Eolwaen

Eolwaen

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Eolwaen
(Yol-way-en)

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Includes Biography and a rather haphazard infrequent blog, now ordered with most recent entry first

The Biography is at the end and is dated 07/09/2019
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A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 48 Acquisitions Introductions and Interventions

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 48 Acquisitions Introductions and Interventions

After interviewing three potential pharmacists Murray was beginning to lose hope. All three had been male and chauvinists, pigs to boot probably too, he’d said cynically to himself. He’d just one more to go, Lennox MacUspaig, a name he’d never heard of. He was hoping that at the very least he didn’t have to deal with yet another MCP, but he doubted anything would come it. Twenty-nine years old, single and with a CV which was to say the least sparce. Murray was stunned when an attractive young woman came in to shake his hand. She saw the look on his face and asked, “You expected a man?”

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 47 Increasing Independence

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 47 Increasing Independence

“That story Angus prised out of her concerning that Landrace boar her grandfather gave her as a piglet when she was what? six or seven was priceless! And her mum’s reaction when her lurcher pup her dad gave her just kept growing when she’d thought it to be a Jack Russell was out of this world priceless. That she raised the pig to killing weight, had it follow a bucket of feed to the slaughterhouse and insisted on watching every detail of its slaughter and butchering and being given explanations of what was being done and why was remarkable enough. But to cap it all that she helped process the blood, the head meat, the offal and all the bits and pieces was, I considered, amazing. When she said it had had a good life, but she’d raised it to eat and didn’t like her bacon so fresh that it could bite back, so it had to die, I had to struggle to avoid laughing, because she was absolutely serious about it. When she said that her next piglet, a gilt [an unmated sow], was given to her by the slaughterman, who is shortly to become her grandfather in law, so she could see the differences between sows processed for pork and boars processed for cured meat due to the testosterone boar taint I couldn’t help but laugh. Then when she said Grandad Vince the Mince obtained a barrow [a castrated boar] for her to raise to finally to complete the picture, which she then killed and butchered herself at the slaughterhouse. I had to look away because I’d tears of laughter in my eyes.

The Silent Ghost

The Silent Ghost

Trygg was an irritation to many of his teachers. He wouldn’t engage with any he didn’t wish to, and because of the injunction against the Ed Psychs they were not able to discover what his ‘problems’ and ‘special educational needs’ were. It would have been an impossible step for them to take to realise that they were his problems and his special educational needs were merely to be left alone so as not to distract him from soaking up information.

Lost and Found

Lost and Found

“At your age how do you avoid the social services and the schools people?”

“Mostly by hanging with adults, like you. If they see me with a grown up they go to bother someone else. That woman over there is one of them. That’s why I decided to talk to you.”

“How did you know I was safe? I could have been a child molester or anything.”

“Naw. I’m good at weighing people up. You’re a veteran with PTSD. I’ve met hundreds like you on the streets. Nice men who gave everything they had to the government and then got threwn away on the garbage heap.”

The Cat is Out of the Bag

The Cat is Out of the Bag

Evelyn had always been considered a male name that only recently had been given to a few girls, and given that at twelve Evelyn was almost as big as Morpeth it was no surprise that despite claiming to be a girl she too was believed to be trans.

All Changes yet Remains the Same

All Changes yet Remains the Same

I’m Hermione Clearwater and I’m about nineteen maybe twenty. I have an IQ that’s off the scale and a drop dead gorgeous body most women with give all they have to possess and all men would give even more to possess my body too, which can be seriously inconvenient.

George Georgina Gina

George Georgina Gina

The newcomer to the area who’d moved into one of the small apartment flats, many of which were shared by pairs of students, was known to go by the name of George. George was five feet three, narrow shouldered to point of being puny and had short hair. Despite androgynous looks, George was naturally enough assumed at college to be male. That was till in an over heard conversation between some one who clearly had known George for somewhat longer than most George had been referred to as Gina and without being surprised had answered to the name. George or Gina had few friends and other than in class did not engage with others. However, eventually when asked about the two names by a classmate before the lecture started she’d said, “My name is Georgina. I get called George, Georgy and Gina.” That was all she said not engaging in further conversation before the class commenced and leaving immediately it ended.

