Bourne Free - (part 2)

Actually Bournemouth, part 2, but with a fresher and more relevant title.

Thanks, Angela - you reminded me of the tune that was running through my head, after I had navigated the little maze of back streets, head half buried in Google Maps, trying to find an open path into the Central Gardens, where, as luck would have it for this title and song, the river Bourne flows.

The little paths into the Central Gardens were all closed.

One by one, I approached the narrow alleyways, only to be met with barriers and signs, and evidence of the lack of a footpath in the gardens.

This reminded me of the movie "Lawnmower Man", where he's locked in, and tries all manner of ways to escape the computer, but keeps getting "access denied".

It's a great movie!

However, the path I tried, just after I encountered the pretty lady with the wonderful makeup skills and her welcoming smile, was open!

Another sign!

Keep smiling, and have a good day.

The path led past the children's adventure playground, and a family with 2 small children were coming up the path.

I faltered a little: Was I being inappropriate? Cross dressing near a children's playground? Could this be viewed as suspicious behaviour?

Pull yourself together, Laura!

You're a family man with 3 children, and no inappropriate feelings whatsoever.

What is so suspicious about a fully dressed man?

A person dressed in ladies clothes?

Is that inappropriate?

I don't think so, not in the modern age of equality - and besides, my dress is perfectly modest - not to mention very pretty.

That's habitual, learned thought patterns right there, and it will not do.

People need to know that we might be wierdos, but we're the nice type. The sort sung about in the song "Creep" by Radiohead. The ones who see faces of angels, skin that makes us cry, and want perfect bodies and souls - not to mention control.

Interestingly, the word "want" has quite a few more meanings than the obvious. It can mean "lack".

The family paid me little attention as we passed, even the small children, who are naturally curious, as we all should be, only looked at me slightly longer than one might expect, then carried on their merry way, chattering away like any young family.

Tick.

Well done, Bournemouth, another comfort moment.

Nobody minds.

And so I entered the busy Central Gardens full of summery happiness  - this place is lovely any time of year - but the footpath that follows the Bourne was closed all the way past the tennis courts, right up under the flyover to Surrey Road.

I followed the river down stream, all the way to the pier, and caught eyes and only smiles from equal numbers of men and women - and even a couple of children.

Even in Brighton I encountered scowls, tuts, grim frowns and even hisses and the odd catcall - but not here. It was altogether more genteel and lovely.

I forgot to mention my pit stop. Obviously, I had to use the ladies facility, which presented no issues, as it wasn't too busy and nobody minded. 

The piece of graffiti in the cubicle I was in really caught my imagination - it was the loveliest sentiment I thought I'd ever read. When the writing is on the wall (or door, in this case), you just know everything is going to be just fine when it says "Have a good day, Babe. Keep smiling. You're gorge. ❤ XXX"

I took a photo of it. Hence the heart and 3 kisses are exactly as they were on the wall.

My heart grew wings - it really felt like it. What I was already telling myself was spelled out in front of me, a message of positivity from one girl to another.

Going out of the cubicle, a lady blocked my way slightly to the washbasins, but said "Sorry, dear" and moved to allow me access.

I thanked her, cleaned my hands and went out, to come face to face with a squirrel!

A lady, with her slightly bemused looking (presumably) husband was trying to take a picture of it.

She looked directly at me, smiled widely and said "Dear little thing, isn't he?"

I replied "Adorable!", and made the sort of noise one usually makes to attract cats.

Instantly, it sat up, in a perfect pose, and the lady got her photos and, giggling, thanked me very much.

Once I reached the pier, I decided that the first thing to do would be to locate the hotel and gauge their feelings towards CDs.

I normally book a chain, like Premier Inn or Travelodge, but this time, went for an independent, as it was the only place with semi-reasonably priced rooms near the centre.

I hadn't fully appreciated just how near the centre - just up the hill, opposite the BIC, and there I was - my goodness I'd lucked out!

But, how far would this luck continue?

I walked up the steps, through the automatic glass doors, a little self conscious of being 6' 4" and in a blue summer dress with white trainers and a blonde, slightly ratty wig. But my makeup was fresh, and I smiled, because I felt gorge and wanted to have a good day.

My enquiry into the car parking facilities was met with "Well, normally you can't park until check in around 2pm, but there are spaces, and you can park now, if you like.", and another lovely smile with slightly twinkly eyes like she was saying "I can tell, but that's perfectly OK - I have no problem with that at all" ("Keep smiling, You're gorge, Babe!!!").

I really wanted to know where the venue was for the show I'd booked, so decided first to walk to that so I'd know the route, before moving my car.

It turned out that there were a multitude of ways to get there, and it would take 16 minutes. So I would need a bag with heels in, as the route was mostly up hill. I love heels, but I love dancing too, and the best part of a mile, up hill in heels is not going to leave my feet in a good state - and there's the journey back to the hotel around midnight on a Saturday night in a busy seaside town to consider... downhill... drunk... hopefully!

The walk wasn't bad at all, and the venue turned out to be a kind of club bar in a Hotel called "Hotel Celebrity", which, apparently, was a favourite venue for Tony Hancock. It was a bit back of beyond, but it would do - and now I could get there without Google Maps.

Now to walk untrodden (by me) back roads, all of which showed tantalising glimpses of the town as it used to be not long ago when my grandparents would bring me here as a child.

Large swathes had been hacked away and replaced with monstrous hotel blocks - the older houses and outlines of meandering, poorer maintained lanes the only signs of the old town. Even the houses are no longer single family dwellings, but guest houses. I was transported suddenly to holidays in Wales and Cornwall, where horse pulled carts laden with milk churns would stop on partially made roads outside the holiday cottages in the farms we stayed at.

On the better farms, we would be invited into the dairy to see the cows being milked, and get warm milk, as fresh as could possibly be.

I reached the scarlet monster, as I affectionately call my automobile, and drove the 4 minutes to the car park opposite the hotel.

Boy, it was getting hot!

I'd noticed a lot of women in very light sun dresses with leaf patterns.

The first thing I caught myself doing was looking at them enviously - through pure habit, I realised!

Many is the time I have visited this fine seaside town, from a very young age, and almost always, it's been a family outing, and the deep-seated envy and resentment I had grown into, up with and out with was a proper habit.

I had the addiction to women's clothing long before I started actually wearing it!

Boom!

What a revelation for me - and what a mind-blowing state of euphoria as it dawned on me not slowly, but with an almost perceptible boom, that here I was, dressed that way at long last.

Or not quite.

I rummaged in my case, and pulled out the very light, leaf-patterned dress, got into the car and changed - after a quick look up and down the floor.

Good, an hour to go before the advertised parking time. No problems.

Into the dress, back to the hotel to validate the ticket, and I nearly fainted with pleasure and delight when the lovely lady at the hotel check-in said that my room was ready, and I could have it now. 2 hours ahead of schedule.

I checked in, went back to the car for my case and makeup bag, freshend up in my lovely, light room with a window that actually opened and headed out again to find some lunch and walk around the busy town in the lightest piece of gossamer that I had always dreamed of wearing in this place. In the cool Central Gardens, promenading with the other gorge babes, on the pier, risking a Marilyn moment as I had witnessed many times - now I would allow life to even out the score - and along the miles of golden sand and blue-green surf.

This was something I had waited my whole life to do, and it was really, really happening, and I don't know if this babe could smile any wider.

To be continued...