#TransDocFail

(In reference to the #TransDocFail 'campaign')
There's no way I can boil my experiences with the NHS to just 140 words so here is the full story to date...

Things started in the Spring of 2009. I saw my GP and explained that I believed I had gender dysphoria and thus wanted to have counselling to help me come to terms with what was troubling me. At that appointment she offered me hormones(!) which I said I didn’t want and said she’d organise some counselling for me. Months passed and nothing happened and because nothing happened I had to fund my own counselling at £40 ph which turned out to be counterproductive as my counsellor suggested my dysphoria was in fact internalised homophobia.
Not having any confidence that my counsellor was deluded or had overstepped the boundaries of a professional counsellor, I continued this counselling for ten sessions until May 2009 when I stopped seeing him and went back to my GP to ask again about NHS counselling – which is when she confirmed that she had forgotten to ask for counselling for me but would get it sorted this time.
However, I was again left to fend for myself and things came to a head and I started cross-dressing (androgynously) full-time.
During the summer of 2009, as I have “club feet” and problems with my ankles, I contacted my local NHS Foundation Trust’s Disablement Centre to arrange to have footwear made to help with my disability.
For every appointment with the Centre, I presented as female and stated that I wished to be referred to by my female name, “Claire”. I state “every appointment” as, despite asking them to amend my records and change my name, they never did so. So for every appointment I received a letter in the post and was referred to during my appointments by my male name, which was deeply embarrassing considering, as I say, I was presenting as the female I believed I was. Furthermore, I was pulled aside by the manager of the Centre after one of my appointments and was questioned about my presentation and received the explanation that they could not change my records, refer to me as female or use my female name without a Deed Poll evidencing the change of name (which I subsequently found out goes against guides for good practice). I was thus glad when I got my footwear and was not required to visit the Centre any more.
In October 2009 I was glad to receive a home visit from a mental health nurse who promised to “fast track” me as I had already waited so long. However, this promise appeared laughable when I received a letter shortly after promising a 4 to 5 month wait for NHS counselling! So I decided to fund my own counselling again, this time with a specialist gender counsellor in Salford (which is a 60 mile round trip from my home).
This counselling continued until February 2010 when, approx. 1 year after asking, I received a letter promising NHS counselling in March 2010.
I had asked for – and been promised - a counsellor with Gender Identity Dysphoria expertise but I guess they must be scarce on the NHS as my counsellor didn’t even understand what I was talking about! She did, though, help me come to terms with what was troubling me so I am happy to vouch for the success of NHS counselling (it’s just the waiting time and inherent expense, both mentally and financially, of that waiting time that I find bothersome).
Thus, having come to terms with the fact that I was a transsexual, I realised I needed to put myself on the “gender reassignment pathway”.
Which reminds me – I had sought NHS funding for laser hair removal in February 2010 but was denied said funding on the premise that I was not at that time on the “gender reassignment pathway”. To this day I can not fathom out why laser hair removal on the face should rely on the willingness to have my genitals removed and find such a condition on funding little less than barbaric! I also found out subsequently that, even if I had been on the “gender reassignment pathway”, funding would not have been guaranteed.
Thus, finding my facial hair intensifying my unhappiness, I had to self-fund my laser hair removal – treatment that I still continue to this day, 2 and a half years later (at an average of £100 a session!).
So, going back to July 2010, I asked my GP to refer me to a GIC and waited…
In August 2010, I realised I could no longer live androgynously and transitioned to live full-time as the female I believed I was. Doing so made me realise I needed speech therapy and so, in October 2010, I went to my GP and asked for her to refer me to an NHS speech therapist.
Also in October 2010, I finally got to see a psychiatrist who, hopefully, would refer me to a GIC and I could get the help I so desperately needed.
In that meeting, he seemed incredibly distracted and nervous by my presence and hardly asked me any meaningful questions at all – a point Charing Cross GIC seemed to confirm when we first met and commented that my notes were somewhat lacking in detail – but I left that meeting feeling reassured that my referral was a mere formality… if only that had been true!
In November 2010, having received no information in the 6 weeks since my appointment the previous month, I phoned the psychiatrist’s secretary for an update. She claimed that they were in the process of moving offices but my referral was in the outgoing pile waiting to be posted the next working day.
Having received no more information, I phoned a week later and was told the exact same thing. So I waited another week before phoning again and got the same answer yet again!
Up until that point in my life, having both parents employed in the NHS, I had believed the NHS was a trustworthy organisation that, despite severe limitations on its resources, always pulled out the stops to meet expectations.
However, despite my inclination to not make a fuss, I raised a concern with my local NHS Foundation Trust’s Customer Care Manager and my faith in the NHS was restored when notice of my referral arrived a week later! So now it was just a matter of waiting…
