A good start to the New Year – partying down in Cambridge and meeting with some of the folk from C4’s “My Transsexual Summer”. Well: that’s my excuse as to why I am a few hours late in re-starting this blog after its short equinoctial hiatus (er, in English: that’s my xmas break🙂 ).
Started the evening having fun picking out what to wear and then – frustratedly – discovering that lash fixer seems to go the way of biros, paperclips and, er, eyelashes. I mean: i get thru enough lashes in a year…so how come i cannot lay my hand on a single vial of the latex stuff. Grrr!
Boys in Blue
That apart, i set off for cambridge in high spirits, only marginally dampened by a brief encounter with the Force just outside that city. Yep: twas Cambridge’s finest; their boys in blue, who were waving cars down to wish them a Happy New Year. Or something of the kind.
And then, if you didn’t tick all the right boxes, they would ask you to step out of the car and “blow into this tube”.
I didn’t tick all the right boxes. I was chewing gum (for breath, rather than any nefarious purposes, but apparently this is a “tell”). My eyes were “glazed”.
Huh! Possibly. On account of my poking myself with a hairbrush earlier in the evening (don’t ask!). And i failed to give an exact answer when asked if i had had anything to drink.
What? I said “Not that i am aware of”, which to my own literal way of thinking is both precise and polite. I’d certainly defy ANYONE, in an existential sort of way, to claim absolute knowledge of what was inside their body at any given moment in time.
However, in the mind of this Cambridge Blue, it was suspect…so out i got and yay! I blew a big fat zero on his little box.
(Andrea suggests – more than half seriously – that he should then have given me a sticker, a bit like a Blue Peter badge, to commemorate this achievement. I shall write and suggest…)
Had i more time, i might have made something of it. Whether or not the police SHOULD have the right to stop and breathtest on demand is an intersting question: the point, however, is that parliament has definitely NOT granted them those poers. Yet this approach is near as damnit just that. Because if i’d not stopped when they waved…i’d have been acting “suspiciously”…even though they had no right to stop me without any cause.
Slinky, Minky and the MTS bunch
Still. I survived, and on to the Club – Slinky Minky’s, not far off the centre of Cambridge, which describes itself as one of East Anglia’s most fun lesbian and gay venues. It was, in its way.
Nowhere near as big or brash as Pink Punters, over in Milton Keynes (and without the multi-level separation). But it was friendly, inclusive and not (as some clubs in, say, Manchester’s Canal St area) obsessed with whether you are Lesbian OR Gay OR trans – or even whether you are the right “species” of lesbian: butch, femme, etc….
Twas definitely fun to meet up with some of the MTS crowd: present were Donna, Drew, Lewis, Karen and Sarah. I’d been looking forward especially to meeting those last two for a while…but sadly the structure of the event made conversation nigh on impossible.. Inside was too loud: outside was a constant stream of clubbers wanting to have their pic taken alongside the stars. Good stuff: but not conducive to chat.
Still, we swapped a sentence or two: Karen’s hair (now a dark brown as opposed to its previous blonde) looks great: Sarah, too, seems to have toned down. And Donna danced wonderfully.
As always, though, it was the in-between people who made my night. A slightly drunk guy who congratulated me for being out and asked me if i “did this all the time”. I had to smile. Would: “no…at the weekend i put on a suit and go to men’s clubs” have been a bit cheeky? I hope not, because in the end, pretty much everyone i met was absolutely lovely.
A special thanks to the delightful Kate (and not as one of her acquaintances informed me, Kay): early on, i was sat round looking ever so slightly out of things (actually, just waiting for things to kick off). They took pity and drew me in. OK: they FORCED me to dance, which as everyone knows, i absolutely hate. 🙂
The funny thing – and this says loads about “making assumptions”: one reason i hadn’t chatted to her at the outset was…i had looked across to her table and pegged her at almost twenty years younger than it turns out she is/was. Whatever she is on…i want some.
Still, it is a habit i have noticed lately. I love spending time with my daughter and her friends. But perversely, the more grown-up they get, the more i ever-so-slightly distance myself from their generation. Its not that i am old and past it: just that i feel ever so slightly as though i am imposing.
Perhaps i should examine that in the New Year.
OMG! Resolutions. SHould i now make some…or is the wisest course to resolve just to carry on carrying on, without the false promise offered by making promises to oneself that are impossible to keep?
jane (well and truly raring to go for 2012!)