I hate Halloween.

There I’ve said it.

Just before you think I’m a horrible person I love Christmas and Easter. But I also hate birthdays – specifically my own. Sorry.

When I was 7or 8 (the last time I ever felt positively about Halloween) you had two costume choices: witch or vampire. I used to don my black bin bag and fake wig and politely ask my neighbours for sweets.

What I did not do was egg every house down the street. I know not every kid does this but having been a victim of an egg attack I tend to generalise.

Another thing that annoys me about Halloween is the commercialisation of it all. Every big supermarket has aisles dedicated to it from September onwards and people start covering their houses in a network of webs for me to innocently walk in to.

I am aware that this post seems unnecessarily angry but I just can’t stand Halloween.

Maybe I’m getting grumpy as I get older.


A dream. Of a sexual nature.

Just to make this clear, this isn’t a graphic post about a sex dream I had. Yes, it is about a sex dream that I had but it’s more about what I think about said dream, how unrealistic said dream was and what it could mean. Advance apologies though if I offend anyone etc.

So the dream went a bit like this:

I was house sitting for this family and the daughter of the family decided to stay. Then we were just chatting in a corridor when I pointed to their conservatory and said “want to rumble in the jungle?”. She agreed and we had sex.

Now, I have a few issues with this dream:

  • I know this girl in real life. She went to my school and we had a couple of lessons together and I’d have the odd chat with her but nothing serious and when I’ve been awake I don’t think about her and certainly don’t find her attractive. So why was she in my dream?
  • Why didn’t she leave the house and let me get on with my house sitting duties like napping on the sofa, watching tv and eating everything from their fridge?
  • Why did I think the line “rumble in the jungle” would work? And why did it work?

I’m a bit of a novice when it comes to dream defining so I had a quick look on the good old internet and it said the following:

  • One website says that if I dream of homosexual sex and am a homosexual in real life then it is merely a reflection of myself and my life. Well I can tell you it certainly isn’t!
  • According to another website, I may be nervous to embark on a new relationship.
  • It was also suggested that I am missing sex in my waking life. That is evident from my use of the phrase “rumble in the jungle” to be honest…
  • A lot of websites talk about my subconscious brain exploring “taboo” subjects. The only thing that was taboo about my dream was that I was a really bad house sitter. I didn’t hoover or unload the dishwasher like I had previously promised to do…
  • My dream might also be a sign of my secret hopes and fears. Hmmm.

All in all I think it was probably just my mind wandering off but it’s definitely food for thought.

Man, I feel like a woman (every day of my life).

When my mum gave birth to me on the 10th of February 1993 I bet she had no idea what I’d become. Maybe a vet or a lawyer or a doctor. Maybe a police officer, a paramedic or a teacher. But probably not a lesbian.

Being a lesbian is not a full time career. It takes me minutes a day to scroll through afterellen.com and catch up on lesbian and bi life in the media and it takes even less time for me to look like a lesbian. I always look like a lesbian, or, at least, a stereotypical one.

I have short, often spiky or ruffled hair and tend to wear a lot of shirts, trousers and, if I’m treating myself, ties. I scream lesbian. (Not literally, that would be a bit odd.)

I have been blessed with fairly large breasts. I’m not boasting, they’re just there. Whilst I have no problem with them except for their considerable weight, they seem to pose a problem for other people who try and guess my gender.

I am called sir at takeaway drive throughs, restaurants and swimming pools. I am told that “the men’s toilets are next door” in cafes and theatres.

Some say I bring this on myself and I can understand that. If I hated being called a man so much I would surely make myself feminine? Yeah that makes sense, I get why people would think that.

But here’s the thing. Until I reached 18 when I cut my hair and started to become who I knew I was all along I felt like I was living a lie. I looked in the mirror at my long hair and didn’t see me. I saw someone who was just trying to conform to avoid confrontation. Well fuck that, I am better than that and I am stronger than that.

As you can imagine, I hate gender stereotypes. Boys like blue, girls like pink. Boys have short hair, girls have long hair. Boys where shorts and trousers, girls wear dresses and skirts. Today I am wearing entirely blue, including some blue striped jeans, and am deciding what to do with my newly washed short hair. This does not make me a boy, this makes me a girl.

I also feel like when I’m walking around people judge me purely on the fact that I look like a man and am “OBVIOUSLY A LESBIAN!” (as I frequently hear shouted in my direction). I am a daughter, grand daughter, friend, enemy, ex, work colleague, volunteer, aggressive driver giving you the finger (as in my middle finger, this is not a sex reference!), lover, admirer of cats, photographer, drunken karaoke singer, the person that tells you that you’ve dropped your wallet and the person that holds a door open for you, the person who slips over in public and laughs hysterically at their own stupidity. I am a lot of things as well as a lesbian.

But some people can’t seem to see past this. Let’s say that I work at a hotel, I don’t but it’ll do for the purpose of this example. A couple of months ago we had a coach load of people visiting who had never been to the hotel before. They were meeting up with a company that often come to the hotel. As this was an important occasion I had donned my usual function clothes; a pair of black trousers, white shirt, floppy (FEMININE!) black tie and a black waistcoat (that doesn’t really fit, that reminds me – I need to get a new one…). Within minutes I was having jokes about my sexuality and gender made right in front of me. Now this is at work, a place where I usually feel comfortable to be who I am; thanks to my colleagues who have literally no problem about me being gay. What I found most insulting was that our usual customers were using my gender and sexuality as conversation topics as they never usually mention it at all. Thankfully, it was all dealt with and I received an apology.

I guess what I’m trying to say is this: unless you know who I am or what I deal with on a day to day basis or know what gender I am or what sexuality I am or what kind of person I am don’t assume anything. Because when it boils down to it, I am a human and nothing more.

Before anything, I am a blogger.

I know I’ve done quite a few photography posts recently and whilst they’ve been well received I’ll be going back to more written ones as of tomorrow but will be chucking in the odd photograph that I think you’ll like to see.

I am yet to write the really big post that I’ve been meaning to get up as, quite frankly, it was getting me down but it will be up TOMORROW (probably) even if it’s not what I originally hoped it to be. I don’t expect the hype will be worth it but it’s something that I’ve been meaning to write so it’ll be good to get it off my chest.

You shall hear me from tomorrow when I shall reveal one of my deepest posts yet. And you thought I was deep and thoughtful already. Pah. 🙂