Your wanted on the ward.

n the early 70s when I was working in a hospital lab in London I had a girlfriend who was a sister in one of the large hospitals in the city. After work I wanted to pick her up from the hospital to go to a prom.

Now in those days patient visiting hours was very strict and restricted to a few hours a day. Any public found wandering about 'after or before hours' was confronted and escorted to the nearest exit. To get round this I took my white lab coat in a plastic bag entered the hospital slipped into the toilets put it on and could then go anywhere I pleased within reason, without the beady eyes of security seeing something amiss.
This worked quite well, I made my way to the nurse's quarters without hindrance, knocked on her door and entered. She was still in uniform which surprised me. It turned out she had to do a further two hours as a colleague was sick. I decided to stay and wait for her. We would still make the second half of the concert in time. A quick peck on the cheek and she was off.
So I waited, there was plenty to read lying about, mostly girl magazines which where nothing new to me, so I browsed. Finally I got bored and so started to look around. I noticed she had a spare uniform hanging in the wardrobe. I got very interested as I brought it out and held it against me and looked in the mirror.
The only dressing I had done was at home and that was some time ago as none of my mothers clothes fitted me anymore. (see If the dress fits..).

This was an opportunity I just couldn’t pass up! Fortunately she had the room to herself so I knew I would not be interrupted for a good hour. I locked the door and went looking for a pair of the standard black tights. Going through the draws I found plenty of other things that caught my attention but I had a mission! Eventually I found a pair. And why did I even contemplate trying the uniform on? Well there was a good chance it would fit as we were both roughly the same size, apart from her bust which I could not in any way compete with.

I took a glance at the clock and took the plunge. I removed my outer garments got carefully into the tights and donned the uniform. The uniform even had its own upside down watch pinned to it.

I had 70s hair which was down to my shoulders to the distain of my father (not that it bothered me), and so to get the right effect I pinned it up the best I could and then added the cap. I admired myself in the mirror and imagined going on duty to the wards, taking pulses using the pinned watch and sticking thermometers in openings of my choice. After a few walk-a-rounds looking at myself from different angles, I took another look at the clock and quickly turned back into civil, carefully storing everything away again.

I must say girls don’t have it easy getting ready in uniform especially with long hair. I was tempted to use some of her lipstick but I may have made a mess and couldn’t risk it. Not long afterwards she returned got changed and we were off.

I didn’t get any indication that she had cottoned on.
Unfortunately the opportunity didn’t arise again. 
That was a really wow experience and I still think of it 40 plus years on!


To the pictures:
The one on the left is a ward sister (in blue) and a student nurse in the 1970s. The other picture on the right is of nurses from the hospital in the 1980s with the appropriate tights.
Please note: None of the girls in the pictures are either my girlfriend or myself..
(sigh..)

Pink Prom Dress – III – Twinkle, twinkle, little star...

hile writing up the other two parts of this pink post, a nursery rhyme came to mind.


Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are.
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.

The first two lines made think of a chain of incidents connected to the prom dress concerning sequins, glitter and other ‘twinkles’. As I started to put it down I realised that it was becoming rather long to integrate it into the main story, so I thought I better make a separate post out of it.
But first a little about detection. If, as in my case, the other half is not aware that their partner goes fem when the chance arises, then leaving telltales around the house or on ones person can be at least awkward, if not disastrous. One has to make sure there are no perfume smells lingering around you and the house. No misplaced panties or tights that turn up uninvited on wash day and no traces of eyeliner in the corner of the eye or varnish in the corner of a nail.
[Ed: see Twilight Zone: Nails II for a close call.]
Following an ‘Abi session’ I check myself in the mirror to see if there are any traces of Abi visible. Usually if anything then it would be lipstick and a little powder. In my days working in medical labs I had to make sure nothing was allowed to contaminate my cultures. Here I have to make sure that nothing leaves the cellar other than me, well and truly de-con-tam-Abi-nated.
Well one day, as hinted on in part II, something did leave the cellar and 'the one with the eagle eyes' found it. A speck of 'twinkle', a rogue sequin that must have hitched a ride on my person out of the cellar and into the washroom where it unhitched itself fell to the floor and scurried off ..
[Ed:?]
Ok rolled..
[Ed:??]
Ok ok, too light to roll, then just lay there twinkling..
[Ed: ✔ ]

Now what made me jump, apart from her coming stealth-like up behind me in the cellar and saying quite loudly "Look what I found!!" was that, on turning round being presented directly under my nose on the end of an upturned index finger a red sequin of pink prom dress fame!
As I starred at it, a part of me mind said ‘Oh bugger!’ and the rest started to go into panic overdrive working out possible responses to a range of possible questions that very soon would be uttered from her nibs. Just as I started mentally jotting down a few responses, there came almost verbatim, the question first on my list.
”Now I wonder where that came from?”
To gain a few extra seconds to calm down, I went into loop mode.
“Where did you find it?”
“In the washroom”,
“In the washroom??”,
“Yes, in the washroom!”,
“Now, how did it get there!(?)”,
”That's what I asked!!!”,
“Oh! So it was ...ah .. really I have no idea..”
And before she could start to self-speculate I blurted out..
“Maybe it's from one of the Christmas boxes where the old Christmas cards are stored. I was clearing out making room for the new ones we got this year. You know with some of those cheap cards you only have to look at them and they lose their glitter and stuff, it gets everywhere! Maybe it got rubbed off while I was sorting out. I had emptied the boxes completely and repacked them again and probably it fell out and got stuck to me foot or something..”
 

