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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

So many secrets
1:51 p.m. -- 2010-04-08

It's difficult, blogging while not revealing information about yourself. Nowadays everybody knows to conceal their personal information with care when online, right?

Even moreso when you're blogging about your experiences as an occasional transvestite with no particular desire to be 'outed'. Add into the mix and ongoing, active opposition to a billion-dollar crime syndicate called the 'Church of $ci�nto�og�'... an organization that views the LGBT community as "degraded beings" who should be "disposed of quietly and without sorrow"... and you have a great recipe for near-paranoid secrecy. (Though I doubt I'm about to be killed for being a tranny, it does provide a handy means to "ruin me utterly", as L R0n Hu88ard taught his drones to do.) And if you don't believe that the cult stalks its critics, Google: "operation freakout".

So...

I might have told you about the sweet little boutique hotel where Victoria and I had an Easter mini-break. I'd recommend it to a friend... except that this tiny little hotel only had three couples staying there, so if I were to name it, I may struggle to remain anonymous in the future.

I might have enthused about the antique [thing or things] that Victoria bought for a song on eBay. A really great find... but sufficiently rare that any mention of what that said thing is (or things are) leaves a large signpost in cyberspace that points at my dear wife.

I might have told you about a concert that we went to... but too many revelations of that kind would reveal which city or cities we live near to.

I might have told you about a qualification that Victoria and I were awarded, as a result of [something that we study together], but the details would correspond too readily with a real-world list... so I won't.

This might all sound like paranoid lunacy, but I'm just being cautious. Plus I've managed to get a blog entry out of it - which was the general idea, after all - without waving a big sign that says "MFV lives in Nempnet Thrubwell!"

(Incidentally, Nempnet Thrubwell is a real place: just west of Bath... but I don't live there. Something about a place name like that suggests that they have absolutely cracking orgies there... I suppose we'll never know. Ah, well.)

What does my internal, ever-vigilant censor permit me to say? That we had a great bank holiday weekend. Lots of fun, lots of love and some virtuous hard work, too.

Now... to learn how to care for and restore antique [things].

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