her side, and there it was; the magical sticker in my passport that confirms I am now officially a permanent Australian resident.
How can I describe how it feels? Absolutely brilliant, that's how. I've scored the winning goal in extra time of the FA Cup Final, I've had my knighthood ceremony interrupted by a messenger announcing that an eight-figure lottery cheque awaits me in the lobby of Buck House, and I've heard from reliable sources that Piers Morgan has been given a life sentence for kiddy fiddling. And on top of that I learn that Jim Junior's Captaincy is now through.
Happy days indeed. More tales from my 2008 Down Under trip soon.
LJ
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Hi All,
I am new to this, still finding my way around! Not sure if I am even doing this message right..lol
My OH is re-badging to Light Dragoon and we will be moving to Swanton Morley soon. Can anyone please tell me what the area, people, schools, work etc is like in the area? I thught I'd ask in case there are any nasty surprises I should look forward to...lol 
Also, Dereham 6th Form College.. is it a good college? Our son is 15, are there other kids that age in the camp?
Sorry about all the questions...
Thanks
W
x
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See the way I see things blogs are either about one of two things A) the random babblings of the mind or B) a source of which some one shares information in order to help or provide knowledge though personal experiences.
I’m hoping that this blog will be the latter of the two, but I am sure I will end up jabbering on at some stage
In Around 12 Months time I will hopefully be opening my own business. The business will be called the Spirit of Adventure which is an out door education and community center based around getting young people off the street and active not only sporting wise but in there local community. The company is unlike a normal one, where by the directors will sell it and make a profit at some stage it. It is a community interest Company, which means that any profits that are generated gets put directly back into the center. There for we can continually expand and maintain providing affordable services.
So about the Spirit of Adventure…
The Spirit of Adventure will be located on the borders of Surrey and Middx, and will provide services to all young people with in a 30-mile radius. So that includes Windsor, Aldershot and Pirbright and any other patches with in that area. Of course the centre will be open to all young people, regardless of were they come from.
The aim of the Spirit of Adventure is to promote, throughout Surrey, the educational and social welfare of young people. The Spirit of Adventure aims to enable the development of successful personal relationships, social and environmental awareness, individual self-expression and self-determination, through positive experiences and progressive learning.
Think, Challenge, Discover Believe…
The main objectives of the Spirit of Adventure are:
∑ To concentrate recourses on securing the provisions of opportunities for young people.
∑ To promote and organize social education opportunities for young people and their communities in order to assist in the development of mature and responsible behavior.
∑ To encourage participation and healthy lifestyles through supportive and developed opportunities, facilities and programmes.
∑ To attract local residents and day to long-term tourists to use a range of opportunities, facilities and programmes.
∑ To build a strong and well-managed partnership between the council and the project, generating benefits, particularly in terms of ‘value’ adding to council resources.
∑ Accommodating increasing visitation and population growth whilst ensuring a sustainable natural environment.
∑ To promote and protect the conservation values of the county
∑ To promote and provide a quality service, facility, programmes and opportunities that foster community health and well-being and is committed to strengthening it’s communities.
∑ To encourage and maintain an equal access to a range of quality services and opportunities for all.
The purpose of Youth and Community Work within the community is to provide learning opportunities, activities and experiences for individuals, youth and communities groups. These can be educational, social, and recreational and are responsive to need. The Spirit of Adventure will be locally accessible, affordable and of good quality. The Spirit of Adventure is center-based and will include projects, outreach or detached work. Curriculum Development refers to all learning opportunities, activities and experiences that are planned and guided by Instructors and Community Workers, whether carried out in groups or by individuals.
Curriculum Development in Youth and Community Work consists of:
EQUAL PARTICIPATION: The Spirit of Adventure outlines the importance of securing the full participation of all individuals in both youth and community settings, through active involvement in programme planning, delivery and management of their respective organisation.
TRAINING: The Spirit of Adventure details the wide variety of training opportunities provided for all individuals to assist with the development of both youth and community provision.
TRAVEL and EXCHANGE: The Spirit of Adventure outlines the value of individuals traveling out of their usual home environment together with the support available to them.
OUTDOOR EDUCATION: The Spirit of Adventure clarifies the role of outdoor activities in relation to meeting individuals’ needs.
YOUTH INFORMATION: The Spirit of Adventure identifies the importance of providing young people with information, which will help them to make informed decisions.
HEALTH EDUCATION: The Spirit of Adventure emphasizes the key role which youth and community groups play in promoting healthy living.
SPORT and RECREATION: The Spirit of Adventure stresses the value of participating in sport and recreation to promote the personal, social and physical development of individuals
COMMUNITY SERVICE AND ENVIRONMENTAL AWARENESS: The Spirit of Adventure encourages groups to look at the wider aspects of involvement in their community and environment.
ENTERPRISE INITIATIVES: The Spirit of Adventure encourages Enterprise Initiatives, which stress the value of individuals undertaking challenging opportunities.
TESTING VALUES and BELIEFS: The Spirit of Adventure stresses the important role, which youth and community groups play in enabling individuals to explore their own values and beliefs, in relation to themselves and others.
SUPPORT SERVICES: The Spirit of Adventure indicates the broad range of services provided in support of curriculum development and delivery.
EVALUATION: The Spirit of Adventure Stresses the importance of evaluating aims, objectives and outcomes, based on needs, so the effectiveness of provision can be assessed.
CITIZENSHIP: The Spirit of Adventure highlights the opportunities for individuals and groups to make a valuable contribution to their local community and society as a whole.
So if you have read this far and not got board congrats….
So how do you start a center of this type?
Research it has taken over 3 years of research, and when I mean research I mean everything, national obesity rates, crime rates, work and education, How to form a business, legal structures, child protection, the list is endless… you name it I have read it.
And for people that want to start there own business there are some excellent FREE support available all over the UK. Business link provide free course and mentors, and even with in the charity department there are excellent counselors!
So here I am 12 months from opening, and today I have finally managed to get to the courts to have the company formation papers signed before I send them off to companies house, I call one of these internet companies today to see what services there offer to get it done quickly, the fact is it looks like I have saved over £200 by doing it myself. All I have to do now is wait for the papers to come back and I can start applying for funding.
I already have some backers ready to donate money one of which is a well-known airplane manufactures, and for every plan that takes off from Heathrow I get 50p, as part of there carbon off setting. So I will up date my blog over the next year, so people can see how the center is progressing.
If anyone has any ideas of what they would like to see or have any kids that might what to share there ideas, please feel free…
Wish me luck!