Now this scenario was rather a good one as Christmas and the New Year were just over and I had decided to have a proper clear out before packing everything away again and storing it in the attic. Apart from the fact that over the years sequins were the last thing I had seen stuck on Christmas cards the story was quite plausible.
I took the sequin from her and pretended to scrutinise it under the light. I was trying not to show it but I was still in panic mode following the third degree from 'eagle eyes'. This was quite reasonable because I thought I had found all of the twinkles that had detached themselves while handling and wearing the prom dresses! Not only that since the middle of November I hadn't unpacked, let alone worn it. This was nearly two months before this blighter turned up!

[Ed: If you haven't read part II, then dresses in the plural and not dress in the singular may confuse somewhat.]

Exhibit a

I'll recap to the prom dress sessions in November but skip over the ordering, trying on, frustration, sending back, reordering, trying on again and finally packing it away for a rainy day. What happened between ‘frustration’ and ‘sending back’ was I found a large 'twinkle' under a chair (see Exhibit a).

Ok I wasn't that concerned until I saw it had two fastening holes for sowing it on. I suspected I had caught myself in it and ripped it off while getting in or out of the dress. I blamed myself that I should have been more careful with a dress of this type and not as usual been in hectic mode as with all Abi sessions.
 

Exhibit b

I went in search of the gaping hole it must have left in the bodice, but for the life of me I couldn't find it! Much to my relief as I had by this time decided to return it and go for a smaller size. What I did find when looking for the hole was that a few of the little stuck-on twinkle stones decided to become unstuck by just looking at them (see Exhibit b).

As I was going to pack it for returning anyway, this was a good opportunity to not produce any more contamination of the cellar through what I thought was spontaneous shedding. After packing and stashing out of sight, which took quite some ingenuity using the original bag and a complete roll of brown duct tape, I went in search for any other twinkling debris.
 

Exhibit c

I started with long range scans: walking around head down looking for tell-tale twinkling under the halogen lights followed by short range scans: down on me knees nose to the carpet with my trusty magnifying glass sleuth like. To my astonishment I found quite a few sequins (see Exhibit c) and a few more now unstuck stuck-on twinkles of Exhibit b type. 

I put away my little collection and vacuum cleaned the cellar to the astonishment of MrsA. Who because of the noise had come down and asked what I was doing. I just gave her a blank look and indicated the cleaner. As it was now obvious that a wonder had happened, she promptly turned and disappeared upstairs. I hoped this out of character manoeuvre would remove any twinkles I had overlooked.
That was that, so I thought.
Well it was until that red rogue sequin was rubbed under my nose months later.

One evening while I was rummaging around in the cellar not long after the nose rubbing incident which ended with us parting in silence, I through I saw just inside my peripheral vision a flicker of light coming from the floor. I moved slowly around in long scan mode hoping it wasn’t what I thought it was until it twinkled again.

I was immediately down on my knees in short range mode and grabbed it before it could disappear into the carpet. It was an Exhibit c type twinkle - the dreaded sequin! Having my mobile in my pocket I documented the procedure. I’ve marked the culprit in the first picture followed by a close up. I added it to the collection hoping it was now complete, although I had the feeling it wasn’t.

Sometime in February as I was again rummaging around in the cellar ‘eagle eyes’ entered swooped down and again presented me with a repeat of
“Look what I just found!”
adding
“Have we gremlins around here that deposit these things to annoy us!!?”
All I could think of was ‘Oh no, not again!’ and the famous bowl of petunias. She left with a bewildered look and nothing more, no speculation nothing. I didn’t want to press it, so I left it at that.
I didn’t even get it for the collection..
Well a couple of weeks ago a repeat performance with the famous finger and my nose. I’m not sure what play she is rehearsing at the moment but her appearance was quite dramatic!
I really don’t understand this. I’m almost every day in the cellar and even with my eyes to the floor so as not to keep bumping into things lying around, I see nothing in the twinkle dept! And on the rare occasions when she comes in to see what I’m up to, promptly she finds one!
This time she added a critical full frontal scan of my features.
“Is there a conspiracy going on here?”
The question was straight between the eyes and had nothing rhetorical about it.
 
I just stood there gob smacked, mind a blank having no idea how to react. My shoulders when up in auto mode and I made a lot effort to at least shake my head in disbelief. Before I could even start to rack my brains for an answer it was about turn and she was off. Again nothing was said. But as she went up the stairs I though I heard a low, almost inaudible mumbled chant. All I could make out was I think the word ‘double’ and maybe ‘trouble’ and I could swear with a Scottish accent..
 
Around the time of this sighting of the third kind as I was putting the other two parts of the post together, I was selecting and resizing the pictures I wanted to include. As I didn’t have the dress to hand I looked at the pictures and realised that I couldn’t see any sequins on the bodice! Examples of Exhibits a and b, but not c. Had I been panicking up the wrong tree? Maybe the sequins had another source! I decided to get to the bottom of it.

[Ed: If instead of panicking you had looked at the other pictures of the dress you would have seen the sequins in the skirt.]
True, But I hadn’t, and hence the following..
I had to wait until I was alone for a few hours, and made a bee line straight to my stash and systematically went through the boxes looking for the prom dress and of course Murphy was throwing his law about again and it was in the last one. Along the way I had the chance to check all my glitter/sequin sources.
 

My Dorothy Perkins heels were a classical source for spreading glitter about. Every time I handled them my hands were contaminated. I washed them of course but it was bound to happen sometime that MrsA saw a twinkle on the back of a hand and went for it. It looked like glitter makeup which it wasn’t as I don’t have any. The Christmas card trick wouldn’t work due to the time of year, but my backup was birthday cards and I got away with it.
 

Ok no sequins. Next I found my pink heels, the ones I used to go with the prom dress. Here were sequins in pink, not red, and they felt and looked like they were sown on pretty tight, so no loss here.
I moved on.
 

