Out and about again. Annie's and Woodstock

 So what's a girl to do when she's left unsupervised and on her own for a few days? One answer is she starts checking her bucket list of Things To Do, dons a pair of (suitably padded) Big Girl Pants and goes into Dora the Explorer mode. (The other is that she leaves the bedroom in a state of complete chaos by pulling everything out of the wardrobe at once.)

One of those items was to have tea (or coffee) in a nice tea room. There's Costa's in the High Street, but it's hardly a scenic view staring at the Co-op across the road. And then there's Annie's Tea Rooms, by the canal lock and mooring in Thrupp, a mile or so up the canal. (Although by the time I got there, in this heat, it felt a lot longer.)

Which is possibly where I may have been read for the second (and possibly not the last) time that day, having already come face to face with a neighbour from across the road just moments after leaving the house. (And me in a nice new frock.)

After giving my order (and blanching a bit at the price list - four quid for a coffee?) I went to sit outside in the garden, and after a few minutes the lady who took my order came straight to my table saying "It's OK, I recognised you straight away"). Or maybe it was just that I was the only person wearing a dress - every other woman seemed to have opted for more sensible shorts or cut-offs and t-shirts in the summer heat. 

canal side library, with an 'honesty  box' in the middle between the shelves.

After which I decided I might walk back down the footpath along the Cherwell towards home. It was at this point Dora the Explorer took over when I saw a side path I hadn't ever been down and decided to follow it and see where it went. Which turned out to be not very far before I lost the trail (although when I emerged into a field I could see the spire of St Mary's in the distance.) There was also this curious little structure off to one side of the path. I've no idea what it was. It looks too solidly build for a birder's hide, and a bit out the way as a lone defence against the Germans invading Thrupp by sailing up the Oxford canal.

This was where things started to get strange. I had just backtracked to where I diverted off the path when a bloke with a dog asked if I was lost. I explained I had been but wasn't now since I knew where I was. And then he started asking me more questions, about who I was, where I'd come from where I lived and where I was going. This was starting to get a bit weird and uncomfortable, when two more women came along the path from Annie's, followed by another man and a dog. The first bloke then told me he was a policeman (as was other bloke who'd just arrived) and they'd had reports of a man exposing himself to people somewhere along the footpath. In the end I agreed it might be safer it I went back the way I came rather than carry on down the path, so I went back towards Annie's and the canal and rather than face the long walk back I hopped a bus home. I didn't wait to see what the other two women decided but as far as I could tell they didn't seem to come in for the same load of questions I did. So again, maybe it was just that I was coming from an odd direction off the main path. But you can get a little paranoid when you're standing there in a new frock being subjected to Twenty Questions by a bloke you never seen before.

No such problems the next day (Wednesday) when I decided on a whim to take a bus into Woodstock and explore the town and the grounds of Blenheim Palace. I knew there was a 'free gate' into the grounds just opposite the Black Prince. Despite the fact that the bus to work takes me though Woodstock every morning, I think I've only been there twice before, the last time when we went for a curry with friends. And this would be the first time as Susie.

 

Blenheim Place, showing all the modesty you might expect from someone who has erected a giant phallic symbol where he can gaze at it from his breakfast table.

After a couple of hours of wandering around it was starting to get a bit too hot, so I went back out to explore a bit of the town.

Opposite the free gate is Woodstock Water Meadows (more than slightly overgrown). And of course, she almost immediately finds another bridge to pose against.

Then a steep climb back into Woodstock proper, and a look around a couple of charity shops, a nice dress shop with a sale, and the Oxford Museum where I coveted a lovely Victorian dress (sadly behind glass) and had a far more reasonably priced coffee in the cafe garden.

And home again on the bus (although I do wish the lady I was chatting to at the bus stop had discreetly pointed out my eyeliner had run giving me a pair of noticeable panda eyes. I need to pack a small mirror next time.)

Quick fashion update. I saw these leggings (actually jogging bottoms) a couple of weeks back and couldn't resist.

Book sales, Bucket Lists, Bunnies and unicorns

 It's been another year so it's probably time for the obligatory 'girl on a bridge' shot. I took the first of these pictures on the same bridge back in 2021 (A Bridge Too Far - 4 July 2021)  and have kept it up on a semi-regular basis ever since, although the bridges sometimes change almost as often as the hairstyle.