Georgina at first was considered to be physically immature and flat chested due to the heavy, woollen sweaters and the heavy, fur trimmed, hooded coat she wore even in class during the particularly cold weather when she’d started college. However, on a warm, sunny day she had removed her coat before she entered the class room. She was not wearing a sweater and her figure hugging top meant all could see she was a well proportioned young woman with a feminine figure. One of the boys whispered to a friend as she entered the lecture theatre, “Damn it, Alvin. That’s got to be an E or an F!”

“You’ve got sex on the brain, Jerry, and you know next to nothing about girls. That’s barely a B.” It was then assumed she was trans and using breast forms. All the girls considered that though Georgina made minimal use of make up she probably used so little because she was pretty and with her flawless complexion she had little need of it. It was still assumed, though never remarked upon, that Georgina was trans. None of her peers thought any the worse of her for that, for theirs was an enlightened society. Enlightened enough for a number of her male classmates and a couple of female ones too to be interested in her to the point of wishing to date her. She’d always turned such offers down saying she had to look after Heather. It was known that she lived with Heather, a six year old who attended the local primary school along with a lot of their siblings too. It was believed that the two siblings were orphans and just about getting by. One of the girls had said that it was lucky for Georgina that she didn’t need much make up because it was so expensive that she needed to work on her dad before she could buy any more.

As the college year progressed Georgina’s short hair became a pixie cut. Then as it grew out a bit she had extensions, all of which seemed to support the contention that Georgina was in transition. One day she was spotted wearing a pair of double cross earrings by one of the girls who remarked they were pretty. She’d replied that they matched the one she wore on a chain around her neck. She further explained that they were crosses of Lorraine made of platinum and had been her mother’s, and she’d been given them by her mum when she was dying. Seeing that Georgina was upset at the memory the other girl asked no further questions and conversation returned to class matters. Many of her classmates interacted with Georgina on class matters, for she was intelligent and never seemed to have any trouble keeping up to date with her work. She was an effortless straight A student who had become popular because she was pleasant and helpful.

When Georgina admitted that she’d be eighteen in a few weeks her classmates had managed to persuade the daycare centre to look after Heather for a few extra hours, so they could all enjoy a Saturday afternoon out together. They’d had to settle for that because Georgina had point blank refused to go out in the evening, explaining she worked seven evenings a week at a local mini market store where her employers allowed her to take Heather to work with her, and she needed the money. Several of them attended the self defence and martial arts course that Georgina attended on Sunday afternoons at the local community centre, so that had been a no no for many of them too.

Many of Georgina’s classmates had younger siblings who attended the daycare, early years and primary school centre that Heather attended, and most of what they knew about Georgina had come to them via the younger children. Eventually they became aware that the two girls had moved a considerable distance away from their original home to escape an abusive father. It had seemed reasonable to conclude that he was abusive because Georgina was trans.

A few days after Georgina’s eighteenth birthday a man burst into her first class of the afternoon dragging Heather with him. Heather was screaming, “No, Daddy. No that hurts.” The man threw Heather to one side and slapped Georgina so hard he knocked her to the floor. He shouted at her to get up and told her they were going home. As he kicked Georgina to make her obey, Heather was screaming, “Stop it, Daddy. Don’t hurt us any more. We’ll be good. Promise.”

As she picked herself up from the floor, Georgina said, “No, Heather. No we won’t. I’m eighteen now, and I’m not going anywhere for him to hurt me or you ever again.” As she faced off with the man he grabbed Heather, pulled a knife and said, “If you don’t do as you’re told I’ll cut her face so badly she’ll never want to look in a mirror again, and I’ll give you a buzz cut again.” The lecturer had pressed the panic button as soon as the man had entered the room and the college police had arrived in time to hear what he’d said and to see Georgina close with the man to protect Heather. Georgina had both her hands around the man’s wrist keeping the knife away from herself. In the struggle he’d released Heather and focussed on hitting Georgina with his free hand. With him distracted she’d managed to turn his knife hand. Using her recently acquired skills she allowed herself to fall backwards pulling the man down on top of herself. Unseen by any as they fell she guided the knife so that as he came down it plunged into his heart. Obviously not known at the time she would later be deemed blameless.