A pair of orange platform sandals bought in a fit of ‘anything orange’. A time when I was orange mad which has moved on to the current madness – Mint (see my pin boards). The heels have a bit of glitter and are totally unwalkable. Not the height or the platforms alone but just no control. One slides around in them all over the place and rarely in the direction one wants to go! A professional walker could probably do them justice, I can’t.
 

And then the last box right at the back and in the corner. I opened and there at the top my mint dress with sequins and mini twinkles, I had wondered where it had got to. Again no red in sight.
 

I dug deep and there it was, my precious. I removed it from its outer bag and very carefully opened the inner transparent bag just enough to get a proper look at the skirt without it exploding into full size. And there they were, red sequins strung out like a peal necklace. 
I took a closer look and could see no fastening as such; it looked like they were just kept there sandwiched between two layers of the material. I could not see how they could get lose without a hole in one of the layers. It look like the examples that had escaped were from the making of the dress and had hitched a ride in the packing and not unhitched themselves from the dress through wearing it. 

As I was closing the inner bag I spotted just inside the bag seal a twinkle getting ready to jump to freedom! I went for it but on opening my fingers it was gone! I sighed, packed everything away and went into search mode again. Thankfully I found it almost at once, directly under where I had opened the bag. I grabbed my mobile and took a few pictures zooming in on it. 
The first picture doesn’t show much but it is there. Next at a slightly different angle and a bit closer, now one can see the twinkle. 
The third picture a close up before digging it out and adding it to my collection.
So that’s it! No more ‘sightings’. No more nose rubbings. And to date no more prom dress sessions to get fully dressed and see how it really fits. When I get the chance to go pink again, then I’ll let you know about it. Also I can then check my theory if my collection of twinkles was from the packaging or directly from wearing the dress.

Following the experience with twinkles & Co.
the following came to mind.

Twinkle, twinkle, little stone,
Fallen from a pink dress I own,
In the cellar out of sight,
Until eagle eyes turns on the light.

A day ‘in’ shopping

little recap, I buy all my girl clothes exclusively by the global store called On-Line Inc. That is except for rare occasions in the pre–on-line era where I would pluck up my courage and buy stockings / pantyhose and sometimes lipsticks in stores a long way from home.

On-Line buying started early ‘14 as I got to grips with social networking and creating avatar-ic like e-mail accounts. I soon realised I could send all my purchases to work, drive home with them in the boot of the car, and when the coast was clear smuggle them into the house and down into the cellar.
Well until the end of last year that is, but more on that later.

When I started buying On-Line ..

[Ed: Please note dear reader that when she talks about ‘On-Line’ this is only to do with shopping exclusively for ‘her’ and not ‘him’. He goes way back and was quite active, that is until madam licked blood and changed his passwords.]

.. Amazon was the only site I had an account for. In the early days I was rather reluctant to flash my credit card and details about with other stores. I use to browse the on-line shopping stores quite regularly, mostly at work and of course only in my ‘spare time’. Later I branched out and added some high street stores which had larger collections in my size with reasonable prices.

You can pay the earth for some very lovely dresses but I would only be wearing them in the confinements of the house, so I held back. With shoes I’m glad I have a size that limits me in buying lots of them. For quick browsing on my dedicated ‘Abi-iPad’ I have search profiles bookmarked for various stores like Newlook (mainly for shoes) and Zalando, ASOS, Navabi for clothes.
 
 With Amazon I try and restrict myself to prime. That is selling and post & packaging and not just where Amazon carries out p&p logistics. With prime any mishaps that occurred I got all my money back. You pay a little extra up front on the article but it's worth it in the long run and up a relative low limit the p&p is free...

[Ed: Free? There is no such thing as ‘free’. How often do you browse like mad looking for articles to top up the shopping basket to save on p&p and end up way over the limit?]

Ok, yes I do ‘top up’ as you say, usually with something from the makeup counter, a lipstick then a polish to match and then look for earrings that match then .. ok, point taken .. 
As said I stick to Amazon Prime as far as possible and try to steer clear from Amazon’s market place due a number of ‘problems’ in the past. If I do find something that looks like a bargain, then there are a few things I look at and out for before hitting the buy button. 
Such as:
The amount of p&p.
You're probably not going to get back the p&p if the article has to go back for whatever reason. From my experience you’re going to get lumbered with the return costs as well.

For example, I bought a pair of Andres Machado heels via Amazon. The shoe price was reasonable and also the p&p. It looked like they would come direct from an outlet of the manufacturer so I saw no problem with ordering. I have a few pairs from them that fit well and are quite walkable. This pair was in my size and the style more sandal like than the others and as I hadn’t any sandals at that time I went for it.

Well, I couldn’t get them on let alone stand and walk in them! The model was either labelled wrong or someone had a bad day when designing them.
I decided to send them back. On printing the return label I saw that the return address was the HQ of the manufacturer in Spain! I got my money back for the shoes but not the p&p when buying and the return p&p costs. The result, the total p&p was almost the price of the shoes! I had in effect paid for them in shipment costs but didn’t have them to even look at let alone wear!

Seller location and their review profile history.

The location of the seller can be decisive (as in the return above!). Always check where they are. Sometimes you need to put the article in your basket before the correct link of the seller appears. China usually means long waiting times (if not forever). A problem in general with far eastern manufactures, when looking at the reviewer’s complaints, is the size discrepancies. Here you can forget the so called international standard conversion charts (you can usually forget them anyway!). The label sizes they give are often at least two sizes too small for westerner wearers. That’s ok for people in mid-range sizes who read the reviews, they know they can compensate for this when buying, but for a big girl like me that means I end up way off the scale and a frustrating no go! 