LMPP
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The time just after New Year is normally a time to review the year just past. A time to plan the next year. To make the (normally hollow) promises to quit this, do more of that and less or the other. To figure out what mistakes we have made and what we have done well. Invariably we tend to realise a chain of events that has led us to where we are now. We turn the year into a summary of highlights. We’ve all seen the ‘Review of The Year’ on telly, now it’s my turn.
A year ago I was coming up to the end of an Operational Tour in Sarajevo, Bosnia. I became very depressed and pretty much suicidal while I was there. The trial of attempting to ‘fit in’ to a macho military environment while struggling to suppress the feminine, real me was causing me to sink. The short relief of a ‘Fancy Dress’ party where I got to dress as a girl just made things worse. It was the fake me pretending to a fake real me. Does that make sense? It does to me. I was pretending to try to look and act like a girl, while in reality trying to NOT act like the real girl I was – just In case I got figured out. What a paradox! I decided during this deployment that I could act no longer. I had to be me or I would die. I was prepared for the difficulties that would accompany this decision, but I felt that there was no real choice.
I returned from Sarajevo, had some leave and saw a Doctor. I saw a Psychiatrist and I saw a Gender Specialist. I changed my name. I’ve seen counsellors. I’ve had interviews with various people. I’ve answered questions and ignore jibs. I’ve attempted to reason with family and explain what is going on with me, and with my mind and body. I’ve figured that some just won’t or can’t accept the new me. I’ve bitten my tongue instead of saying what I REALLY want to say. I’ve shed tears, I’ve thrown tantrums. I’ve chatted to and hugged those that care. I’ve talked to others who have no idea what I’m going through or why, and I’ve enlightened them. I’ve talked to others who WANT to go through what I’m going through and helped them. I’ve laughed with others. I’ve laughed at myself. I’ve realised that I really shouldn’t care what the guy in the street thinks of me. If he thinks I’m a freak, well, that’s really his narrow mindedness showing, and I should pity him for his disability… I have probably made more friends this past year than I have ever had in my life. A year ago I vaguely knew two families on my estate. This year I know most of them. I’ve become a part of our community. Initially I guess it was out of curiosity (What the hell makes a guy become a girl, and how does he/she look in a skirt? type curiosity), but no I am just seen as one of the girls. OK, one of the hubbies refuses to speak to me, and a couple are scared of saying the wrong thing, or still don’t know how to take me. Don’t forget, these are soldiers. Men should be macho, and girls should be cooking… But on the whole, life IS better that it was a year ago. I can stop acting. I can be WHO I AM!!
No, life isn’t perfect. I was upset on Christmas Day when I received my present from my Father. He does not accept the new me. We still speak on the phone, but we don’t talk. His Christmas card to me didn’t contain a name. It just said ‘Happy Christmas, from Dad’. Not much feeling there. Even worse came when my present was addressed to my old (male) name, and contained the first thing that was listed on my Amazon wish list. The item that happened to be listed and marked clearly for my other half. Was it deliberate? A kick in the teeth? Maybe it was a message, or just him not thinking. My Step Sister and her husband, and my Step Brother didn’t even bother sending Christmas Cards this year. I will not let this get me down though. My Partner and my Son love me, and they are the ones who count. My 14 year old son accepts the new me and is happy to be seen with me – a rare honour from a teenager! My partner still loves me and remains side by side with me on this journey. We are happy together, and remain committed to each other.
What about work? Well, I’m still in the Army; I’m still in the same place in Germany. I’m now working as a Chief Clerk in a Personnel and Welfare policy branch. It’s ideal for me. I can do some good there. I am allowed as much time off as I need for the various treatments and appointments. I am involved now in the Army LGBT forum as the LGBT Rep for Germany and the Trans Rep for the whole Army. I have had a number of requests to speak to small groups of people, and to attend conferences. I spoke at an LGBT Conference in London in November and was told that I was inspirational. I never planned to be inspirational! I get calls and messages from all around the world offering support, asking questions and from old colleagues who want to catch up. An old friend of mine who I lost touch with 15 years ago has heard about me and made contact. I am touching other peoples’ lives, and making them see more, learn more and accept more. That can only be a good thing. All in my unit tolerate who I am now, and most of them accept it. There has not been any stand-offishness. At work of course I still wear the same uniform, but my hair, breasts and face make a clear difference. Even on social events no-one seems concerned about being with me.
Physically much has changed. Most obviously my mode of dress. I dress as me. If I wish to wear a skirt, I will, or if I prefer to wear jeans, well that’s up to me as well! My hair is growing and thickening. I am pally with my local salon and they look after me well with my hair and eyebrows. My beard shadow is going thanks to IPL. It still hurts, but it is worth it! I now need to find and Electrolysis studio to deal with the white hairs. I now have breasts. Not huge (about an AA – not bad for only 5 months hormones!) but they are mine. My figure is changing noticeably, although I have put on weight again over the festive season. My bum has changed and so have my hips. Female jeans now fit better than ever!
A look ahead? Well, the hormones continue to do there stuff and I hope for more changes to become apparent. I have more IPL to look forward to and Electrolysis to find. I have more talks to give and more conferences to attend. I am hoping to go on a MoD Equality and Diversity Advisor course in the New Year. I hope to be jetting off to Thailand in October of SRS and BA (if required). Interspersed with that is my hope that I can get the rest of my family on side. Who knows? It could happen…
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Well I only have a couple more days left at work and then im off again to finish off my maternity leave.
My little girl is now 4 months and one weeks old and weights 15 pound.
I love having her in my life and it makes me enjoy everyday epesially when i come home from work and she has this adorable smile on her face which lights up the whole room.
Well weve just run out of work so i thought id start typing my blog.
See yous all tommorrow maybe i'll have something a little bit more interesting to say. 
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This is an account of a short break in Amsterdam Mrs Jim and I took a few days ago. Whilst there I made a few notes on my Dell Axim, which I've now uploaded to my PC and posted here for your pleasure. I hope you enjoy reading it.
Sunday, 25th November 2007.
As I begin this chapter of my blog Mrs Jim and I are on the second of our four nights in Amsterdam. It's a city I've never visited before and I want us to top up on European culture before we make our final move to Australia, so what better excuse for a short holiday to break up the joyless months leading up to Christmas?
Earlier today, armed with our 72-hour passes that give us unlimited journeys on Amsterdam's excellent tram network, we went into the city centre for a general look around. At first sight, but only at first sight, Amsterdam is pretty much just another north European city; buskers outside the central train station, those human statue type people in the main square, and a few individuals doing nothing to improve the city's pigeon problem (there are thousands upon thousands of them!) by emptying carrier bags full of feed on the floor of the square. Bloody morons.