In January 2011, 3 months after asking, I had my first appointment with the NHS Speech Therapist who immediately disappointed me by revealing she had no experience in teaching people to develop a female voice. This was reinforced when she kept presenting information she had found on the internet and reassuring me that I needn’t worry too much because hormones would help fix my voice (completely bogus information!). Thus I suppose it shouldn’t have been a surprise when, six sessions later, my voice had become, in my opinion, strangulated and so I was glad that she then called a halt to things. (Incidentally, from the beginning of 2012, I have been taking singing lessons to help me develop a female voice and have subsequently learned the errors my Speech Therapist enforced upon me).
Meanwhile, back in February 2011 (2 years after first seeing my GP), I got a letter from Charing Cross GIC offering me an appointment six months later. I couldn’t believe that after all this time I would have to wait another six months and I was left distraught!
Matters were made worse in March 2011 when that original appointment was cancelled and one offered for 10.45 in the morning. I could not imagine how the clinic could seem it sensible to offer someone who would have to make a 228 mile trip an appointment for 10.45 in the morning and told them to rearrange it. I also asked them to put me on the cancellation list in case an appointment should turn up sooner.
In April 2011 I got a letter confirming an appointment for June but this was cancelled in a letter I received a day later(!) offering an appointment for July. This chopping and changing of appointments left me lacking confidence in what was arranged and thus I left it until the last minute to book my train ticket to London when I could’ve got it for less than half the price if I’d booked it when I first received the letter. This lack of confidence in appointments made by the clinic was still with me when I last visited them in June 2012 and why I booked myself an overnight stay so that, even if the appointment was cancelled, I didn’t have to waste the expense of a train ticket and could still come to London for sightseeing and make it a worthwhile trip.
So, anyway, in July 2011 I had the pleasure of getting my first appointment at Charing Cross GIC with Dr Lenihan.
I found Dr Lenihan to be very rigorous in her questioning of me in that first appointment, which reassured me that I was being taken seriously and we would get to the bottom of my gender dysphoria.
The next appointment wasn’t until January 2012 but I knew there was a minimum 6 month period between appointments beforehand so I knew what to expect even if I was disappointed by the time lapse.
When I came for my second appointment in January, though, I was appalled that a blood test asked for by the clinic had not been carried out by my GP, resulting in a delay in me getting hormones prescribed.
I then had to go back to my GP and find out why this test had not been carried out and was told that procedure had not been followed and the admin staff had not written to me when they had failed to make contact with me via the phone. The test was subsequently done and I started on the prescribed hormones in May 2012.
In June 2012 I saw the clinic’s speech therapy specialist for the first time and Dr Lenihan for the second time. I left the meeting somewhat disappointed, however, that I had travelled all that way at great expense to myself and the rigorous interview at my previous two appointments had not been repeated. In fact, it seemed like I had gone to great lengths for nothing much more than a cursory chat!
However, I still left the meeting feeling I was on the right path and things were progressing smoothly if slowly – something Dr Lenihan seemed to confirm in her last letter to me.
However, in August 2012, after my hormone dose had been increased, I had a realization I was lying to myself – I did not identify as a woman (trans or otherwise) but as something outside of the binary gender model. Thus the progress towards forming a female body could not ever be satisfactory. That it in fact was increasing my gender dysphoria rather than settling it. Thus I decided to stop taking hormones and I wrote to Dr Lenihan and my GP later that month informing them both of my decision to stop taking hormones.
I did not receive a timely reply to that letter and, as time was getting ever nearer to my next appointment, I decided to contact Iffy Middleton as I had been present at one of her presentations and concluded from that that she was a good person to contact on this matter.
She informed me that she had passed on my letter to her to Dr Lenihan and thus I awaited a response.
In the meantime, I received a letter from Charing Cross GIC in October 2012 that informed me that my GP had been asked to take blood tests for my hormone levels(!) thus making it clear that there was a serious time delay in the clinic’s administration resulting in the clinic asking my GP to take blood tests for hormones I had stopped taking a month before the letter was typed and which, when my GP received it, would’ve been outside of the timescale being asked for in the letter my GP received even if I was still on hormones!
Thus I subsequently wrote to Iffy Middleton informing her of this and my dismay at the clinic’s inefficient service.
However, in Dr Lenihan's last letter to me, she seemed to think something she described as “a typing backlog” is not evidence of inefficiency and, furthermore, that there is no evidence I have had an inefficient service from the NHS at all!
Then as fate would have it, I had a phone call on the 16th October 2012 from my GP asking me to come in for the blood tests the clinic had asked her to do! So it would seem that it is not only the clinic who is unable to keep up with events – even when they’re brought to their attention directly by myself!
So I decided to write to Dr Lenihan taking issue with her comment that there is no evidence I have had an inefficient service from the NHS and received a very apologetic letter from the practice manager (countersigned by Dr Lenihan) promising, amongst other things, that the typing backlog would be addressed. However, I know from my friends who go there, that the typing backlog is as great as it ever was.
However, on the plus side, I feel I have learned a great deal from the last 3 years and I now feel sure in my own mind who/what I am and what I want out of life and it has nothing to do with “the gender reassignment pathway” or Charing Cross GIC.