Having said that I did once order a Chinese product. This was a waist clincher. I decided to apply Abi logic to this: If the Chinese sizes are always too small and the clinchers job is to squeeze and give the appearance of a smaller size then there is a good chance it should fit and I can still breathe! And as it was only £6 I ordered it. 

Well eventually it did arrive and going by the state the package it looked like it had been half way around the world.
Which on reflection it had..

I totally forgot I had ordered it until I received an email in Chinese via Amazon. I could see from the layout it was flight information as there were times in 24 hour format and international 3 letter airport codes for Frankfurt and Beijing sprinkled in between the pictograms. As my Cantonese was nowhere in sight I threw it at the Google translator. It was only informing me about the future arrival of the clincher in Germany and not as I suspected that I had to go to Frankfurt to pick it up. After sitting around in customs gathering dust for 3 weeks someone eventually decided to clear their desk and it ended up on my desk a week later. The package was a mess, dirty with grime and a sprinkling of Frankfurter customs dust...

[Ed: How can you be certain about the dust coming from Frankfurt? Did you have the package analysed?]

No my dear Watson I did not. The grime was all over the package, even my address, but not over the customs label and stamp. Therefore the grime was before Frankfurt. The dust covered the complete package stuck mostly to the grime but still present on the customs label.
Therefore the dust was of German origin not Chinese. The journey times I took from the partly readable smears on the tattered sad looking object.
Ok?

[Ed: Yes, I suppose, totally unnecessary that last analytical bit but it’s not my blog. By the way I should remind you that you wanted to report on buying a pink prom dress, but you’ve gone off, as is your wont, at a tangent before getting round to it.]

Yes your right, almost forgot about why I started this post. Maybe more about this next time. What thinks you?

[Ed: Me thinks as I said, it’s your blog. I don’t think you needed to plug the ‘Pee Pee Dee’ here so that someone will read the next post. Anyway the title will have the words ‘Pink’, ‘Prom’ and ‘Dress’ in it and that should be enough to get people interested.] 
 
Yes, and some candid snap shots as well…

[Ed: Pictures! Now as your editor I’m not sure …]

Let’s get on please! You can look through the numerous bad quality shots I took, while I will end here with one last antidote and then I’ll dedicate myself to the task of trying to analyse why I bought the ‘PPD’ as you call it, in the first place and the trouble I had. So for now one last story from a online shopping junkie..

Article 'very cheap' plus p&p ‘on the high side’ could = a scam.

Again shoes and Amazon market place with a slightly different outcome. I found a nice pair of heels, this time on Amazon UK. As it was UK I usually check first to see if they are offering them here in Germany which would save exchange rates (£2€) and usually some p&p. Well I couldn’t find them so I went back to the UK site. P&p was a bit high but combined with the low price of the shoes result reasonable. I ordered and they arrived two days later which I thought was pretty quick for the UK.

So far so good.

I opened and checked the invoice, the company name was the same as on the web but the address was from a town only a 30 minute drive from my office! I checked the postage and read off 4.50€ and not the £15 postage I had paid up front! If that was not bad enough the shoes were labelled 2 sizes smaller than I had ordered and were way too small!

I sniffed fowl play!

All manner of scenarios went through my head each one adding to my raised blood pressure. They ranged from; so sorry it was totally unintentional and will be cleared up in no time, that’s your problem matey not mine! Up to organised shoe criminality on an international scale. After I had calmed down a bit I rang the owner directly instead of opening email communication via Amazon. Steering clear of the p&p differences I hit the German seller (in English of course) with the wrong size problem. He was apologetic and asked me to return the shoes and of course I would get my money back. The return costs were nothing like the original p&p.

Again so far so good, I would get something back at least.

Now what? Would this be just the shoe money or everything? At this stage the question was while still on the phone do I mention the p&p? Maybe it would be included but I wasn’t sure. I decided to leave it. If the p&p was not included I would ring again and give him an ear full along the lines of as he had sent the wrong shoes it was his fault not mine and therefore I should get all the p&p back including the return costs.
Well as I suspected only the money for the shoes was returned.
After a couple of calls and some hints to why the size could have been ‘incorrect’, the seller saw the errors of his ways and in the end I got everything back. Maybe finding out I was ‘just round the corner’ may have had something to do with it.
The hint I made with the ‘incorrect’ size was that before calling again I found in the net that this model was not made in the size the seller had advertised!
Now how much was a scam or just incompetence I will not like to say. It’s interesting that the seller was only advertising certain shoes in extra-large sizes in the UK and not here in Germany. Either he thought the Brits all had big feet or speculated that maybe someone in the UK would be reluctant to contact a German based seller about declamations.

[Ed: I hope you’re keeping track of that ‘later’ at the beginning because I’m certainly not!].

Your right, a lot happened in the second half of 2016 that has kept me away from posting. I finally go round to selling the companies and hit retirement at the end of the year. It sounds like the work should have eased off and more free time as the year came to an end, but just the opposite I was working like mad up to midnight on my last day (looking back I’m not sure why, but I was!).
I turned off my computer and listened, nothing, I was all alone. I left the building and locked up as usual as if I would be back the next day. Pretty weird I must say when you come to realise with a mild surprise that a major phase of your life has ended and a less hectic and stressful phase is about to begin. Well now after a month at home I have the feeling I have less time than before!
I think I will need to collect more data to support this or not, will report.

Retirement has had consequences also for my stash. It means I don’t have a ‘post box’ for Abi’s clothes & Co to be sent to any more. My company was not only the arrival area but also the try out and send back area if on the rare occasions the item didn’t fit.

As I mentioned in past posts I could use the long corridor evenings as a catwalk to ‘break in’ my heels while at the same time trying not to break an ankle. Well that’s all over, no more evening wobbly walks.
And no more listening out for approaching staff while trying on dresses and shape wear in a cramped cubicle in the rest room.