It had all taken less than a handful of seconds and the police had hesitated whilst they evaluated the situation by which time it was all over. It was a few seconds before the police managed to pull him off Georgina. As they did, she’d had her hands around the knife which left his chest with a gush of blood and slid to the floor. When she stood she could see him twitching as the pool of blood on the floor spread out and within seconds started to congeal at the edges. Georgina stared at the knife at his side and hugging Heather said, “It’s all over now, Sweetheart. He’ll never hurt us again.”

In front of a silent and deeply shocked lecturer and class, a police woman gently asked, “Who was he? Ex boyfriend? Husband?”

Georgina was at that point shaking with relief and unable to answer. Heather answered for her, “We left home and came here because Daddy did mean things to us and was always hurting me and Mummy.”

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 46 Bringing the Past into the Future in the Present

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 46 Bringing the Past into the Future in the Present

This is for those few of you who are interested in the GOM. For the first time since writing GOM 01 I have nothing left in the ideas file. There is nothing with which I can even begin GOM 47. Doubtless material will eventually arrive, but I believe that to find, or imagine enough to create GOM 47 will take considerable time. I do, however, have a considerable’ amount of material for other tales and am also working on various aspects of Castle T S, but I seem to have travelled as far as my journey can go with the GOM for the foreseeable future.

Pronouns

Pronouns

This is a snippet out of GOM 46 that I am currently working on, but I thought it may be of interest as a short short stand alone. I’m still working on it in GOM 46 so it may end up slightly different and probably much longer. These are the words of a fictional character in a tale that is pure fantasy, so whilst comments are always welcome it is pointless to have a go at me.

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 45 Teachers and Tofu

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 45 Teachers and Tofu

“However, we’d been talking for no more than ten minutes when I realised I was in way over my head. I’d already made my mind up about her.

She is our kind of folk, and desperate to be seen as such, so I rang for Adalheidis to take over. A part time chiropodist I could manage, but one who intends to spend the rest of her working time as a ladies’ manicurist and was trying desperately hard to convince me she can do the job, just forget it. My secondary sex characteristics just don’t meet the requirements necessary to understand the differences between acrylic and gel nails. Adalheidis spent the next two days giggling and laughing at me.

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 44 Spring, Broadband, and Natural Justice

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 44 Spring, Broadband, and Natural Justice

Since being a toddler, Violet had heard many conversations concerning war, it was something regularly discussed by Bearthwaite men, a number of who had served in the armed forces, and she had taken it all in, for to her the Bearthwaite view made perfect sense. Much of what she’d heard over and over again could be summarised in short pithy sentences. ‘Wars are caused by idiots who have the principles that ordinary blokes don’t give a toss about, but end up dying for anyway.’ ‘The number of armed conflicts a nation gets involved in is a measure of the incompetence and stupidity of its leaders because in the end all conflicts are settled around the negotiating table. It doesn’t actually require that much intelligence to have the negotiations before the conflict.’ ‘A squaddie I knew a long time ago who’d been in the mob for twenty-odd years once telt me that a battle that doesn’t happen is one won by the lads on both sides.’

Yæmis

Yæmis

Yæmis was in trouble, again, kind of. For an eleven year old girl in year seven she got into a lot of trouble, kind of.

“This must he the fifth time you have been sent to see me this week,” the headteacher said.

Yæmis smiled and said, “The sixth, and it’s only Wednesday lunchtime, so averaging it out before school’s end on Friday I’ll be seeing you another six times.”

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 43 Bearthwaite Beck, Solid Fuel & Limned Letters

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 43 Bearthwaite Beck, Solid Fuel & Limned Letters

If Dr Tenby had any surprise at seeing a naked, eleven year old, biological female holding his father's hand she kept it to herself.