An Honest Ramble

This week I had the privilege of being able to see a speech by Lana Wachowski in which she talks about the reasons why she's come out as trans and her battle to reach that decision.
If you don't know who Lana Wachowski is, she is one of the directors of The Matrix trilogy and also V For Vendetta (two films that I never really 'got' btw). However, whatever her failings are as a director she more than makes up for them in this video of her acceptance of The Human Rights Campaign's Visibility Award.
It is a very moving speech with which I identified on a number of points - the sense of not belonging, the feeling of being a "freak" and others.
Like Lana, I also have stood in front of people and talked about these feelings. I wasn't accepting an award but, like Lana, I felt being silent about it was wrong.
I also, like Lana I think, believe if you feel something to be wrong you should try to do something to put it right. That is one of the reasons why I'm now learning how to be an Equality & Diversity Trainer.
I could've chosen to teach many things - I have a HND in Graphic Design for a start - but felt that, if I'm to make an impact in this world, I'd far rather try to improve something I feel strongly about than something I just happen to be good at.
I'm not either a natural teacher (I'm inclined to be introverted, for example, which is not a helpful quality for a teacher!) nor a natural educator in Equality & Diversity (I have far too many prejudices!) but that is part of the attraction for me - it's challenging and that challenge motivates me.
A recent attempt at Equality & Diversity training was just yesterday when I tried to educate people that they should "be true to yourselves" (which I think Lana covers quite well in her speech also).
Being true to yourself is something I've struggled with all my life and I still don't quite achieve it. I still have a tendancy to "act straight" if I feel being my true self will land me in trouble.
I know it's wrong... I know it causes pain and grief to myself... but I still do it. It's a survival technique I've learned and I can't quite seem to break the habit of a lifetime.
So one thing I hope I'm learning is to have compassion to my failings and also to have compassion to others who don't quite live up to my expectations as well (which in itself is wrong - who am I too judge?? - and, yet, another habit I don't seem to be able to break).
So, anyway, back to yesterday - I flopped. Or did I? Certain people say they enjoyed it and thought it was successful but I, with all my newly acquired learning about teaching, feel I should've done so much better than I did.
But am I being too harsh on myself? It was, after all, the first time I'd done that presentation and nothing ever works out the way you expected or wanted at the first attempt! That is what I'm learning as a student teacher - that teaching is as much a learning process as being a student is.
So, anyway, enough of my ramblings for now. I don't know if there's any point/message to this?? But thanks for reading through to the end anyway.

The Magical Mystery Tour

One in a very occasional series of film reviews...