[Ed: Are you going to miss it all?]

Yes, I think I really will.

My First Heels

[Ed: As Madam is tied up (no not like that) with work these last weeks with no time to chat or post (apologies to all I hear in the background), she asked me to go through her notes and find something of interest for you to read. On trying to encipher her jottings I came across this story concerning her first pair of heels and how they were acquired. I asked if I should let it lose on the world. She was affirmative to this, as she was going to follow-up on the note she made on her Heel Collection page anyway.]

[Ed. So here it is.]

One holiday in the early 80s we were in the near from a town called Street in Somerset, the HQ of the shoe company Clarks with their so-called ‘village’. The town was just full of shoe shops and as MrsA took then, as now, every opportunity to look for shoes we spent ages checking out one shop after another. The only consolation after walking miles wearing out the ‘souls’ of our shoes looking for new ones was being allowed to go mad in a bookshop buying a backlog of 15 Terry Pratchet paperbacks.

[Ed: Checking my log this was 1982 and they hadn’t been back for quite some time and the founder of Amazon was still at high school.]

You may say that it is normal for a girl to constantly scan the shoescape, but in the case of MrsA it’s also very frustrating, as she has very small feet (2-3 UK) and finding something that looks good and fits is for her a nightmare. Usually when she is occupied rummaging around in the small sizes, I’m sent off to buy at least one pair of men’s shoes (boring) so that she doesn’t get a guilty conscience when she, on the rare occasion, finds something to take home for herself.

So when I’m told to do my own rummaging, I am always on the lookout for heels in my size, 43EU/9UK (not so boring but equally frustrating). It’s an almost hopeless situation in a "normal" shoe shop, but I look anyway. In the 80s I really don’t remember seeing anything in large sizes, these days either women’s feet are getting bigger or the manufactures and outlets are getting in on the needs of girls like us who would have to look to ‘special’ shops on- and off-line. Things are getting more liberal and these days ‘a sale is a sale’ whoever their for.

After countless shoe shops we entered a small long dingy establishment. MrsA stayed at the front in daylight and I slowly wandered to the back and there in the gloom bathed in a ray of light from a single window I saw them! It was like a vision, imagine something like the blessing / god sequence from Monty P’s Holy Grail - I didn't hear the choirs, but near enough! There on a well past its sell-by date discarded display case was a pair of black patent leather court shoes with four inch heels.
I could not believe it; they looked like they could fit! 
I started to get nervous.
So often in the past my excitement was dashed when I looked at the size. Usually 2 sizes too small and the only way I would have been able to put them on, let alone walk, was with serious toe bending!
I took a deep breath and turned them slowly over.
They were 7.5UK! Was I dreaming? That’s the largest I’d seen in a long time. But something was not quite right. 7.5UK was my boy size equivalent to a 9UK girl size, but as before they really looked like they could fit! Could they be sitting here banned to the backroom because of some production glitch? 

Just then MrsA startled me by tapping me on the shoulder. I turned round forgetting I had the shoes in my hand. She looked at the shoes and back up to me and asked “Do you want them”? I looked at her dumfounded and then heard the Monty P. choirs! I slowly nodded, without another word she took them out of my hands and went off to the front of the shop to buy them. I could have gone with her but held back being at that moment totally embarrassed, studded and excited all at the same time. I thought it would be better to say out of sight at this stage. The shoes were obviously not for her and I didn’t want the assistant to put 2&2 together. She probably did anyway, MrsA came back for me handed me the bag and we walked out of the shop with my prize clasped tightly in my arms!

I couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel. That evening I tried them on under the scrutiny of MrsA. We had been on our feet most of the day and even in those days I was having problems with my legs and plates, but swollen or not I went for it. I unpacked them and looked them over in detail; they were from Bally (petal), elegant and well made. The 4 inch heel had the angle and shape typical for the style at that time.
[Ed: Dug out this poster from 1982 to add a bit of atmosphere.]

I put them on and in semi-cramped pain I spent ages trying to strap them up. The buckles were to put it mildly on the small side and I was not use to bending over and manipulating anything on the outer side of my feet, an odd feeling I must say having Mrs.A sitting there looking on. After a few under the breath frustrated rude expressions my side, MrsA took pity on me and buckled me up.
I stood; the pain went up a notch. I walked around as best I could as the pain started to migrate towards my squashed toes. After a few wobbly minutes I sat down and when Mrs.A asked how there were, I lied through my teeth and said ‘a bit tight’ but on the whole ‘ok’. I must say I can’t remember much more about the evening only that after removing them we laughed about it, with me throwing in jokingly a few red herrings as not give her the idea I was in heaven with my very own heels!
>As they were ‘a bit tight’, next day it was decided to keep an eye out for other heels in larger sizes. No idea whose idea this was, but I was certainly game! I suspect she read me better than I thought. So for the day we repeated ‘the walking the streets of Street’ scanning for shoes. You can imagine I was in a totally different frame of mind compared to the previous day. MrsA was still looking for shoes for herself, but this time I had a mission! I took every opportunity to ‘officially’ check heels at the other end of the range and I didn’t have to wait until she and everyone else was out of sight!

After a luckless morning we went to the Clarks village and had lunch. I’m not sure when and where we found them; it was not as spectacular as with buying the patent leather ones. As you can see from the picture they were open toe sandals. They were larger than the Bally’s and so didn’t cause the level of pain as before, but they didn’t hold me that well either as I was swimming about too much in them. This made it difficult to walk in as much as I could judge within the confines of the hotel room.
No matter I had now two pairs of heels.