Where it does differ from other cities is in its amazing canal system. There is water everywhere, and I can imagine that in summer it must be very pleasant to sit at a pavement café idly watching the small boats glide by. Today however a bitingly cold wind ushered all but the most hardy people indoors before a sudden violent hailstorm temporarily emptied the streets altogether. I can only hope that the shop windows are centrally heated, otherwise those poor women who sit there all day and night modelling lingerie will surely get hypothermia (they wear so little, you know?). I don't know how much they get paid but it can't be enough at this time of year.
From what we've seen today Amsterdam is a city of stark contrasts. High art and magnificent architecture jostle for space with seedy sex shows, plastic tourist tat and officially-sanctioned ‘coffee shops’ where drugs are openly taken.
Before we go home we hope to find time in our schedule to see at least some of the art and architecture.
But I'm getting things a little out of sequence, so let me briefly go back to the beginning.
Last night, by prior arrangement we were picked up at our hotel by none other than ARRSE's own Ord_Sgt (who lives in Holland) and his delightful girlfriend. They drove us to a very decent Thai restaurant where the four of us had a good meal, a few drinks, and talked about what's best to see in Amsterdam and what might be better to leave out. It was a very pleasant evening indeed and a good way to start our break. If you ever read this A, thanks again for the good company, a good night and some invaluable local information.
The only down side to the night occurred when I, in a moment of madness induced by a surfeit of Thai green curry and Heineken, divulged to Ord_Sgt my most guilty secret, the one thing I fervently hoped fellow ARRSErs would never discover. Even though the moment lasted only a matter of seconds, I truly wish I'd kept my mouth shut. But I didn't, and the deed is irrevocably done.
However I'm confident that Ord_Sgt is a man of the highest honour and would rather die than betray my trust in him. Well that, and the hefty monthly direct debit he persuaded me to make out in favour of his Dutch bank account.
But where were we? Oh yes, back to Sunday night.
It's absolutely filthy weather outside as I type this entry, with a howling wind and driving rain, so tonight we'll be travelling no further than the hotel bar where, coincidentally, we're bound for now. I'll write some more drivel in a day or so. Bye for the moment.
Monday 26th November 2007
When we arrived at the hotel on Saturday we were told that we'd have to change rooms today, but were reassured that the replacement room would be of equal quality to our original one. That was good to hear because our first room was amazingly vast; 36 feet by 42 feet, with a ceiling at least 25 feet high. There's even a sort of minstrel's gallery down one wall, and more dark wood panelling that you'll find in the whole of Welbeck Abbey.
Make no mistake, this is a really quirky place to stay. It's the former headquarters of a dockside shipping agency, converted into an hotel by a consortium of stoned Dutch architects with additional creative input from artists inspired by Vincent Van Gogh's last two years. (The ones he spent in a mental hospital before fatally shooting himself in the chest.) But strangely it works, at least in the most part.
Anyway this lunchtime we left our packed bags in the room and went out for an afternoon of sight seeing. And very educational it was too. The Rijksmuseum was well worth an hour or two and, despite conflicting reports we'd received about it, we really enjoyed the Van Gogh museum too. By the time we'd finished being culture vultures it was a little too late for a canal boat trip so after a tour around the city centre on the no. 5 tram we headed back to the hotel and our new room.
Our replacement room is, er, let's say interesting. The furniture looks as if it's from the nineteenth century (but not in a good way), there's a giant bath in the middle of the room and, as it's been created within the roof void of the building, there are shiny silver ventilation pipes snaking through the rafters. It's like the bizarre offspring of an impoverished artist's garret and (for those of you who remember The Crystal Maze) the industrial zone. I keep expecting Richard O'Brien to burst in and set me a two-minute command task.
In short I don't like it. Perhaps I just don't have what it takes to appreciate this level of irony. Possibly I don't get the Dutch 'funkinesh' thing at all, but as we only have two nights left I won't ask to be moved. I'll just let my views be known at reception.
Besides, unlike our original room, the television in this one has a working remote control and access to a triple-X adult channel after eight o'clock in the evening.
(A late post script: after returning from the bar, I find that the triple-X channel doesn't work on this television either. Oh Bugger. Or not, as the case might be.)
Wednesday 28th November 2007
Yesterday we rounded off our short visit with a canal boat trip and a visit to the Ould Kirk. Very pleasant. A slight glitch on our flight home when engineers found something sticking out of the plane that shouldn’t have been there, but an hour and a half later a replacement aircraft was found and away we went back to the UK.
We’ve found the Dutch people to be extremely friendly and helpful, in a way that has none of that ‘have a nice day’ falseness about it. Whilst we were waiting at the airport the captain even came over the public address system apologising for the delay, and saying that ‘I know shome of you might have an important meeting or perhapsh want to go for a shmoke’. I don’t remember that happening at any other airport I’ve passed through. More like ‘There’s a delay and it’s not our fault so just sit there and be patient you scum.’
That’s about it. I’ll write again when there’s something to talk about but until then, bye for now.
LJ
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Yesterday I filled the car up and took a little drive up to Tidworth to visit a member of this site. I think it only fair for her to remain anonymous, due to the following story.
I arrived in Tidworth at about 9.30. After a quick wee and tea we decided to take a little trip to Andover to buy - let's call her "X"' s husband's Christmas present from La Senza (you know how this works ladies, you buy the basque - he gets the present!) So, after piling into my little rust bucket we trundled peacefully along the A338, fully intending to turn onto the A303 to Andover. Unfortunately, as I need to lip read to hold a conversation, I was turning towards X to catch what she was saying just as the turn off came up. We missed it.
"No worries, stay on this road and we'll hit Salisbury in about the same time it would have taken to get to Adnover," says "X" and sure enough it wasn't long before the first sign came up for the Park and Ride.
However, the thought of someone else driving me didn't appeal, so we carried on into the town centre.
A couple of hours traipsing round underwear shops with a perfect size 12 mother of 4 is pretty depressing for a fat, frumpy 40-something, so to drown my sorrows we invaded Pizza Hut 
Feeling refreshed (and 2 stone heavier!) and secure in the knowledge I had received my money's worth from the buffet we then headed back to the carpark for the 20 minute journey back to Tidders.
20 minutes!!! HA!!!! Not with "X" navigating!!!!!!!
I made a small faux-pas at a mini roundabout coming out of Salisbury, but "X" was adamant that if we follow the signs to Amesbury we'd be back on the right road in no time!
Look at those pretty thatched cottages....
Amesbury came and went without either of us noticing, so we carried on, having become comfortable on that particular road.
Oh look, more pretty cottages.....
"Bulford!" says I, "that's near you innit?"
"Nah, just keep going, Tidworth will be signed up soon..."
WOW! A thatched cottage....