This morning, after being a fan of The Beatles for the last 25 years or more, I finally got to see The Magical Mystery Tour and, far from being the travesty that I was always lead to believe it was, I reckon it's the best Beatles movie of the lot! The only fault I can see with the movie is that it was a movie too ahead of it's time.
For a start it was originally seen by the nation in black & white on poor quality televisions - not like I just watched it on my colour 42" HD telly!
It also has next to no production values and was made 40+ years before reality television and video blogs made us all acquainted with that idea!
It is also a psychedelic/surrealist movie with strippers and very little plot so pretty avant garde (especially considering how straight laced Britain was at the time!) - but broadcast by "Aunty Beeb" on Boxing Day and featuring the world's most commercial band!
It also followed two Beatles films that focussed on the band's likability/cuteness - A Hard Days Night and Help! - where this film has very little of that and instead is a pretty random experiment in film making.
The production the film most reminded me of was Monty Python's Flying Circus but this was broadcast 2 years before Monty Python! And Monty Python caused a hell of a stir even then!
...so the shock The Magical Mystery Tour must've caused to mainstream Britain on Boxing Day in 1967 is still palpable 45 years later!
For me, though, the film has two great pleasures: The Beatles and the anarchy of the film.
Seeing The Beatles perform, even all this time later, is a joy. Their character and talent put the popular bands of today firmly in the shade! (Yes, Coldplay, I am looking at you!)
And the anarchy of the film - it's lack of production values, it's lack of plot, it's lack of commercial considerations, it's silliness, even the fact that the final two songs are plastered on the end with no rhyme or reason - made the film highly enjoyable and I'm pretty sure I will never see another film quite like it!
Highly recommended.

Choose Happiness

It's a glib thing to say "Choose happiness".
If depression was that easy to overcome a lot of psychiatrists would be out of work and the drug (and vice) industry would take a massive hit in it's earnings.
But what is easy is to push aside negative thoughts and replace them with more positive ones. I say "easy" but it does take a bit of effort - not a whole lot of effort - but a bit. The key is finding the determination to make that effort.
In my experience it's all too easy - and comforting - to think "Life has been so horrible to me". Thinking that way gives me an excuse to avoid taking responsibility for my life - a life that has in many ways been incredibly disappointing. But I am not a passenger in my life. I am the driver. Every decision I make - even if it is to delay making a decision - has a consequence and I thus have a responsibility for that consequence. That is incredibly difficult for me to accept - hence shirking the responsibility.
I am speaking from considerable experience of this. But I am finding a bit of reflection helps me through the darker moments. It's not so much as "choosing happiness" as "ignoring the sadness".
I hope for a miracle cure for my husband that may never come. I hope that this unfulfilling job is only the stop gap to finding a much more rewarding career than I've ever experienced before. I am hoping that this depression will lift and I will know happiness like never before. I am hoping that I am now slowly coming to terms with my gender identity and that, instead of fighting it, I will come to accept it's swings and roundabouts. And I am hoping I will put that year of bullying 25 years ago behind me and finally find the strength to be myself even in the face of adversity (as well as amongst friends).
But, in my dark moments, the above also gives me much ammunition to hate myself and my life. That is what I need to move beyond.

There's No One Here But Us Pigeons!