At the end of Peter’s appointment, Dr Tenby stood up and said, “You have an amazing relationship with your son, Herr Meltzer. A relationship that many of my younger patients could only dream about having.” She escorted them to the door and shook hands with them as they said goodbye.

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 42 Adoption, Education and Death

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 42 Adoption, Education and Death

After the first serious beating by forces unknown of the most vociferous bigot, an overweight fifteen year old who went by the nickname of Porky, behind the dining hall even the name calling diminished to almost nothing. The entire school knew the Bearthwaite kids had to have been responsible, but they were as closed mouthed about the matter as they always were about any incident that protected their own and as usual the school authorities were frustrated by finding out nothing, for Dean, Porky’s real name, had clearly been terrorised into silence and stuck to his story that he’d seen nobody. The rumour was that he’d been telt if he opened his mouth he’d be the next transgender victim of the gossip and he wouldn’t be needing GRS because it would already have been done for him, but none knew if that were true or just scuttlebutt.

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 41 Bearthwaite Politics, Law, Lore and Reality

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 41 Bearthwaite Politics, Law, Lore and Reality

One of the pupils at Whiteport Academy was Fergus McCann. To others fourteen year old Fergus was the ultimate alpha male. A big strong and physically unstoppable boy who was the star of all the physical sport games he played for his school. It was a surprise to most when they discovered he was more interested in the creative stories he wrote for his English teacher than he was in his endeavours on the fields of sport. The boys thought he was a bit odd because he admitted to enjoying reading, and even writing, poetry, drawing and painting, but none made anything of it because Fergus was not someone whose ire they wished to court. Without doubt Fergus was a masculine male, and he had never considered being, nor had he ever wanted to be anything else. But his day dreams would have been considered by most of his peers to be in a word, pink, if that is any other than himself had been aware of them. He had absolutely no desire to be in any way feminine and like other typical males of his age from time to time he had sexual fantasies concerning his friend’s mothers and sisters, but naytheless he had a very different view as to what constituted masculinity from that of the males of his acquaintanceship and especially his father, Davy, who he did not get on with. His father would have liked him better if he’d been a male chauvinist bully, and better still if he’d been a chauvinist thug like himself, but his mother, Eunice, was delighted that Fergus was naturally polite, helpful and considerate, especially to girls, but his father unremittingly reviled him for being a sissy. The only reason it had not come to blows between them was that his father was like a lot of bullies a coward and was deep down afraid of Fergus who had for a number of years been bigger and stronger than his father.

A Grimm Færie Tale of The Future?

Somi knew when he could no longer fulfil his duties he would be euthanised. His unguarded saw had bitten him thrice over the years, but not badly enough for him to have been euthanised. The last time had cost him a finger, but since he had carried on working nothing had been said by his supervisor and he’d been allowed to live.

When he came to the conclusion that something powerful was preventing him from seeing himself he lost heart and tried to stop dreaming. Yet the dreams kept coming during the day, especially the dreams of the young women. It was in despair that he realised sooner or later they would distract him from his work and would cost him a hand and that would be his end.

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 40 Bearthwaite Acquires New Bearthwaite Folk

“Davy is a hundred and three just turned and Granny’s hundred and first birthday is on the ninth of next month. Elle has telt Casper Lawton to be prepared, and to have a traditional Bearthwaite ash wood coffin ready for him. The allotment lads have said that for more than his entire working life Davy was one of them and they’re ready to dig the grave at a moment’s notice.

This contains an edited version of ‘A DISTURBING SCENE’ first posted on 2019/09/10

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 39 Iroko, Ermine and Critters

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 39 Iroko, Ermine and Critters

“You’re seriously telling us that you’re doing all that learning just to cook chicken chow mien, Jeremy‽ Just get a book written in English, Lad. My missus would lend you one if you’re strapped for the cash.” Pat’s words caused gales of laughter. All knew that was not the issue, but they were up for the laugh anyway.