Netheravon
Enford
West Chisenbury
Upavon
Pewsey
Huish
"This doesn't feel right," says I through gritted teeth.
"No, no," say "X", "my next door neighbour said that if I ever get lost all I have to do it head for Marlborough and Tidworth is signed up from there. Look, it's only 14 miles to Marlborough!" she sounded confident, but I'd never noticed before that her bottom lip wobbles when she speaks.
Well bugger me - another thatched cottage.....
Next thing we see signed up is the M4. M4!!! That's Wales!!!! Soon we'll be on the bridge and then all the signs will be in spittlechoke instead of english! Jones the milk will be herding his cows up the main road to Chepstow market and we'll be late home! The kids will be stood at the school gates, crying their eyes out at the unfeeling mother who doesn't care enough about them to pick them up! Panic??? Nah....!!!!
Oh look, another firkin thatched cottage!!!!!
We arrived in Marlborough. Yes, Tidworth is really well signed up(!) Nothing - absolutely nothing! We didn't have an audience, there were 3 exits to the roundabout so the 50/50 option was out of it, the only thing left to do was phone a friend. "Head for a place called "Majestic," says the friend. Oh joy, WTF is Majestic? Is it a boutique, and undertaker, a butcher? No, it's an off licence (should have realised....) Did you know that marlborough has a market on a Wednesday? No, neither did I...but I digress...
Eventually we found the offy, turned down the right road, signposted Salisbury! Not a sniff of Tidworth anywhere!
Now for the best quote of the day:
"Look, there's a picture of a tank - we can't be far from home now!" I love her to bits...honest I do.....
Another thatched cottage, then another, then another....
THEN
"YYYAAAAYYYY!!!!!"
Back to Tidworth, with enough time to spare for a quick wee and tea before "X" had to collect her bratlings from school.
Salisbury to Tidworth - a journey of around 17 miles - 2 hours and 20 minutes!!!!!!!
Moral of the story?
If you're from South London, don't know Wiltshire at all, and have to rely on a non driving navigator who herself has only just moved there - buy a Tom-Tom!!!!!
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Now that the clocks have gone back and the nights are drawing in, and because Mrs Jim has been flat out like a lizard drinking with her work lately, I've decided to book us a short holiday.
I can guess what you're probably thinking but no, it's not Tenerife. It's not the Algarve either.
In fact it's not to anywhere favoured for its warmer climate, dusky but moustachioed and hairy-armed local maidens, or all-day 'gut buster' full English breakfasts in bars run by former East End estate agents and their wrinkled orange wives dripping with Ratners jewellery.
Nope; nothing like that. We're going somewhere more cultural, more genteel, more - well, somewhere we'll be less likely to get shot, stabbed, mugged, or abducted by Moroccan slave traders. So that's London and Manchester out of the frame too.
In a few weeks we're off to Amsterdam, a place I've never been to before but which I'm keen to explore as I've heard mostly good things about the city and the Dutch people.
Of course I'll be doing some prior reading on what we can see in our four days there but if any of you esteemed fellow members have any particular recommendations for us then please fire them in. (I'm thinking of the best tourist sights and experiences in the city, not the best place to contract an unspeakably embarrassing STI.) Any helpful advice would be very much appreciated. We leave on 24th November so there's quite a bit of time to get the suggestions in should you feel inclined.
You see it's been my mission in the seven - no, make that nearly eight - years that the Antipodean Mrs Jim and I have been together to show her as much as I and my wallet can of the UK and European landscape and history. This will be the last major opportunity to do so before we leave for Australia and I'd like to make it memorable for the right reasons.
Not like the one for which a former young colleague found his Amsterdam trip memorable. He and a group of mates had gone there on a stag weekend and, somewhat predictably, they headed fairly quickly for the red light district. They found a club that offered live sex shows and, rubbing their hands (or at least I'm told it was their hands) in anticipation, duly entered.
Nothing much happened at first apart from a lot of drinking but eventually the music grew louder, the lights went up, and an attractive blonde woman appeared on the stage. She wore very little, and promptly removed all that she was wearing except her shoes and grip-top stockings.
Gyrating suggestively, she beckoned to the crowd for a volunteer to engage in some audience participation. The colleague (who, by the way, was to be the bridegroom) was reluctantly manhandled forward by his cheering mates and, climbing to the stage, stood blinking in the spotlight.
After a few more gyrations she stripped him completely naked, then went on to place some handcuffs on his wrists, connected by chains to an overhead metal framework. Then she engaged in an enthusiastic spot of noshing until the lad was visibly, er, interested.
That's when it started to go wrong. Badly wrong. Horribly wrong in fact.
From the wings of the stage emerged a brute of a man, sporting a gimp mask and nothing else apart from an enormous erection, who proceeded to roger the helplessly-manacled naked groom in front of his incredulous mates.
To give them their due they ran forward to help him, but lost out to the bouncers who outnumbered them. They later complained to the police but were told in so many words that, if they frequented that type of place, they shouldn't be surprised by what happened there.
As for the groom, he had the tricky job of explaining to his wife why he came back from his stag weekend with a John Wayne walk and several stitches in his hoop. And why he'd suddenly lost interest in his long term hobby of cycling.
Now that whole story could be a pile of elephant dung, an urban myth of staggering proportions, but if it is I haven't heard it before and it was told to me in good faith by someone who went on the trip. I don't care much either way; it made me laugh and I hope it at least made you smile too.
Bye for now,
LJ
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There's some rather good news for me as I start this edition of my blog.
As some of you will know from my 'Australia, the judges' decision is in' chapter, I've finally been granted a permanent Australian resident visa after a long and not inexpensive process. I'm chuffed!
However those of you who read it might also remember that there's just one condition, albeit a very important one; that in order to comply with the Australian immigration rules I have to enter the country (not permanently, I just have to go there even if it's only for an hour) by next May or the visa will be revoked and it will be back to square one.
Well the good news is that in pursuit of complying with that requirement I've now booked the flights and accommodation and so we'll be off for a holiday down under during February and March 2008. I intend to take my little Dell Axim and remote keyboard with me so that I can keep a log of what transpires, then post it here on my return to the UK. That's the plan anyway.
Closer to home - well, at home to be accurate - we had some more good news late last week when Jim Junior rang to say that he and his new wife would be returning north for a surprise visit.
They went to her mother’s place on Friday, then he came by himself to see Mrs Jim and I at our house on Saturday. I say by himself but that's not strictly true; he was accompanied by a new arrival to the Junior household. No, not a baby, I'm not a grandfather yet. It's a dog. A really bonny dog as it happens, with a cracking temperament, albeit a little hyperactive as he's still quite young. He's only one year old and he's a rescued dog so he doesn't yet know all the ground rules, but I'm sure he soon will.