It's quarter past midnight and I'm tired so this probably isn't the best time to be starting writing this but something a lady said last night has bugged me all day and now I simply must release the tension...
So last night I took one of my best friends to investigate a trans social group in Blackpool called Renaissance.
I sat down and the first question the girl sat next to me asked was "So are you TS then?", to which I affirmed that I was. This then prompted her to ask about hormones and I explained that I'd stopped taking them to which her response was "Oh, so you're just a crossdresser then" and it is this that has bugged me because it is offensive in many many ways.
First of all, I am not "Just" anything!
"Just" implies simplicity - one dimension - when I am far from that!
"Just" denies much of my achievement to actually exist at all!
Second, I am not a "Crossdresser".
I identify as female and I dress in female attire - that is not crossdressing! If I were to crossdress it would involve wearing male clothes and I have absolutely no intention of doing that ever again!
Also, the statement "You're just a crossdresser" in this context implies that crossdressers are lesser than transsexuals and that is just crap! There is no hierarchy of "trans-ness" - or at least there shouldn't be! I did not transition to claim superiority over anyone else. The reason why I transitioned was solely about my need to identify with my identity! (i.e. I identified as female and thus needed to express my female identity)
This statement also bugs me because it highlights people's need to classify what do they do not understand. And, unfortunately, some can't even be bothered to seek out the evidence to support their conclusion! So we get ignorance masquerading as fact which is just lazy and offensive!
It reminds me of something my dad said to me, "Pigeon holes are for letters and pigeons... not people!".
So is it too much to ask to be treated not as a letter nor as a pigeon but as a person as unique and as complex as any other??
After all, my life is still capable of changing in a heartbeat and, if I've shown anything, it's surely that it has and quite probably will continue to do so and thus render categorisation a fruitless exercise!
Note: As there appears to be some confusion, I'd just like to clarify that when I say "female", I do not mean "woman". I thought I had mentioned it in an earlier post but, if not, I am doing so now - I identify as female but not as a woman. I hope that is suitably ambiguous to everyone. :-)

Feckless Is As Feckless Does

I've now been unemployed for 7 weeks and in that time have been turned down for an interview for a position that I spent 18 months doing by the company I used to work for (but in a different location) because I 'wasn't experienced enough'; been to an "assessment" for a job described to me as "helping people out with their mortgages" which, when I turned up to it, was actually debt collection; and yesterday I was turned down for a 3 month temporary Admin job by a company who carries the Investors In People, Navajo, and Investors In Diversity watermarks - which I spent 5 hours filling in their application form detailing how I met each of their 9 criteria, point by point - because I lack the 'skills and experience', despite the fact it sounded 99% the same as the last two Admin jobs I had.
So when the right wing press describes the unemployed as "feckless" it sticks in the throat somewhat.
The only people who seem to be "feckless" are the people who I must rely on to get me back into work.
Besides what I describe above, I have found The Job Centre to be a total waste of space (practically everything they've told me has been wrong - to the extent I'm now thinking whatever they say, the reverse must be true!), the government seem to be doing anything they can to make the situation worse rather than better, and the prescribed solution to this problem has been to carry on doing what clearly hasn't been working since I was made redundant last October!
However, I'm not one to keep banging my head against a wall and hope for a different result each time.
Despite The Job Centre telling me not to bother, I went to Penwortham Work Club and in my two visits there they've made me feel a whole lot more positive about my situation.
Unlike The Job Centre, they appear to care about me and understand how bleak it is in the job market. They're also staffed by 4 experienced Careers Advisers/HR Managers and thus the advice they've given has yielded proper, noticeable, results.
They're the ones who got me to chase up Preston College to find out what was going on with my application for the PTLLS course. If I hadn't I probably would never have found out until it was too late that the college had somehow lost it and I thus needed to go and enrole last Thursday.
It is also PWC who helped me improve my covering letter which, in the two days I've been using it, seems to be provoking a lot more interest from employers.
Maybe the next thing I'll get them to do is show me how to fill in application forms so I'm not wasting 5 hours not to even get a sodding interview from people who claim to be taking positive action towards recruiting me!

Britain's Most Cowardly Comedian?

Frankie Boyle has been pilloried, misrepresented and demonised. And for what?
For telling it like it is.

These are the words that greeted me when I visited Frankie Boyle's website this morning.
From this I could be forgiven for thinking Frankie Boyle is incredibly brave to keep being honest in the face of such hostility.
But I would be wrong.
If Frankie Boyle were brave he'd be honest about how he makes his living. He'd state quite unapologetically that, yes, he is offensive but that he has every right to be and make his living from it, if he so wishes (which he clearly does).
That is the position a braver comedian, Rowan Atkinson, has taken. Rowan Atkinson has stated quite unapologetically that he thinks it is wrong for comedy to have boundaries and standards of taste and has defended that position eloquently.
Frankie Boyle does not. Frankie Boyle lies, squirms and wriggles his way out of trouble.
For example, when questioned about his Tweets poking fun at paralympic athletes he stated that his jokes were "celebratory" and that he was "laughing with the disabled" not at them.
It is this type of refusal to accept responsibility for his actions, despite numerous opportunities of his own making to do so, that marks Frankie Boyle out as a coward.
What is more, far from being a victim, Frankie Boyle is a bully; for Frankie Boyle constantly tries to take away our right to be offended.
Where Rowan Atkinson states that, 'yes, some comedy is offensive but that shouldn't stop us from telling offensive jokes', Frankie Boyle repeatedly states that he was not offensive and thus we have no right to be offended.
However, Frankie Boyle, has absolutely no right to decide what anyone else finds offensive.
The job of a comedian is to tell jokes - it is the job of the recipients of those jokes to decide whether they're funny or not.
Frankie Boyle clearly wants to do both.
And that, incidentally, is why I do not find him funny - because I'm not allowed to. Any time I care to take my seat in his audience, I find Frankie Boyle already sitting in it!