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 38 Bearthwaite Invests Even More in Itself

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 38 Bearthwaite Invests Even More in Itself

“Nay, Lad that was fine. There’s nothing to be ashamed of in telling of the lives of ordinary working blokes, and those lads that died fighting that fire and in the explosion deserve to be remembered, and doubtless they were our kind of folk just trying to get by in a hostile world. We may not know their names, but there’s many a man here who tragically lost a mate under different but similar circumstances at work and will feel for them and their families and mates. It one of the reasons we meet here. Even Sasha tells the truth occasionally, though I’m not sure about Dave.” At Vincent’s final words there were hoots of laughter including from Dave.

Hannah and Hannah – The Bigger Girls

Hannah and Hannah – The Bigger Girls

However, as I said we got lucky, with pretty lacy trim, a lovely bow to enforce the dividing line between our conjoined state, and overall some delicious shades of coral. Not exactly pink you understand, there’re just enough shades of orange in there to make us truly distinctive and obviously of superior lineage.

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 37 Alf’s Philosophies and Youtube

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 37 Alf’s Philosophies and Youtube

“It’s not all bad getting old you know, John. The good thing about being an old bugger is youngsters just assume you know nowt, which in the case of stuff you don’t give a toss about is probably true, well it is for me any road, but for stuff that really matters, they know nowt and I do. I love dealing with ’em because I won’t play their games and they have to play mine. I haven’t figured out what an app is yet never mind a bloody widget, and don’t bother telling me because I won’t listen because I don’t care. Tell you lads dealing with youngsters is easy money.”

“How do you mean, Alf?”

“Well, while they’re busy doing a thousand quids’ [$1117] worth of damage to a car to rip out a hundred pound [$112] radio to sell on a car boot [yard sale] for a tenner [$11], I’m busy making a legit living out of them. They can’t rip me off because I only deal in cash and direct bank transfers, after I’ve rung the bank to make sure I’ve got the money of course. I only deal in owt that guarantees I get paid up front, cash or goods it doesn’t matter as long as I can tell it’s actually worth what they say it is. If there’s any doubt I won’t accept the deal. I don’t do credit unless it’s someone that lives here. I don’t have owt to do with anything that comes over a mobile phone or a computer, and I don’t give a monkeys how smart it’s reckoned to be. I don’t trust credit card transfers and I’ve never accepted cheques. Result is I’ve never had any bad debts.

Global Importers and Facilitators

“I’ll let you use the rooms upstairs rent free if you’ll hire LGBT+ folk, Mary. There are loads come in here who are highly qualified, but can’t get work despite the equal opportunity legislation. Many like you had decent paying jobs till their management discovered they were different. Make it clear you will hire anyone who can do the job. The LGBT+ are taking a chance just by breathing, for sure they’ll take a chance on a future job even if it means working for free for a while. Everyone that comes in here knows you got fired for being trans. They’ll be more than willing to help get some guaranteed discrimination free employment off the ground.” Mary who was acutely aware how it felt to be unfairly treated and how little it took to hurt someone who was already suffering decided to take Elsie’s advice, and so it started.

A Man of the Scriptures

Jacob was aware he was in for a grilling, but having grown up from birth under the influence of his parent’s synagogue he didn’t see it as a matter of defending his family’s beliefs rather as an opportunity to explain them to outsiders who rarely could be bothered to seek enlightenment.

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 36 Changes Ancient and Modern

I think unless something happens soon to change his life significantly, something that gives him a place in life, a rôle, a purpose and some light at the end of the tunnel he’ll end up committing suicide before long. Such a mind set is dangerous in people who have kids they care about because their minds become so disturbed they often take the kids with them rather than risk them ending up in even worse circumstances. Keep that to yourself. None else who can’t reason it out for himself needs to know. His lack of self confidence and the fear he’ll lose the children is crippling him to the point of being barely able to function. Christ his whole life has been one unending pile of shite, whatever happens has got to be an improvement. A decent single bloke with no life experience worth a damn and even less self confidence who has clearly been reviled and abused all his life by women as well as men was given the custody of his sister and brother in law’s three orphaned kids because his parents are too old and his sisters already have a family and cant afford to take the kids in, and with no bloody support at all he was expected to cope playing mother and father both to the kids. He’s doing his damnedest, but what the f*** were the powers that be thinking of?”