I like dogs. I'd have one if our house was big enough, but it isn't. However on the bright side Mrs Jim says that when we move to Australia I can have a wallaby.
Don't laugh, I'm serious. It seems I really can have a wallaby as a pet if I want to. Apparently you don't need a special licence for them and they can be quite affectionate.
(They can't scrummage for toffee though. For some years wallabies have been taught that 'it's just another way of restarting the game'. Well they were wrong, which is why they went home early and England stayed until the end. If I do end up keeping a wallaby I must remember to teach it to scrummage properly.)
That reminds me: my boy's surprise visit coincided with the rugby World Cup final, so I did what any reasonable father would do; I got in some dips and nibbles, a case of imported Tiger beer (yes I know it should have been Bombardier or Spitfire bitter, but the boy prefers lager), and enough gin to incapacitate an elephant.
I know, I was that elephant.
We had a great night, rugby result notwithstanding, and did some classic father-son bonding. What I mean by that is we both got roaring drunk, I kicked his dog for eating the television remote, we argued and beat the crap out of each other, then had a good bezzering session before both he and his dog swamped the spare bed.
The same bed, unfortunately, in which I now have to sleep, having incurred Mrs Jim's displeasure by calling the entire southern hemisphere a bunch of moaning poofs with too-tight shorts, highlighted hair and a preoccupation with 'mates', which I vaguely remember insisting was code for man love.
Well, I'd had a few by then and the conversation had evolved into what's known in political circles as a free and frank exchange of views. Everywhere else it's a slanging match.
(New readers; please feel free to treat the last few paragraphs with a pinch of salt. Sometimes I embellish the facts a bit to make it seem more interesting.)
Anyway, at the half time interval Jim Junior told me the following story that you might or might not enjoy.
Whilst at Sandhurst a friend of his - yes, it really was a friend of his, and no, he wasn't called Steve - was in trap three performing the usual functions. Too late in the proceedings he noticed that there wasn't any toilet paper. Knowing that someone else had just occupied trap two, the Ocdt called out;
'Hey mate, have you got any spare paper in there?'
After a brief delay the reply came back. It wasn't the one expected, and it certainly wasn't what was wanted. In fact I'd go so far as to say that it was emphatically not what was wanted.
The unmistakable gravely broad Scots accent of a well-known and much feared brick-outhouse DS Colour Sergeant growled in a menacing monotone;
'Therrrre might be.'
It was a good thing that the lad was sitting where he was or there might have been more than the usual amount of dhobi work to do that night. Nevertheless he gathered his wits, gibbered an apology for calling the Colour Sergeant 'mate', or at least a semi-intelligible form of an apology, and waited in hope for the requested toilet paper to slide under the partition. Eventually it came.
A single sheet of it. One sheet.
The still-trembling lad had to wait until he was sure the toilet block was empty before he could find some more paper and finish the job.
Every spring and autumn I find myself on spider watch in our house. Mrs Jim is terrified by them, despite the fact that all our UK native species are harmless. None are venomous, and none are as large as the Australian huntsman (a large but venom-free version) yet there must be something hard-coded in her makeup that causes this irrational fear.
My hypothesis, which I used to call a theory until she cured me of it, is that in autumn the spiders are finding their way in to the warmth of our house whereas in the spring they're on their way out. Whether that's the case or not, those are the seasons when spider sightings are at their peak and Mrs Jim is at her most nervous.
Yet here's what puzzles me; when we stay at the piece of scrub known as 'the block' over on her parents' farm in Australia her nervousness disappears, despite the strong possibility that redback spiders (venomous) will be somewhere nearby. As will brown snakes (venomous), black snakes (venomous) and red-bellied black snakes (very venomous, or so I'm told). Perhaps it's all in the conditioning whilst growing up. Pavlovian perhaps, or even Orwellian; two legs good, no legs good, eight legs bad. Perhaps a fear of spiders should be the collective noun?
That's about all for now. Talk to you again soon,
LJ
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Hi
Just found time to do my blog on the Cochlear Implant. Last Wednesday was a frustration day because my hubby kept phoning the hospital up to see if there was a bed! Anyway he rang at 5pm and said there was so I got to the hospital at 7pm, tags on, blood pressure checked etc.
That night I didn't really sleep, should have taken someone's advice of taking some eye masks (the ones you get on the planes!) so it was an on/off night till 6am when one of the nurses came in and said "do you want coffee/tea"... what? I said no as I rather have water knowing I wasn't allowed food or drink after midnight but they said I could have a drink without any milk.
Anyway, now she woke me up so I had a read - went through two magazines in few hours (OK and Hello!) and the consultant came in and explained the routine and said see you soon! ooooh that's scary!
The anaesthetist came (rather nice man and so was the consultant) and explained everything. As I was on my way to freshen up and clean my teeth, the porter called for me!! heck that was 8.45am - I wasn't expecting to go down that early!
So went through questionnaires - such as have I got False Teeth!? Walked to theatre and layed down on the bed and the nurse took away my hearing aids and then got hooked up with several wires and tubes and away I went...............zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Possibly around 12.15pm I woke up in the recovery room and could lipread the nurses saying "Are you in pain?" Well, for a start off course I was! Was topped up with painkillers but that made it worse as I was nausea!
Come round 2.15pm.... I just flickered my eyes opened and thought what time is it? Oh I'm still in the recovery room and asked the nurse - how long had I been here? Her reply was 3 HOURS! I asked what was the problem.............. the blood pressure was sky high!
Mr Strachan came to see me in the recovery room and said the implant operation was a success and would see me in the morning.
Anyway, after a lot of doses of drugs to keep the blood pressure down, I was finally transferred to the ward around 3.15pm and found my husband, Howard waiting! He just laughed at my new hairstyle!
I was sleeping on and off so Howard left at 4.30pm to sort the boys out!
I was still feeling nausea that evening and tried to eat some toast but it didn't work! So I just slept and the nurses kept checking me up. As I was trying to doze off and was hooked up with antibiotics at 1am!!
Next day:
What a night! I slept on and off trying to find comfort but mainly slept on my right side through the night. Nurses woke me up at 6.45am to see if I was alright and asked me for any painkillers. More blood pressure tests were taken and it was back to normal! Had my breakfast and was a lot perkier.
Mr Strachan came to see me and took the bandage off and said the wound was good and clean. He was pleased with it and said that I would have to go for my x-ray in the next couple of hours and then go home all being well.
Salim, my audiologist from YCIS came and gave me a card to prove that I have the implant in my left ear. He was happy with the operation too as he told me that he attended the theatre and made sure that the implant was working. He then said "SEE YOU IN 4 WEEKS TIME"....
