It seems odd to be writing like this, but the fact you are reading it means that I have now been missing for sufficient time for the authorities to declare me dead. Do not feel sad for me for it means that things have turned out exactly as I want. What I have to tell you will seem strange in the extreme and will require a great deal of suspension of disbelief on your part, and it was for that reason that I specified that this document should be read by you and you alone. Whether you choose to believe it or not and what you decide to do about it is up to you, but perhaps there will be some means of proving the truth of it in due course. I am truly sorry to have made you and my other friends worry about my welfare, but as you shall see, I could not say anything at the time.

I wonder how much you remember of our friendship starting back in primary school? I know that some of the boys wondered why a tall athletic youth like you should be friends with a short 'bookworm' like me. Nowadays I suppose they would have concluded that we were both gay, but things were different then. I suppose we complimented each other. When you had problems with your homework, I helped you, and in turn you tried to help me at least make an effort to play cricket and football, though all to no avail. Something nobody, including you, knew about me was that for as long as I could remember I knew that I had been born in the wrong body and should have been a girl. One day when the physical education master had called out in frustration. “Come on Leonard, you move like a girl” I was sorely tempted to reply “That's because I am one, sir.” I didn't of course — I didn't dare reveal my inner feelings to anyone and in those pre-internet days, I, like so many others, thought I was the only person in the world who felt that way, so I kept it a secret. When I was older and began to live on my own, I acquired some women's clothing so that I could enjoy 'girl-time', but always in secret of course. I imagine that this is no longer news to you if you are aware of the contents of my room at the boarding house. I can't imagine you thought I had a girlfriend. But just dressing as a woman was not enough for me, and I was seriously starting to think about undergoing gender re-assignment, when my life circumstances changed so radically.

I move forward now to the holiday we had together in the Lake District. I hope you can remember the day I visited the stone circle of 'Castlerigg' on my own due to you being sick with gastro? That is where it all started. It was a warm day with a cloudless sky and perfect for a day's drive out in the beautiful countryside. I soon found the start of 'Eleventrees' and there was a sign indicating 'Castlerigg' at the junction. The road narrowed and slowly climbed, and eventually I saw a few cars parked beside the road up ahead, and deduced that this was the place. Parking the car I crossed the road and passed through the small wooden gate. I could see the stones on the skyline ahead of me as I walked up the slight rise past some sheep peacefully eating the grass.

I was unprepared for what awaited me when I neared the stones so perfectly situated at the top of the rise. Turning slowly, all about me were some of the Lake District's most iconic peaks — 'Skiddaw', 'Blencathra', 'Helvellyn', 'Grassmore' and 'Threlkeld Knott'. Even the names are romantic. I felt a sudden shortness of breath, overwhelmed by the beauty and majesty of this site steeped in history. How could I have ignored what was in my own backyard for so long? These stones had stood there while pharaohs sat on the throne of Egypt, and while other great civilisations had risen and fallen. They will be here when my body has turned to dust.

I felt a bit dizzy and reached out to the nearest stone to steady myself, and I felt a tingling in my arm, almost like an electric shock. I wondered if the heat was getting to me. The air seemed to quiver. I could see vague figures moving slowly in the circle but they were blurred. I took a deep breath and stepped between two large stones which seemed like the entrance, and into the circle. As I did so, the air seemed to ripple around me, and then it cleared. For a moment everything looked the same — the stones and the surrounding peaks, just as they have for thousands of years, but then I realised that something wasn't the same. I have always loved the BBC's 'bonnet dramas' like 'Pride and Prejudice', 'Cranford' etc, imagining myself as the heroine of course. Now I suddenly realised that the few couples promenading inside the ring were dressed in Regency period clothes of the early eighteen hundreds, the men in tailcoats, trousers and boots, and either wearing or carrying top hats, and the women wearing high-waisted muslin dresses which reached the ground.

'Goodness,' I thought. 'They are shooting scenes for another period drama and I've wandered onto the set. Why hasn't someone called out to me to make myself scarce?'

I looked around but there was no sign of any cameras or crew, and it was then I realised something else. My chest felt strangely constricted and I automatically reached up to touch it. Shocked, I looked down and saw that I was no longer wearing shorts but a long muslin dress. I could feel the breeze pressing it against the back of my legs. What's more, where my hand touched my chest I could see and feel the gentle swell of breasts under the gown. I felt very light-headed and reached out to a nearby stone to steady myself. This must be a dream, it just could not be happening. All my life I had longed to be a woman and now my wish had come true, but surely in a dream. And yet, and yet, it seemed so real. I held tightly onto the rock afraid I was about to faint.