(Also, who am I kidding with the 'girl' bit. I never got to experience being a girl, except in the confines of my own head, as Susie arrived - after a lot of missteps, denials, recriminations, purges and inevitable relapses - in 2015, when I was already in my late 50s. (Susie, of course, has shaved a few years off this, though it hasn't stopped her taking advantage of my bus pass.)

Another weekend to myself at the end of June while my partner is away, which means Susie can come out to play (this side of me is not something we can discuss, let alone share). 

Unfortunately, I had already committed to helping out at behind the book sale table at the village church sale on Saturday morning, so that put paid to spending time as Susie. While the local church is LGBT friendly, they don't know about Susie, and it might have come as a bit of an eye opener. (Being able to do one of these events as Susie is still on my bucket-list of wishes, though if it ever happens it'll need some delicate prep  and sounding out in advance, along the same lines as arranging to take part in this year's Witney Pride parade with my workplace colleagues as Susie.)

However I did get a couple of hours to get ready and go out for an early walk before I had to return home  and change back into male drab to help with the sale, although I offset the drab somewhat by wearing a Pride t-shirt. (A couple of customers had Pride pins or stickers on their coats or bags, so that was nice to see.)

By the time the sale had finished and we'd packed everything up and cleared it away, followed by a quick weekend shop, it was well into mid afternoon and getting a bit late to get ready and go out again, so I spent the rest of the day indoors or pottering round in the back garden as Susie. 

Another morning walk next day, back though the nature reserve at the bottom of the village and back up along the canal, in the course of which I encountered a couple of lost and bedraggled animals.

      

The poor sad-looking bunny looked like it had been fished out of the canal and sat there to dry off in the hope it might be reclaimed, though if it had fallen off a boat it might be some time before they come back. 

I have no idea what the fluffy moomin unicorn is supposed to be but I hope it gets reunited with whoever lost it.

I had hoped to put another dent in Susie's bucket list by visiting Annie's Tea Room at the top of the canal in the afternoon, but after the warm sunshine of the day before, Sunday afternoon's weather turned out to be more typical of a British summer in that it was dull, overcast and chilly. And then the neighbours across the road decided to spend the afternoon doing up their garage door, which made leaving the house en-femme a bit problematic, so I had to put off that idea for another time when the prospect of sitting outside with a book, coffee and cake might be more attractive. 

 

x

S

Canal dreams, passing and (apparently) passing.

The now obligatory annual shot of Susie looking out from a canal bridge. 

This time though, a different bridge and different hair. 

Perhaps I should think about renaming this blog 'Girl on a Bridge'. It does seems to be a recurrent theme.

One thing I've noticed is that even if I think I have overdone the makeup for someone just going out for a early morning walk, it almost never shows up on camera. I really can't decide whether that's a good or bad thing in the balance between the 'less is more' advice after a certain age, and being able to see my male self coming through a bit too obviously. Or maybe that's just me being hypercritical. Later on the same day when I went out again I walked right past one of the church ladies I often chat with. and sometimes walk part of the way home with. while she was waiting outside for a bus, and there was not a flicker of recognition as I passed her. Either that or she was being very, very discreet. Maybe we shall find out next week. Indeed I've often thought how lovely it would be to be accepted as Susie at the weekly coffee mornings.

xx

Back to the Bridge

Same place, same bridge, and almost the same outfit - not quite almost eight months on.

Last time I was here I had just got a long floaty skirt. This time it's a different one, which I thought also deserved a first outing. 

I like this place. It's peaceful and quiet - or is at the moment, until they start building a huge football stadium right in the middle of it. And I do like this rickety old wooden bridge.

It started misty earlier in the morning, but had cleared up by the time I'd done a bottle bank run and a quick detour though Sainsburys where I tried on a pair of trainers (too tight for comfort, even in 8 - but see later). Sainsburys now seems to have a far more expansive cosmetics counter than I remember.

Then across to the the nature reserve and a slightly circuitous route to the canal bridge (OK, I got slightly lost and ended up going in a complete circle) and a walk back along the towpath.

In all it turned out I'd been out just shy of a couple of hours by the time I got back which is, shamefully, probably the longest I've walked in a over a fortnight.

This was new - the  'Jubilee Grove'. 

Not so sure about the poem though. It seems to be the sort of thing people write when they're tying to be deliberately poetic. But then, I'm a Modernist. What would I know?

The cows were new too, in a fenced off area to one side of the path, all wearing fetching yellow numbered earrings.  

A couple more views along the towpath on the way back. Almost nobody about at that time except a pair of ducks and couple of people steering a narrowboat under a bridge.