My hair was in a mess, it felt that I had wallpaper paste stuck at the back of my head and it took a while to brush the "iodine" out! Howard came at 12 noon and I was still waiting to go in for the x-ray.
12.45pm, as soon as my dinner was coming into my room, the porter came in with the wheelchair for me to go to the x-ray! And I was still hooked up with more antibiotics! Anyway I had to skip the lunch and was wheeled down to the x-ray department. Had x-rays and then was taken back to the ward and had sandwiches(!)
Went back on the antibiotics drip for another half an hour and then the sister said "the x-rays was fine and you can go home"... so we left Bradford Royal Infirmary at 3.30pm and got home an hour later due to traffic in Bradford!
It was nice to come home to find the house so peaceful - no boys as they were spending the night at grandma's.
That night I slept on and off - trying to find comfort but slept better.
Saturday, went to collect the boys and they were so pleased to see me as I hadn't seen them since Wednesday at 6pm! My youngest was ever so pleased as he really was missing me a lot although teachers kept him happy. He doesn't like my scar at all, it's so neat and hardly any hair had been shaved off.
If I can find out how to upload photos onto here but I can't! grr so I'll have to add to my gallery instead!
Will keep you informed of when my "Switch on Day" is.... just got to wait for the letter from the YCIS.
I'm glad the waiting is over now and the implant is in my head. Boys have already made some jokes.... oh mummy will get stuck to pylons; radiators, ceiling fans............. very cheeky!
Cheers
Rach
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ive been with my boyfriend 2 years now and were very happy except hes in the army and in finding it very hard to cope without him , we talk of getting married in the future but i dont see how i am going to make it to that point when im fed up of waiting around already HELP!!!!!!
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hi every one i have been told to start a blog/diary and put down the things that i do from day to day i have been told that it passes the time while my hubby is away so here goes.
i could not sleep well last nite did not sleep till bout 3 so i had a bit of a lay in today bit lazy lol but never mind. i pottered around the house doing the little bits that needed doing. then i went shopping and got a few little bits for my sons xmas. came home had lunch done the wasing up. then i took curtis to the park so he could burn some of his energy off coz he is full of it he just never stops. it started to rain  so we had to come home. but on the bright side curtis has gone to sleep for a hour lol. i will be speaking to steve again 2nite i cant wait always makes me feel a bit betta. hopefully i will be able to get to sleep 2nite were i been busy all day but i will just have to wait and see wot happens. well untill 2moz bye bye
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Well since I mentioned this biefly elsewhere I thought I would explain more fully what I doing at the moment.
Earlier in the year I decided I needed a reason to try and get fitter, someone on here mentioned a charity called ASPIRE and an event they run towards the end of the year, a Channel Swim, which for me sounded great, plenty of time to forget about it and/or getting fitter.
After signing up I did as expected promptly forgot about it until early last month when a pack arrived in the post with sponsor forms and a distance converter/record card.
Since the time period for clocking up the miles has begun so has my sudden and rather frantic new exersize regime. So far in a week Ive been swimming 4 times more than I did the week before, and in that time have clocked up over 5 hours in the water with more than 5000m swum (out of a total of 35400m)
This has left me a target of another 30500m in the next 10 weeks.
Ill keep you all updated as to my progress here as I remember to but I will also be keeping a record on my justgiving page at scubaangel
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I suppose it’s a couple of months since my last update, so let’s see how things are now.
I have now been on feminising hormones for almost 3 months, and they are starting to have a noticeable effect on my figure. I have developed iddy-biddy breasts (although not even AA size yet – it’s not been long!) and a definite waistline. My bum has changed shape (so I’m told) and so, to a lesser degree, has my face. I am also noticing that my skin is becoming softer and more sensitive. I have also noticed that I have been calmer, and not as likely to fly off the handle at every little thing (ask my son – he downloaded a computer virus, and I didn’t even kick his teeth in!). I had another blood test last week and my oestrogen level has gone way up, and my testosterone has gone way down. That’s good, that’s what was expected. I’m back to see my specialist in a couple of weeks and we’ll see what his opinion is.
Just before Summer leave was my Re-Birthday Party. It was the first time that most of my colleagues had met me in female mode. The only dark shadow came when someone complained that I shouldn’t be in the British Legion bar (despite a member booking it, explaining to the Chairman what the party was for, and being signed in by another member). This person complained loud enough that we were just about to be kicked out, but thanks to a bit smooth talking from one of the guys we were allowed to stay. I must admit to being a tad annoyed by this. Isn’t the Legion meant to support soldiers – of whatever gender? Never mind, we didn’t let it get us down and a good night was had.
My family and I then took ourselves off to the Black Forest for a Summer Holiday. We stayed in park in Tennenbron. If you’re a biker, then you’d love the area. Lots of bendy roads and hills. Beautiful countryside. On the couple of sunny days we did plenty of walking – and on the dull days we did lots of walking too!
Anyway… I returned to work at the end of August. Only this time as a female. Was I nervous about walking into the HQ that morning? Well, surprisingly not. Most, if not all, of the staff knew what was coming and so were not shocked. A couple gave me a strange look when the reality struck them. Most though were fine. In no time at all they were treating me as they do any other woman in the HQ. I have noticed though that most of the females accepted me as one of them very quickly. There have been a few slip-ups in the pro-nouns, but I won’t get upset – unless it’s deliberate. Usually it’s the person who slips up who is more embarrassed than me!
I was measured up for a set of No2s a couple of months ago. I pretty much guarantee though that by the time they arrive (in 6 months time, so I’m told) I’ll have changed shape even more, and they’ll need more adjusting. The girls did plan for that they said, but we’ll see. I’ve also been measured up for Mess Dress. That’s an expensive business. Luckily the AGC Mess Dress Jacket/waistcoat is the same for females – so all that needs is just a little adapting. That’s saved me a couple of hundred quid!
It’s not only at work where I seem to have been accepted. Most of the others on the patch are happy to chat with me, and be seen with me. I drove a few of them out on a shopping trip a couple of weeks ago (girls only…) and no-one seemed fazed by me at all. I know that one of the husbands isn’t keen on me. I don’t think it’s just my change of gender, because he doesn’t seem to speak to anyone, and I am just noticing it more that he disappears if he sees me coming. Oh well, I can’t expect acceptance from everyone I suppose. I’d rather he ran away from me than turned around and punched me!
I had a trip out to the British Consulate in Dusseldorf yesterday to get my passport sorted out. It was a thrilling moment when I opened it up to see my new name, my photo and that all important ‘F’ in the sex box. It made me feel… real? I don’t know, but I was so excited to get it!