Since then over the last 30 years I had plenty of occasions wearing them when MrsA was not around. They became more comfortable due to the leather forming to my feet. When the opportunity arose I would combine them with tights or stockings from my mini stash. For a brief period we had in the wardrobe two lovely semi-frilly dresses one white and the other black that ‘almost’ fit me. Either MrsA had mistakenly bought them without looking at the labels or she had wanted to give them to someone, obviously not to me as a present, can’t really remember her motive. Luckily the waistbands were elastic and allowed me to pull the dresses up to my waist. The rest was just too small for my statue, although with the white one I got my arms through but my back was fully exposed the zip out of reach and anyway useless. In combination with my heels and stockings I could enjoy the look and feeling for brief periods.
After a few months we talked about them taking up space and she suggested giving them to her niece, I agreed of course, I had no real choice. I don’t think she knew or thought I was ‘wearing’ them at every opportunity and checking to see how I would react. It was just her way to ask me beforehand when giving things away. Anyway they ‘hung’ around awhile before her niece visited and took them.
I missed them a lot. Well over the years the heels stayed out of sight, I think I was too shy / embarrassed to get them out and wear them in full view, what excuse would I have had.

After time I thought she had forgotten about them but it was not so. The only time I had ‘officially’ to wear my black heels after the initial wearing, was an evening at home watching the Rocky Horror Picture Show which had come out on VHS tape. We had gone to the movies to watch it a few times and experience the audience participation with their flashlights, water guns, rice, toilet paper etc. We didn’t ‘dress up’ but had some of the props with us second time round and got into the swing of things. Quite a number of the audience took the opportunity to drag it as the characters, all great fun.
Thinking about this we decided to make an ‘event’ out of viewing the film at home. We would both dress as far as possible like Transylvanians. Well, MrsA reminded me that I had my heels which surprised me some what. Of course officially I had nothing else and so we bought some black stockings. I needed suspenders but we couldn’t find any in my size, so MrsA made me some.
Makeup was no problem and as she had lots of different nail vanishes (like I do now), we painted each other’s fingers in different colours. All this was for me more fun than watching the film! And so we had for a few hours our ‘private’ film showing dressed for the part. We never got round to dressing up again, apart from at Carnival time with classical costumes.
It’s a shame but there it is. I should have hinted in some way, talked about it while the opportunity was there, but typical me I kept silent.

The blue and red heels I threw this year, they were way over the top but I still have the black heels. The leather has, let’s say, ‘matured’ over time, the heel tips have long disintegrated and the buckles just un-do-up-able. But they were my first and I can’t throw them away can I?

Her Stash and Me

ome of you may have caught on from my previous posts that I have my Stash in the cellar. It’s not really hidden (difficult with the volume it takes up, especially the shoes) but is sprinkled between the chaos that is indirect a smoke screen for MrsA as well as the normal chaos that reigns in our cellar. 

This chaos makes it difficult to find something at the best of times and in general it’s not advisable to put a unprotected hand in a box or case without peering in before(-the-)hand, something just might bite back. I won’t say it has Indiana Jones mantraps, or woman traps for that matter, it’s just dangerous if one is not experienced with the landscape, pitfalls… ok traps.  
Wanting to go into the cellar and explore usually means advanced terrain training, a backpack and extensive blood tests upfront.

I will mention again that MrsA is completely in the dark about Abigale. Well, let’s say as far as I can tell that is. We have been together over 40 years and although it’s no guarantee, I think I would have got the vibes about it if she knew. This means I have very little time to dress and become one with the rest of me and enjoy it. 

On the rare occasions I am alone at home, it’s not more that about 4 hours. With a 4 hour stint I try and limit dressing activities to about 2 hours or so, allowing the rest as a ‘Surprise I’m home!’ safety window to follow. This activity window is just not enough time to get completely dressed and un-dressed, the whole works. 
For a boy yes, for a girl with my experience definitely no! Unless, that is, I restrict my activities to one or maybe two aspects of getting ready and then unready. For example the last stint was focused on trying to create a passable bust and cleavage.
 
[Ed: more in a separate post with pictures]
 
I’m quite spontaneous in things I do around the home, usually to the dismay of MrsA, especialy when it comes to clearing up. Something can start off as harmless that ends up as a major (re)construction project. When we were living in an apartment, I got it in my bonnet one year to clear up a 'few things' in the living room late one Sunday. After MrsA had gone to bed in total frustration at 1 in the morning, I was still in full swing rearranging the complete livingroom furniture, just about everything that wasn't nailed down!
[Ed: Moving the piano around the living room after midnight goes down so well with the neighbours living downstairs..]
Very true, especially when the neighbour just happens to be your landlord! 

Another time I took it into my head to spontaneously wallpaper the kitchen on New Year’s Eve with a snowstorm ranging outside. As we could not completely open the window after finishing to remove the almost tropical humid air, we decided to leave it a jar with the kitchen door closed. Bushwhacked we retired for what was left of the night. While slumbering, the temperature dropped dramatically and the window decided to get some freash air. The next morning on entering I went skating across the now ice and snow ladened floor landing in a pile of pots and pans. 

Well in this vain, late one Friday evening I decided to start to clear out the cellar and not just half heartily as for the last few years. Firstly because I just couldn’t stand the mess anymore and secondary I wanted to make space for an Abigale session on the Sunday morning as MrsA had a rehearsal meaning a maximum time slot was on the cards. Well of course it’s easier said than done especially after years of neglect (clearing out not dressing).
You may know the situation: move bits and pieces from A to B, then weeks/months later from B to C, then years/eons later Surprise! One finds the pieces and bits (in a different order) have migrated back to location A of their own accord! 
Well this time I wanted to breakout of this circulus vitiosus and really get things moving direction rubbish tip. So my strategy was to go blindly in and without any real plan just grab and throw.
At first it was like an adrenalin kick, an act of freedom, a weight off .. off something or other. Totally banal things like two dozen power cables from equipment long gone, boxes of indefineable thingamajigs, 386 CPUs, non-recyclable Christmas presents because we forgot to label them with the name of the giver, empty picture frames needing something or someone to frame, round-pined British plugs (in two sizes), heaps of odd chopsticks enough to play Mikado with, bits of IKEA leftovers following an ‘IKEA construction party’ ...
[Ed: IKEA construction party?]
You know.  
Invite all your friends over, give them either a screwdriver or a hammer and leave sets of Alan/Hex keys at strategic locations. Pin the instructions to the wall and while they are distracted - half of them wondering why they need a screwdriver and the other half banging like mad weird looking bolts in ill aligned holes - you leave for the pub and hope they are finished before last orders.

