My life, like many trannys, is punctuated by "firsts". The first time I got excited by wearing and item of female attire. The first time I fully dressed en-femme, the first time I went out dressed, and so on. It's like every tranny has a long checklist of achievements, and every time you tick off a another box it feels
good.
Once I got out onto the scene or beyond, the firsts came thick and fast. Each night out had at least one. Meet another tranny,
tick. Drive en-femme,
tick. Go out dressed in a non-tranny venue,
tick.
It can be quite addictive, but there's a law of diminishing returns. Eventually you realise that not every night out can be groundbreaking; and just because something is "the next step" it doesn't mean you have to take it.
I sometimes wonder if some full-time "transsexuals" (note the careful use of quotes and the word
some) are actually transvestites who got addicted to ticking off all the boxes.
So anyway, it's been a while since I went out as Becky and achieved anything new, and I've kind of reached a plateau anyway. Doing anything more will take me places that I don't currently want or need to be. Last night, however I found a little checkbox high on my list that had remained unticked: a night out in my home county of
Norfolk, England.
Now Norfolk isn't exactly known for it's "scene". I joke that my home town of King's Lynn is
Tranny Capital of the Fens. Truthfully however, the gay scene (which trannies tend to use as a safe haven) is pretty sparse in this county, and I was always quite happy trannying further afield. But recently I'd started to wonder what the gay scene was like in closer to home. Norwich is virtually my back yard, relative to some of the places I've travelled to for a tranny night out! So last night me and my friend Amanda (fellow King's Lynn T-girl) decided to check it out.
Ah Norwich, home of
Alan Partridge, Colman's Mustard and Trisha. It was once said that Norwich had 365 pubs and 52 churches, so you could drink in a different pub every day of the year, and confess your sins at a different church every Sunday.
A lot of pubs, but not many gay bars, and no reported tranny activity. So it was with an almost pioneeering spirit that Amanda and I descended on the city, gay-guide in hand.
The place Amanda and I had decided to try was
The Castle, a busy gay pub on the outskirts of Norwich, and according to the press the main gay venue of the city. It was very lively, lots of gay guys and lesbians having a good time. We ordered a drink and stood near the bar. It was pretty apparent we were the only t-girls in there, which is by no means a bad thing, but I was getting the impression that this was
not a "tranny place". It felt more like a regular pub than any gay pub i've been in a before. Amanda had (possibly sensibly) dressed down a little in a black jacket, long skirt and black top. I was wearing a pink t-shirt, short white denim skirt, pink fishnets and pink boots. Next to the crowds of lesbians in cargo trousers and gay skinheads in camo gear I was feeling distinctly... pink!
Thinking back today it's hard to define what was wrong with The Castle, but Amanda and I both quickly decided it wasn't our cup of tea. We knew that there was a gay club in town, called
The Loft, but we weren't sure if it was open every weekend. Luckily Amanda had bought a local gay guide, which suggested it
was open every Saturday. Onwards!
The Loft looked very shut indeed. It was cold and had started raining. Downhearted, we decided to make the best of the night and head to The Fox and Hounds, a gay pub in essex and dependable tranny oasis of the Eastern Counties. Our Norwich expedition a failure, we traipsed back to the car.
Our drive out of town took us by the entrance of The Loft. Some people were unlocking the door and going inside. I checked the listing in the gay mag again... no opening times but there was a telephone contact number, so I rang it.
Yes, The Loft was open tonight. At 10:30. Yay!
We had half an hour to kill. Neither Amanda or I had eaten so...
Standing in a Dominos Pizza en-femme waiting for your takeout order to be cooked,
tick.
The Loft turned out to be
very cool! A nice friendly mix of fun people, great music (upstairs current dance, downstairs funky oldies), and a nicely appointed venue.
On our arrival the manager had kindly said that if we got any trouble to let him know, but we didn't get any trouble at all. We were still the only en-femme t-girls in the venue, but it was a completely different vibe to The Castle. I spent a lot of time chatting to a very cute straight girl. She said that her step-dad was TS so she understood that it took balls to do what I do. I couldn't argue!
We spoke to the manager again on the way out, who made a point of checking that we'd had a good night. We had. One of our best nights out yet, we agreed.
It's funny that if we hadn't seen people going into the Loft, and Amanda hadn't had the magazine with the contact number which I rang, we would have probably left Norwich that night and never come back. As it is, I'm thinking of going back next weekend!
Ignore me Becky, I'm quite drunk
Have a great time!
Post a CommentPermalink Subscribe to comments: this post | all posts