So what’s next? Well, back to London to see the specialist in a couple of weeks, and then again to London for an MoD LGBT Conference. Christmas is coming and with it the party season. Lots of posh frocks needed I think!
I have received so much support from friends and workmates, and the Chain of Command. I could not go through this fundamental change of life without support. I think at this point there are a few people who (PerSec in mind) deserve a mention for their support. My Supt Clerk, a Sgt in the next office, and my RAO. All three of these have gone to great lengths to help, support and accept me. From the beginning they have listened, made every attempt to understand and helped with the practical matters as well as being able to have a laugh about things with me. I love Army banter. I really believe that if the gentle pi$$ taking was missing, then acceptance would be harder to gain. So, to these three a special thanks.
Also there are those of you who have PM’d me, and those who have come up to me after reading my story and chatted. I’m sure I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I believe the best way to combat bigotry is through education. Yes, I am going through some weird sh1t, but the person I’m becoming is the person I always have been – it’s just that now I can stop acting, and really be me. It has made me wonder though; how many people out there are really being themselves? How many put on a front, an act, to get them through the day? It might not be as intense as the act I had to put on, but still, it makes you think…
© Legs 2007
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I suppose it’s a couple of months since my last update, so let’s see how things are now.
I have now been on feminising hormones for almost 3 months, and they are starting to have a noticeable effect on my figure. I have developed iddy-biddy breasts (although not even AA size yet – it’s not been long!) and a definite waistline. My bum has changed shape (so I’m told) and so, to a lesser degree, has my face. I am also noticing that my skin is becoming softer and more sensitive. I have also noticed that I have been calmer, and not as likely to fly off the handle at every little thing (ask my son – he downloaded a computer virus, and I didn’t even kick his teeth in!). I had another blood test last week and my oestrogen level has gone way up, and my testosterone has gone way down. That’s good, that’s what was expected. I’m back to see my specialist in a couple of weeks and we’ll see what his opinion is.
Just before Summer leave was my Re-Birthday Party. It was the first time that most of my colleagues had met me in female mode. The only dark shadow came when someone complained that I shouldn’t be in the British Legion bar (despite a member booking it, explaining to the Chairman what the party was for, and being signed in by another member). This person complained loud enough that we were just about to be kicked out, but thanks to a bit smooth talking from one of the guys we were allowed to stay. I must admit to being a tad annoyed by this. Isn’t the Legion meant to support soldiers – of whatever gender? Never mind, we didn’t let it get us down and a good night was had.
My family and I then took ourselves off to the Black Forest for a Summer Holiday. We stayed in park in Tennenbron. If you’re a biker, then you’d love the area. Lots of bendy roads and hills. Beautiful countryside. On the couple of sunny days we did plenty of walking – and on the dull days we did lots of walking too!
Anyway… I returned to work at the end of August. Only this time as a female. Was I nervous about walking into the HQ that morning? Well, surprisingly not. Most, if not all, of the staff knew what was coming and so were not shocked. A couple gave me a strange look when the reality struck them. Most though were fine. In no time at all they were treating me as they do any other woman in the HQ. I have noticed though that most of the females accepted me as one of them very quickly. There have been a few slip-ups in the pro-nouns, but I won’t get upset – unless it’s deliberate. Usually it’s the person who slips up who is more embarrassed than me!
I was measured up for a set of No2s a couple of months ago. I pretty much guarantee though that by the time they arrive (in 6 months time, so I’m told) I’ll have changed shape even more, and they’ll need more adjusting. The girls did plan for that they said, but we’ll see. I’ve also been measured up for Mess Dress. That’s an expensive business. Luckily the AGC Mess Dress Jacket/waistcoat is the same for females – so all that needs is just a little adapting. That’s saved me a couple of hundred quid!
It’s not only at work where I seem to have been accepted. Most of the others on the patch are happy to chat with me, and be seen with me. I drove a few of them out on a shopping trip a couple of weeks ago (girls only…) and no-one seemed fazed by me at all. I know that one of the husbands isn’t keen on me. I don’t think it’s just my change of gender, because he doesn’t seem to speak to anyone, and I am just noticing it more that he disappears if he sees me coming. Oh well, I can’t expect acceptance from everyone I suppose. I’d rather he ran away from me than turned around and punched me!
I had a trip out to the British Consulate in Dusseldorf yesterday to get my passport sorted out. It was a thrilling moment when I opened it up to see my new name, my photo and that all important ‘F’ in the sex box. It made me feel… real? I don’t know, but I was so excited to get it!
So what’s next? Well, back to London to see the specialist in a couple of weeks, and then again to London for an MoD LGBT Conference. Christmas is coming and with it the party season. Lots of posh frocks needed I think!
I have received so much support from friends and workmates, and the Chain of Command. I could not go through this fundamental change of life without support. I think at this point there are a few people who (PerSec in mind) deserve a mention for their support. My Supt Clerk, a Sgt in the next office, and my RAO. All three of these have gone to great lengths to help, support and accept me. From the beginning they have listened, made every attempt to understand and helped with the practical matters as well as being able to have a laugh about things with me. I love Army banter. I really believe that if the gentle pi$$ taking was missing, then acceptance would be harder to gain. So, to these three a special thanks.
Also there are those of you who have PM’d me, and those who have come up to me after reading my story and chatted. I’m sure I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I believe the best way to combat bigotry is through education. Yes, I am going through some weird sh1t, but the person I’m becoming is the person I always have been – it’s just that now I can stop acting, and really be me. It has made me wonder though; how many people out there are really being themselves? How many put on a front, an act, to get them through the day? It might not be as intense as the act I had to put on, but still, it makes you think…
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Update 20 September 2007
I once again made another trip to YCIS this afternoon. First went to the ward and had few tests - think I must loose some weight (only joking!) and answered few questions.
Next went to see the surgeon Mr Strachan and I asked him a few questions as I wanted to know which ear he was going to operate. That was a difficult one because at the last hearing test last week was 1% in my right ear and 3% in the left ear (that's to hear from the TV without any pictures!) so have a little discussion, its been decided to do on my left ear!
At the SAME time, I was being FILMED.............. Hollywood here I come! Nah, the YCIS is trying to promote for other people and business/donators as YCIS is trying to build a new Ear Life Trust Centre and also another film for parents/patients what to expect with the Cochlear Implant. My husband was being filmed too so it was a rather interesting afternoon.
So I'll be admitting on the 17th October instead of 18th at 7.30am - too much for me to run around and sort the boys out on the day so I rather relax the night before (huh?) and Mr Strachan will do the op on the 18th - have been told it would be between 1½ and 3 hours. I will be staying overnight again till the 19th when I will have an xray to see if the implant is in the right place and if I'm all well especially after the anthesatic (spell) as I'm rather nausea with it I can go home in the afternoon!