While sorting some of the things brought up the questions 'where in **** did that come from?' or 'Did I buy this? I certainly don’t remember!'. After a time my good intentions started to wane, I could feel myself physically holding back just before letting go and the delay was increasing. 

I try before a clear out session to enter the state of Mushin (no-mind) in preparing to ban any gremlins that may appear like 
‘you know you need to keep this .. this whatever it is’ …
‘you know it may come in handy someday, even if it’s still in the original packing crate from the last move 25 years ago’ …
‘you know if you throw it today, you will find a use for it tomorrow’ … etc. 

Are these thoughts ingrain or are they brought on by being bitten by a hording bug? 

Anyway the point is, when I start such a 'session' I must keep going until I drop or get told off, whatever comes first. As I didn't get told off (Mrs.A was glad I was out of the way, she knew where I was and that I could only get up to limited mischief) and even though I had slowed down in banning bits to the bin, the place was chaos pure by late Saturday evening. 

Sunday morning came and my ‘Abi alone at home’ slot was imminent. I usually try and offer to drive MrsA back and forth to the rehearsals so I can ‘control’ the begin and end of a slot. This allows me the maximum out of it before I get the ‘come and get me’ call. 
Doesn’t always work, as on this morning. Mrs.A wouldn’t have it, she thought she was doing me a favour and had arranged for one of the cast to pick her up. 

I usually get worked up when I know a session is coming. Thinking about what I want to wear and when the time comes trying franticly to find it in my stash boxes. After she left, I went down to the cellar and entered. 
The chaos hit me like a wave, just no space available to really girl it. 
I backed out headed for the kitchen and made myself a cuppa. On looking at the clock I sighed and decided to take my time and just catalogue my stash instead, it was about time to take stock anyway. 
I realised that I had just lost track of things. This is not surprising as some items only see the light of day while unpacking at work and when possible after smuggling them home into the cellar to be stashed. 

I’ll backtrack a little and tell you about my modus operandi when buying stuff for Abi. 
[Ed: She’s off at a tangent again! Watch that your tea doesn’t get cold!]
Ok.
 

Apart from over the counter a few lipsticks and pantyhose in the distant past, I now exclusively order everything on-line. I am envious of all you girls that can go out and buy in whatever mode you are, I just cannot do that. There are a number of reasons and not just shyness, but more on this another time. Buying on-line without having the opportunity to try it on first does bring its problems. 
My first hurdle was finding out what woman’s sizes I was, head to toe. Ok, there are sites that help to get a girl going and ‘conversion’ charts with bust-waist-hip measurements as a guide, but they are ‘only’ a guide. As with most clothing, male or female, the acid test is when trying it on. This means for me after unpacking and a seldom Abi session. 
As I mentioned I have everything sent to my work address, never home. MrsA would catch on quick enough with either asking outright what was in the parcel or from reading the tell-tale labels on them. 
With the stream of parcels arriving at work over the last couple of years from Amazon, Otto, NewLook, etc., I let it be known that I was the central hub for the collective buying craze of my family and friends. Why me and at work? Well the excuse was because there is always someone to open the door on weekdays 07:00 to 19:00 and take in parcels. This is in part true, only I’m the main culprit with buying for Abi and some non Abi stuff for home! 

I’m not that happy with NewLook’s packaging, they stick a short version of the invoice on the outside listing the contents so every nosy person can see what’s within (pic after removal). 
Luckily they don’t put the size on the outside, only with the invoice inside, otherwise the cat would be out of the bag as most of the staff know MrsA and can put two and two together and come up with something other than four... 

With Amazon I usually try to combine things, for example a book or DVD and an Abi garment, make up, wigs etc. My last combi package was a white satin corset and a book (The Thrilling Adventures of Lovelace and Babbage by Sydney Padua). I then unpack the book/DVD (leaving the Abi item in the box) and display it on my desk for anyone who is interested. Any Abi garments I would try on in the restroom when everyone had gone home. 
This works surprisingly well, after a time my regular parcel intake became routine and less interesting to the rest of the staff. It got to the point that any Amazon parcels automatically landed on my desk even if they weren’t for me! 
One time I just happened to be at the front desk when a parcel arrived. As I was signing for it, the courier realised it was for me. He was overjoyed that at last he could thank me personally in the name of himself, wife and kids for helping to keep him employed over the last year! I was a little taken back and thought he was taking the mickey, but I couldn’t see this from his face, he just smiled, I reciprocated, he turned and left leaving me wondering what that was all about. 
I know I buy a lot of stuff, but keeping courier families above the breadline is carrying it bit far!

With Amazon & Co they use plastic bags for clothes which is not a problem, but with NewLook (UK), they use them for heels (I forgot to say, the bag above has my latest heels (3 pairs) they arrived today!). This has lead more than once to the heels of the shoes working their way through their own packaging and out through the outer bag! I usually order 3 or more pairs at once, so I get the P&P free.
 
[Ed: well that’s her excuse!]
 

