Transport Stories

I sit in Dylan Rey’s hair salon on Tunbridge Wells High Street and stare at my new little black bob. I worried it wouldn’t suit my face, that I wouldn’t be able to manage the upkeep, and that at thirty-six I was too old. Scariest of all, if I didn’t have long hair would I look blokey – the perennial risk for a transgender woman? But it is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. A chunky, straight fringe hangs from a smal...

I had to go to London to sign some documents; Dec’s wanted me to drive but I thought it would be better to go by train.  I arrived at Victoria but needed a tube to patch me through to Upminster. The tube train was packed full of hot commuters crammed in like sardines. I could smell the musky aroma of sweat, aftershave and perfume. There was a problem with the signals and it was lurching its way slowly down the line, stopp...