All I have to do now is attend my local doc next Thurs for the flu jab (as part of the op) and then wait till 17th October!! I'm not nervous yet but I'm aiming to get it done and over with as I've really wanted my hearing back to normal.
Then I will go back sometime in November - that's when the hard work kicks in with new unfamiliar sounds and got to learn them again so I'll let you know when my "switch on" date is.
I'm glad I have been on all these fun rides this summer as next year I'm not allowed to go on these rides as it can shake your head and cause damage to the implant to be out of its place.
I have to carry an ID card wherever I go shopping as I may set the security banners off so I'll be treated as same as those who have pacemakers even in the airports.
I'm really chuffed to get this far since I suffered tinnitus last November and was amazed on how quickly I could have this instead of waiting and waiting.
I may (if!) do the 10km runs next year when I get fit again and raise as much as I can for the Ear Trust as it is not cheap to have this. I know it's around £15,000 for the Implant (no don't faint!) So i want to do something back for them.
Roll on 17th October and I'll promise to post some photos to this group after the op and you can have a laugh at my new turban! 
Yorkie
p.s. I've already written to Santa for an IPOD!
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Hello, and welcome to my blog (or welcome back if you're a regular visitor). I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
I begin this latest chapter with some good news. My recently-married son is well on the way to making a complete recovery following some fairly straightforward surgery which, although presenting no great risk to him, still caused me more anxiety than was good for my blood pressure. I suppose the practice of worrying pointlessly about things over which you have no control is just part of being a parent. Still, it's all done with now and he's back at work, albeit very gingerly.
Jim Junior's good news continues with his and his new wife's successful move into their married quarters, which will save them quite a lot of money as their previous rented accommodation was very expensive for what it was. And just to top it off his current posting has been extended, giving them a little additional stability and me the welcome reassurance that he won't be going to Afghanistan in the near future. (Apologies to anyone out there, or with friends or family out there; I'm not gloating about it, just relieved.) All in all it's not been a bad couple of weeks here at Lucky Towers.
Last week Mrs. Jim and I set out on our annual trip to the highlands of Scotland. The journey apart it was as tranquil and relaxing as ever, and for once we even had a few days of sunshine. The summit of Schiehallion, usually wreathed in a mantle of cloud, could clearly be seen for four out of the seven days - a record number in all our years of highland holidays. Whilst there I read 'Barefoot Soldier', Johnson Beharry VC's excellent ghost-written book which, somewhat to my surprise, Mrs. Jim is currently enjoying greatly. The part where he explains how he maintained the tracks on a Warrior left her eyes a tad glazed over, but otherwise she's engrossed in it.
On our way back we decided to break the seven hour drive with an overnight stay in the Lake District. Not having pre-booked anywhere we trusted to luck and turned off the M6 at Penrith, looking out for a suitable pub, B & B, or hotel. Driving down the western shore of Ullswater we came across an impressive-looking country house hotel set in its own grounds, with fantastic uninterrupted views of the lake and the majestic hills beyond. All the external signs were good so we went inside to ask whether a room was available; by coincidence a late cancellation earlier that day meant that one was.
What a piece of good fortune that cancellation turned out to be for us. The room was all right, although nothing to shout about, but the food... Oh, my word!
It was just about the finest I can remember eating. Splendid surroundings, artfully decorated and subtly lit, topped off one of our most memorable dining experiences anywhere. Not so pleasing was the eye-watering bill the day after, but then again you get what you pay for.
Some time ago we went to see Dara O'Briain, in my opinion one of the funniest stand-up comedians on the circuit today. Today I've booked tickets to see Russell Howard (the blond-haired one on 'Mock the Week' who has to put up with being on the same team as the depressingly unfunny Andy Parsons) and, in a separate performance, Jimmy Carr. I'm hoping that their acts will bring a little light into the dark November nights. This summer has been so spectacularly bad here in the hills that we're really not looking forward to the long months stretching out in front of us.
Mentioning Dara O'Briain has diverted my train of thought down a little-used siding and, in doing so, has helped me resolve a question.
It's about the Welsh language.
Now let me say straight away that I would never maliciously make fun of the Welsh, Gallic, Gaelic, Cornish, Manx or any other language that might exist or have existed in these isles. Well, unless you count that dialect of English we call chav-speak innit? No, on the contrary, I have a lot of respect for them. I love the richness they bring to our shared culture and the way that dialects and accents can change quite markedly after travelling only a very short distance. Multiculturalism? We've had it here for centuries.
But I have to say that Welsh uses fewer vowels than any language I can think of, and I've never been able to work out why. Until now.
My solution has its roots in the story of St Patrick who, as you know, wasn't born in Ireland but Wales. Irish raiders abducted him and took him back with them to Ireland where, amongst other things, he solved their snake problems and became a saint.
What isn't as well documented is the fact that the raiders also made off with half the Welsh vowels, using them to change Irish names like Rory into Ruaridh, O'Brien to O'Briain, Dermot to Diarmuid, and Dunleary to Dun Laoghaire.
The Welsh were furious, or as they would say, ffrochwyllt. But there was nothing they could do to get back their missing vowels and it's been like that ever since.
I'll end this chapter with a story that I think says something about modern society, although I'm not sure exactly what.
A couple of years ago Mrs Jim and a couple of her work colleagues took a group of 'challenging' teenagers from a tough north Manchester council estate on an Outward Bound course. In Wales, coincidentally, but as that has no bearing on the story I won't mention it again.
Anyway like the mug - sorry, generous soul - I am, I took a weeks leave and tagged along as an unpaid volunteer. One night we were all camping in a remote field, firing up a makeshift barbecue whilst the teenagers (all boys) tried hard not to think about the absence of drugs and sex. A delivery of buns, burgers and sausages had just arrived from the Outward Bound centre but Mrs Jim and I declined the offer of a burger, saying that we preferred the home made variety. (OB burgers, you should know, are made entirely from recycled bathroom carpet. Piss stains and all.)
'Home made burgers?' asked one lad.
Mrs Jim replied; 'That's right Dwayne, home made burgers.'
A look of puzzlement spread over the young lad's face, like a remote Amazonian tribesman being shown a trick by a close-up magician. Then, slowly, his face lit up in a huge beaming smile as he cracked the puzzle. Triumphantly he said;
'Oh, I get it. You buy them from Iceland and cook them at home, right?'
It had been a long day and there were more long days to come, which is why Mrs Jim cut short the debate by saying;
'Yes Dwayne. We cook them at home.'
Talk to you again soon.
Take care,
LJ
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