One day I got back from lunch and found my latest order on my desk. As I picked the bag up and turned it over there were two holes each with a high heel poking through! One was a 4 inch black stiletto (left) and the other, a 6 inch beige (right) with the hole large enough to see the whole heel, it’s a wonder the order survived the transport! 
If the person who put the bag on my desk had ‘manhandled’ the bag a while (there was enough time from the front desk to my office) and took a peek into the larger hole they would realise the shoes where not for small feet (e.g. MrsA). If the penny has dropped in the office I have had no hints. Knowing my staff if they got wind of my collection they would probably want a demonstration on an improvised catwalk! 

When an ‘Abi-order’ arrives I usually can’t concentrate that well on my work. I end up waiting for the day to end and hoping all the staff get off home on time, so I can try on the garment or heels. Sometimes one or two of them work late as they have to prepare for being on the road or in the air the next day. I then have to weigh up either holding out till the office is empty or going home with or without my ‘prizes’ and hope for better luck the next day. 

If I get impatient I can usually smuggle small items into the restroom cubical and try them on, hoping I’ve picked the right size. If they don’t fit I can then repackage and bring it to the post or collection point the next day. 
Shoes are more difficult to smuggle but when I do I can try them on for ‘fitness’, but the real test is to try and walk in them and not just stand around wobbling about or not. In this case I would leave them at work until a free evening to walk them ‘in’ on the offices’ 45 meter long corridor and wear them at my desk working late into the night.
 
[Ed: Working late? You mean either hanging out, pinning pins or writing your posts all with your heeled feet up on the desk!]
A girl has to have fun now and then… 

So after trying out the clothes and shoes it’s either repacking the items for sending back, rare but has happened. Or working out how to smuggle the new arrivals all at once, or in stages, home to the ‘safety’ of the cellar. This is not always easy to manage; sometimes the item(s) would have to stay in the car boot until I got the opportunity allowing me to make a ‘dash with my new stash’. 

And so after coming full circle we are now back in the cellar and my tea is cold ...
 
[Ed: I told you! I’ll go upstairs and brew a new pot; you get on with cataloguing]
 
Ok, so where to start?
Well, I decided to close my eyes and with a sweep of my arms I cleared a table ignoring the clatter of indefinable objects as they hit the floor. Luck was on my side no shattering of broken glass. 

I have 4 medium sized (18”x18”x12”) (audio monitor boxes from my studio) for clothes and 2 classical plastic storage boxes (20”x16”x8”) where I store makeup and wigs and about half of my heels. The rest of my heels have their own individual boxes (see right. For a full catalogue with pictures check out under the sidebar 'Side Show' ‘My Heel Collection’).

I would rather have all my heels each to their own box, but that’s not practical, I’ve reached a critical point where anymore ‘shoe’ boxes turning up would bring them onto MrsA’s radar. The ones in boxes take up quite a lot of space but are much better than in plastic bags stuffed all together. 
I have from work ex-envelope boxes that are ideal for high heels which need almost square shaped boxes compared to heel-less flats (see above and left).

Some of the heels as with my Dorothy Perkins came in their own boxes (see right). Of course clear storage boxes would be better for each pair. Or the ultimate storage; a dedicated wardrobe unit for them in full display all in rows! And all my dresses hanging as they should be in easy reach..
 
[Ed: Ok, ok keep your wig on! There is very little chance that this will happen as you know.]
Yes true, it’s a lovely dream though.

Here some of my heel boxes stacked to be stashed.
So I took the first storage box and systematically started to rummage. I sorted under-wear and shape-wear from the over-wear. Colours together if I could and packed it all under pressure again back into the boxes but with method (the creases ugh!).
With the heels I checked each box for content and noted the relocation co-ordinates. I didn’t mark them in any way with content just in case they got exposed to MrsA eagle eye. Even just numbering them was not on. I think I am a little paranoid with this.

RFID tagging came to mind as Sheldon does with his socks, but that was too much of a hassle, I have other high tech gadgets to play with. After packing everything again I reluctantly pushed the storage and shoe boxes even higher and deeper into the darker regions of the cellar and barricaded it all in with heavy almost unmovable objects. The shoes that came in their own boxes (see the two red ones at the top of the stack in the picture) I stashed right at the back.

This means in future it will take longer to get to anything than it did before, even though I now know roughly where to look. Maybe it’s just frustration or due to something deeper. Maybe clearing up = less chaos = more chance of MrsA coming across something. I must say it is all rather depressing, this secrecy whittles away at one. 
As the stuff I buy is quickly sold out, I usually backup a picture of the item from the on-line store so I know what and where I bought them. Not for cosmetics of course, they don’t normally have a ‘size’ that would go out of stock within days. As I had the opportunity, I took pictures of the heels which I could not find again in the net (see collection). 

It was high time to ‘get it all out’ and at least look and handle it all again and of course get mega frustrated about not having the chance to really wear it for longer than an hour or so, if that.

Well the couple of hours went by quickly and I was just finished storing the pictures I took to file, when the front door opened and MrsA was home.
I am now up to-date on what I have hidden away. Interesting that there were few surprises, which surprised me as I just can’t for the life of me remember what boy clothes I have and I open the wardrobe daily!


It looks like I have a different relationship to my girl clothes than my boys.

Well the cellar is still in chaos mode, will slowly make room to be able to walk in a straight line in my heels instead of the slalom I have at the moment. 

I was going to list my stash here, but thought it would be better, as mentioned above, I have put a page under my ‘Side Show’ area for the heel collection with pictures, stats and a comment.
[Ed: What about the rest of your wardrobe?]
I might get round to making a separate short list under ‘Clothes & Co.’ for the rest when I have time. 
But for now it's grab a pair of my new heels, see if the coast is clear and make a dash for the restroom..