Brian caught the eastbound night bus and was gratified to see some light-hearted couples, clearly excited after dancing at the Palais - his timing was good for a return to his mother’s. He’d felt suddenly glum as he walked away from Aunt Pen’s, remorseful even. Was this ‘post coital tristesse’? There hadn’t been real coitus. Everything but. He hopped off the bus a couple of stops early, he needed time to compose his thoug...

For my evening encounter with Brian, I put on a pair of scarlet knickers and a black basque. On my last trip to London, I had bought some jet black, silk toreador pants at Harvey Nicks, I had been dying to wear them and this was their moment. Over these, I wore a thin semi-sheer blouse and slipped into some patent black mules. Brian knocked precisely at nine and I let him in, he red had on a boat neck jersey with a pale b...

That spring it was quite warm and there were scads of people walking down the Ferry Road to the bathing beach a few streets south of my home; they were mostly town people so I didn’t mind as they passed, some calling ‘hallo Pen!’ My washerwoman had been in that morning and the clothesline in the back garden was full and I was just putting a few additional odds and ends out to dry on the umbrella in the side yard when Em’s...

I put aside the story and immediately started into the remaining pile of TV Epoch magazines and looked for the next month in the publication sequence for the Auntie Pen’s Princess stories. They advertised six and eventually I found five of them including the one I had just read. I checked every magazine, but the sixth wasn’t there. Well, at least I knew what month it was - September, 1983. I could search online for it. I...

When I got home from the Hollywood Hills I barely had the strength to remove my makeup. I was so exhausted I just wanted to flop on the bed and pass out, but I persevered and undressed properly, removed all makeup and even put my wig back on its wig head.But when I was finally between the covers my brain refused to cooperate, rethinking the night's events, imagining how they may have looked to an observer, or to Harold Pl...

The story so far: debt-ridden Sissy Blane's first obligatory date with Mr. Plumrose is about to take place. '...there's nothing good or bad, but thinking makes it so.' The truth of the old saying occurred to me as I awoke on the fateful Friday and was surprised to discover that I was looking forward to the events of the coming evening.Arising from my bed feeling energized I bounced downstairs to make a breakfast of oatmea...

I became familiar with the Plumrose Dossier one cool February morning when it was read to me in the private rooms of Madame H at the Clinic.*****I'd arrived that morning for my weekly 'therapy' and had only enough time to hang up my outer clothes in the Sissies' cloakroom and don my Eva Gabor wig before a facilitator poked her head in and told me I was wanted in Madame H’s office immediately. Even at that point I knew thi...