 

I've seen this pair of trainers in the charity shop for a few weeks now and so far  resisted, but this morning the allure of a pair of girly trainers in sparkly silver proved harder to resist, although I probably need to be careful that they don't shed glitter all over the carpet that could prove hard to explain. (Harder than why the closet is filled with skirts and dresses, none of which are in L's size?)

Time was..

Getting out and about: Belonging and blending in.

Several t-girls, including Lynn and Hannah have written about passing - or more probably not exactly passing, but at least being taken for the way you choose to present when out and about.

“You’re good girl. You’re a good tall girl. You’re a good sturdy girl” (Self Esteem, “I Do This All the Time”)

While the above quote may seem a bit of a back-handed compliment to a self-conscious cis-girl, I suspect quite a few of us would gladly take it as an affirmation.)

At a bit over 6 ft I realise that I am unlikely to pass unnoticed, especially in the street or in shops. There’s little you can do about that, except avoid adding to the problem by wearing heels. (I tend not to and elect for flats when I’m out, and on the basis that if I look at what other women are wearing it also tend to be flats, trainers or low-heeled boots. And the few times I’ve been out in even low (one inch) heels I became acutely conscious of the sound of my steps on the pavement, even if heels do force you into taking smaller steps in a more feminine gait - something which you have to remember and concentrate on when walking in flats .It’s a bit of a trade-off, especially for us girls of height.

What’s the answer? Perhaps to slouch a bit to try and minimise your height? Absolutely not. Don’t. Again, take note of other women around you and how they hold themselves. Men often hunch or slouch, usually leading their walk from the upper body or shoulders. Women, with a different weight distribution and centre of gravity, walk from the pelvis with their shoulders straight, and lead with the foot first. It takes conscious practice and it’s often easy to forget, especially if you get to the comfortable point of no longer thinking about how you are dressed and start to fall back into more male mannerisms. (My default look these days tends to be skinny jeans or leggings and a sweater, partly for comfort and partly for anonymity and  not to stand out, although there will always be those occasions when you see someone wearing something particularly stylish and think “I wish…”)

“Confidence is a preference” (Blur, ‘Park Life’)

As Stana, Kandi and many others have said when touching on this topic, the main key to not drawing the wrong attention to yourself is to act as if you belong – “nothing to see here-  just another woman going about her business - glance away and carry on.” Getting to that point does take a bit of confidence. I gradually build mine starting with greetings exchanges with early morning joggers and dog walkers in parks or the local nature reserves (again, a reason not to conspicuously over or underdress unless you want to try pulling a 4 in stiletto out of the grass or a muddy path).

 Initially I would try and limit those encounters to a brief “Good morning” to older women out walking their dogs As confidence grew that people seemed happy to take me as I presented I gradually expanded those encounters to the point where a man walking his dog greeted me as “love” and I treasured that for the rest of the day. At point I felt confident enough to take Susie into indoor spaces: a small art exhibition in a village hall, an afternoon at church sale, browsing in charity shops or the sale racks in Sainsburys, or a quick drop in the library.

Actually my first excursion into a public space was my first appearance (and so far only, but more to do with the lack of places to change in central Oxford) as Susie at a meeting of the local trans support group in the upstairs room of a pub in central Oxford. Both scary and exhilarating – especially that first walk along the High Street to the venue, but the reception was worth the first night nerves.

Which brings me to another point. Safety. My first tentative ventures outside were alone and at night. I really don’t recommend this. It can be very scary. Remember how you might look to others and don’t put yourself into unsafe places or situations. (Although I can guarantee that after the first time you feel you are being followed with your keys gripped tightly in one hand you will have a much starker idea of what most women have to deal with every day. You won’t forget that easily) Then there’s the additional issue that if you are identified as trans or a cross-dresser out alone you may make yourself even more subject to abuse or attack.  As a first timer you may think that you may be less likely to be ‘read’ after dark, but it’s not worth the danger. Just don’t. If you really have no other option, make sure there is someone with you.

After that experience I swapped late walks for morning ones. Early enough that I could leave and usually return before the neighbours were up and about, though sometimes a little touch and go on the return, but not so early that it wouldn’t yet be light and that there wouldn’t be a few people around (at bus stops, jogging, or taking dogs for an early walk).

Building confidence in being out is still a work in progress. I would still like to visit a proper tea room rather than a supermarket café, or go shopping in town or visit a museum, and I would love be able go out with a trusted friend (male or female) maybe for a drink or a meal. 

xxx