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� In this diary, I record my life as a transvestite. Perhaps it will help somebody else, who finds their lifestyle doesn't quite match that endorsed by the 'tranny mafia'. Well, I've been there... and survived. The debriefing starts here.

�loves: All kinds of stuff that society thinks I shouldn't.

�hates: Microsoft. Obviously.

�reads:
secret-motel
artgnome
enfinblue
stepfordtart
ten-oclock
boombasticat
lawliiet
annanotbob
fifidellabon
my-serenade

Lynn Jones
Becky
Samantha

Board, board, board...
12:07 p.m. -- 2009-05-25

Busy, busy...

Which is the best way to be, I suppose. Particularly when working for yourself, rather than some employer. Yesterday was mostly about decorating.

At MFV Towers, it was an extreme form of decorating that involved putting up a timber framework, adding insulation and plastic sheeting, and then covering everything with plasterboard. Two years after we moved in, we're just getting around to finishing the walls...

They say that Rome wasn't built in a day. If I'd been the chief engineer on the project, the Colosseum would probably still be an oval marked out in chalk, with the words "arena goes here". Or, for historical accuracy... pulvis goes hic (?)

While I juggled plasterboard, a material best known for its fragility and ability to generate vast quantities of dust when being cut, Victoria was painting at her old house. Yes, she still owns the place and no, she doesn't have a tenant. I think it's best when we work at different locations, so we don't keep interrupting work for sex. There's just something irresistible about Vicky in old clothes and looking a little bit dishevelled. I love the manager who wears a smart business suit and drives off to work in her company car every morning... but what I really lust after is the paint-speckled urchin. I can't explain it.

I took a picnic round to Vicky's old place, and we ate in the field, among the cows. Such is life in the countryside! Then I joined in the painting task. I do the edges while she paints... well, herself mostly. She's dangerous with a roller.

When we'd had enough of decorating we went home and started a film. We were going to drink Champagne to celebrate me getting a job, but after my recent bad fortunes, I'll feel a lot better celebrating seeing a signed contract in my hand. (Or better yet, seeing some happier numbers on my bank statements!) So I had beer, she had wine, and we watched 'Gladiator' (which may have prompted my Roman musings). To be accurate, we started it, and only finished this morning. We were too tired to watch the whole thing.

And at the end, we both needed a tissue. Even though it might be the fourth time we've watched it, the ending of that film still hits home. What a masterpiece! Fortunately, Vicky doesn't seem to mind an occasional tear from me. Not that tears are inherently girly, but... there's a certain gender bias in what is considered acceptable.

Afterwards we had breakfast in the garden, which prompted a brief spurt of gardening activity from me. Can I call it gardening if it involves nothing more than yanking up weeds and dropping them in the compost bin? I don't exactly nurture things. Rather, I hazard a guess at what belongs and what doesn't, and do my sporadic best to eliminate the latter. It's a battle I am losing.

Back inside the house, I resume the battle I am more likely to win, putting up plasterboard. And after a particularly awkward piece (irregular pentagon, would you believe?) I awarded myself a cup of tea, too many biscuits and a quick trawl of my favourite blogs. Like I said, it's best when Vicky and I work at different locations...

Hope you're enjoying your bank holiday (fellow Brits) or having a good day at work (everyone else).

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