Morgan and Strath

At birth Morgan’s parents had registered him as a boy and reared him as a boy for obvious reasons, he had a penis. His early life had in the main been happy, but after the age of thirteen his life had become lonely, hard on his nerves and his only constant companions had been hunger and cold. By the age of fifteen he was gender confused, although he’d never heard of the term, which was hardly surprising for that was when Murphy reappeared in his life, and visited him with the puberty Morgan had been expecting for a couple of years. Though Morgan wasn’t particularly surprised, and indeed was a little relieved, his problem was it wasn’t the event any one else would have expected, for menarche and breast development is usually associated with girls.

Is Gender Even Real Part One and Part Two

Part One
Yet again Lindsay was dreaming. The dream was strange but as usual vivid and sharply detailed. It seemed to involve being in a bed in a small room with numerous folk dressed in blue and others in white coats looking at inexplicable things that had moving patterns on them that seemed to almost but never quite constantly repeat themselves. They also looked at objects that made strange noises at regular intervals. Lindsay was aware that there were a number of tubes and white string like things seemingly connected to the bed. However, like many of Lindsay’s dreams it was neither totally rational nor totally consistent. Lindsay’s dreams made life a living torment, for dream and reality crossed over, blended and became each other. It was impossible to determine what was a dream and what was reality. Dreaming of dreams within dreams within dreams, and dreams even deeper nested than that, dreams like images in two mirrors facing each other that reached to infinity and drew one into insanity, meant Lindsay had no idea what being awake was like, for all such experiences were probably only dreams too.

Part 2
“I want you to come home with me. I am here to arrange it all. I know about carrying the message to engage the assassin to kill Tomas, and the new dresses made by Serena your fee paid for. I know you are really a girl. I know all about your new dresses and where you keep them. I know how you get past the guards dressing as a girl, but you won’t be able to do that for much longer will you? It will not be safe for you when the guards here discover that you have been tricking them. I said I want you to come home with me, but I want you as my sister, the girl you want to be. I know you wish to be able to read and write, and I can give you that and much more too.”

Shrink me no Shrinks.

Phyllis was cynical, perhaps with good reason, and considered the delegates and deliverers of the course to be a typical, left wing bunch with a disproportionate number of non whites, non binaries and generally professed anti establishment pedants, despite most being paid good, upper middle class salaries by the establishment which they were in truth pillars of. ‘Ah well,’ she’d thought, ‘It’s good to know that hypocrisy is still alive and kicking at all levels.’

It’s Rat. Tasty. Want Some?

“I know you. Fact is I know hundreds just like you. Gateshead wasn’t it. You were about to blow me in to Social Services weren’t you? Nosey busy bodies like you should learn to just mind your own business. I know you’ll blow me in because you’re a teacher and you have to. I don’t need Social Services and I don’t need you, your do gooder intentions, nor your sympathy. I’ve no intention of telling you or anyone else anything about me. Bye.”

A Lucky Man

I look at my skin which has lost of its elasticity of youth. I think about my long gone missing teeth and the dentures that have taken their place. My lost muscle tone and the tight buttocks that women told me were so attractive have long gone as have most of those women, for few women, never mind men, live to my age. At a hundred and five, despite my good health, and reasonable faculties, I am an old and decrepit man staring death in the face because my heart is finally giving way to time. I have at most three months left, and you can’t imagine how grateful I was to receive that information.