“Excuse me ma'amselle, may I be of assistance?” I looked up and saw the owner of the voice, a handsome young man who stood before me with a look of genuine concern on his face.

“I'm sorry, it's the heat. I've become a little faint,” I replied, startled by the sound of my voice which was soft and feminine.

“Here, let me help you please.”

Without further ado, he took my hand and guided me to one of the smaller stones where I was able to sit down. Then he took the parasol which I didn't even realise I was holding, and held it up to shade me, at the same time offering me a drink from a silver flask.

“I regret it is brandy wine, not what you are used to I'm sure, but it might fortify you,” he said.

I took a cautious sip, and the fiery liquid nearly made me choke, but it certainly did seem to steady me.

“How does that feel Miss err?”

“Bolton,” I replied, my real name of course but I didn't have time to think of anything else. “Thank you so much, sir. You've been very kind.”

“Surely you must have some friends or family here who can escort you back to Keswick?”

I looked around vaguely. How could I possibly explain I was here by myself? Young Regency ladies rarely wander about the countryside on their own, and certainly not so far from home.

“My family are close-by, admiring the scenery,” I replied “If I rest here a while, they will come and find me. You have been very kind but please do not let me inconvenience you any more. I'm feeling much better now, and I will be perfectly alright.”

I didn't actually know if there was such a family of course, but I had to say something.

“Well, if you are sure?” he sounded rather disappointed at my words which amounted to a dismissal. To be honest I would have liked him to stay, but how could I when it would finally become apparent that I was on my own?

“Yes I'm sure, but thank you so much for coming to my aid,” I said, trying to soften the blow. With that he gave a slight bow and wandered off among the stones, although I noticed he glanced back from time to time to check on me.

'This won't do,' I said to myself 'It's a lovely dream but dreams don't last.”

I cautiously stood up and feeling better stepped towards the stones and through an opening between them. The air rippled again and suddenly I was outside the circle. I glanced down and felt a ridiculous sense of disappointment that I was once again wearing shorts, a t-shirt and hiking boots. I looked back through the haze to see if I could see the young man inside the circle but he seemed to have disappeared.

Feeling overwhelmed by tiredness, I made my way back to the car, sat down inside and promptly fell asleep. Some time later, when I awoke, the recollection of my dream, or whatever it was, returned in great detail. I got out of the car and walked up to look at the ring again. The air was clear and the few people wandering amongst the stones were all in modern dress. I told myself I must have imagined the whole thing, so I returned to the car and drove to Keswick, stopping for some lunch in the main street. I didn't want to go back to the inn too soon and disturb you so I took myself on a drive around the local countryside, marvelling at the amazing views. I was doing my best to distract my thoughts — I knew that, but time and time again they returned to the incident at Castlerigg. It had all seemed so real. Finally, late in the afternoon I drove back to the hotel to find that you were feeling much better.

You asked what I thought of Castlerigg and I was lost for words. I couldn't tell you what had happened, or at least what I thought had happened, so I made some remark about it being 'interesting', which sounded stupid even to me. Finally I settled on 'spiritual'- I could have said 'magical' but perhaps that was too revealing of my experience.

The next day it rained and we decided to head home. You drove me to my 'digs' and then headed south to London, and I confess on the journey back I misled you into thinking that I was planning to work on some lectures. I did cautiously ask you to expand on your remarks about stone circles and the claims of them being centres of power, and you were only too happy to do so, in the end saying you thought you had found a convert in me after all. Little did you know why!

As you now know, instead of staying in Oxford as I had indicated, I had already made the decision to return to Cumbria. If I didn't, I would be left forever wondering. If after visiting the circle nothing happened, well that would confirm that I had imagined the whole thing, but on the other hand....

I packed a small suitcase, got in my car and headed north. Arriving in Keswick, I took a room in a different hotel to the one where we had stayed, since I didn't want to answer awkward questions about why I had returned so soon. I was concerned about another issue too. Was there some way in which I could prove I had really travelled to the Regency period, that is assuming I had? To try to take a digital camera probably wouldn't work, and in any case how could I possibly explain its presence were anyone to see it? Was photography even invented at the time to which I'd returned? If so it was in its infancy. Then I had a thought. It would be a perfectly proper pursuit for a young lady to make a sketch of the scene, so why not take a sketchpad and pencils with me? I walked down the main shopping street and was fortunate in finding an artist's supplies. I wanted a sketchpad that did not look modern and found one without the modern ring-binding, and also some pencils which looked rather dated in appearance. Hopefully these would serve the purpose. I returned to the hotel, had an evening meal and went to bed early, which was probably a mistake because I could not sleep due to excitement about what tomorrow might bring.