Is Gender Even Real Part One and Part Two

Part One
Yet again Lindsay was dreaming. The dream was strange but as usual vivid and sharply detailed. It seemed to involve being in a bed in a small room with numerous folk dressed in blue and others in white coats looking at inexplicable things that had moving patterns on them that seemed to almost but never quite constantly repeat themselves. They also looked at objects that made strange noises at regular intervals. Lindsay was aware that there were a number of tubes and white string like things seemingly connected to the bed. However, like many of Lindsay’s dreams it was neither totally rational nor totally consistent. Lindsay’s dreams made life a living torment, for dream and reality crossed over, blended and became each other. It was impossible to determine what was a dream and what was reality. Dreaming of dreams within dreams within dreams, and dreams even deeper nested than that, dreams like images in two mirrors facing each other that reached to infinity and drew one into insanity, meant Lindsay had no idea what being awake was like, for all such experiences were probably only dreams too.

Part 2
“I want you to come home with me. I am here to arrange it all. I know about carrying the message to engage the assassin to kill Tomas, and the new dresses made by Serena your fee paid for. I know you are really a girl. I know all about your new dresses and where you keep them. I know how you get past the guards dressing as a girl, but you won’t be able to do that for much longer will you? It will not be safe for you when the guards here discover that you have been tricking them. I said I want you to come home with me, but I want you as my sister, the girl you want to be. I know you wish to be able to read and write, and I can give you that and much more too.”

Changes Ancient and Modern

“However, back to the matter at hand. Nowadays, the matter of male and female is considered by the open minded to be a very broad multi dimensional continuum, a multi dimensional spectrum if you like, rather than two points at the opposite ends of a single dimensional line. However, the question I would love to have answered is at what point, and why, does a person of one apparent gender or perhaps that’s better expressed as one apparent identity, wherever they are on that multi dimensional spectrum, make the decision that they are in the wrong body, or indeed that they are in the right one? I’m asking what is the trigger mechanism that brings about that magical transformation? I know the matter is much more complicated than that, but you have to start somewhere. I am sure I’m not the only one who would like to know. I also suspect the matter to be deep, very, very deep.

This is an extract from A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale Ch. 36 Changes Ancient and Modern that is not yet ready for posting, but I considered it to be capable of standing alone as a solo tale perhaps of interest to those who have no interest in the GOM tales.

Honour Killings

The news was full of it. A trans girl had been tortured to death by her father, brothers and uncles in Lahore. What was so shocking to the civilised world was the men freely admitted their rôles in the matter and justified it by saying it was a matter of honour that the killing had had to take place. The prosecution case had been summarily dismissed and the men had walked free to virtually universal public acclaim in the Islamic world.

Germain and Marguerite

All of Frances’ theatre group, technicians as well as players, were agreed they should put on a production of her play as their next project when they’d finished putting on the ever popular ‘The Song of Solomon’ and after they’d had a few weeks rest. Helen the senior sound technician had said, “After all that blatant eroticism, the darkness of your work will be a challenging but interesting contrast, Frances. Angela will actually have to do some work next time.”

The last caused considerable laughter because Angela was the female wardrobe mistress, and most of the women and girls had been on stage for most of each performance at best scantily glad and more often wearing just stage make up.

Closure

Andrew’s clothes had just about reached the end of their useful existence when he found the four boxes of clothes in front of the bins. The holes in his shoes had been letting water in for some time, his jeans had more holes than material and his shirt was ripped to shreds as a result of a fight over some thrown out food he’d been eating. He’s lost the fight, the food and more significantly a lot of warmth due to his damaged clothing. The boxes of clothing contained items from a charity shop that hadn’t sold. After three months anything still on the racks was dumped to make way for newer stock. After ratching through the boxes all the way to the bottom, twice, he realised they only contained women’s and girls’ clothes. The solitary pair of foot ware in the largest box was a pink pair of girl’s trainers, [sneakers] but they fit him and were watertight. There were no jeans nor trousers of any description in the boxes.

Life had made the young Andrew cynical, and he suspected if they had their hands on him Social Services would naturally return him to his mother simply because it was the most obvious f*** up they could make.

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 35 Just Wear a Mask

A good man is like a good malt, to be savoured and enjoyed in the evening and an exceptionally good one well into the early hours, but I reckon I’d be in serious trouble if I ever found myself enjoying either with breakfast.

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