No Surrender

So, following on from my last blog post, things didn't start with the enthusiasm I had hoped for on Monday.
I was nervous about how my lovely husband would react to the "new, super-improved" me.
Of course, I needn't have worried. When I presented myself to him as the "new, super-improved" me, his response was one of positive affirmation. And I loved him all the more for it.
He has always been honest with me. It is why I ask for his advice on matters... and why I'm usually nervous about asking for it. Honesty is hard to take when it's not the answer you were hoping for.
However, honesty is a quality in myself I fear I'm less endowed with. I have struggled all my life with my own mantra that "It's better to be hated for being honest than to be loved for being a liar".
It's a fact I know to be true but one I struggle to put into action thanks to those who will only love me on their terms.
These people are bullies and the world is full of them. They are the people who think it right to force others to fit in with their way of thinking with threats of violence, loneliness and/or poverty. And those threats make my life far more difficult than it needs to be. Because I don't fit in. I never have and I never will and I'm made to feel worse for the fact.
So I sought to feel better by pretending I did fit in. But as time went by I became more and more aware that I'd imprisoned myself in a world that doesn't love me.
So now I've broken free of that world it feels like a massive achievement - even though the change has really only been very small.
Small enough, in fact, that the general public don't even seem to notice. They still treat me exactly the same as they did before. The only difference is that I'm no longer lying to them. And, even if they don't notice it, I feel a whole lot better about it.
But I know those bullies haven't gone away just because I defy them. The threats of violence, loneliness and poverty are still real and omnipresent.
But, now I've claimed my life as my own, to surrender it back to them would be an act of utmost stupidity - as it would be to ignore the existence of their threats completely.
So I acknowledge their threats and I continue to defy them.
This is my life. No surrender.

The Adventure Takes A Left Turn

In my last post I wrote about how fear - and particularly my fear of not having any money - had dictated the path my life had lead.
It's interesting to reflect on that as I sit here now having gone through - what seems to me - a seismic change in the direction I'm travelling.
Last week I was on holiday in Oxfordshire. The weather was lovely, and I was enjoying getting out and about and leaving my worries behind. But one morning I forgot to take my hormones and I didn't realise until I was a long way from the cottage we were staying at. Not to worry - one day wouldn't matter and I'd resume where I left off the next morning.
Then I went to buy ice creams for John and I and the ice cream man called me "Sweet heart".
Now to some trans people being able to "pass" (i.e. accepted to be the gender as that which they're presenting) so completely as I just had would be empowering. It would, after all, have achieved one of their goals. But to me it was alienating and, although I'd regularly had this niggle in the back of my mind, suddenly it became a disturbing roar and I couldn't take it any more. As far as I was concerned, I was creating a deception I didn't actually want to create.
So what to do now? Well, the next morning I thought about taking the hormones as usual but, realised, it was causing changes in me I no longer wanted. I didn't want the body of a female.
Now I'd been here before - as I blogged about at the time - and I'd taken hormones again the very next day. But this time I had the certainty that I no longer wanted to take hormones and the will power to stop. And I've not taken a hormone since.
So now I'm left with a problem that I haven't completely sorted out yet. How do I, someone who is trans, who felt manhood alienating, and wants to be perceived as feminine achieve that without being perceived as a woman?
Well, the answer that appeals at the moment is that - when I feel alienated from both the male and female genders - is to stop allowing my issues with gender to disadvantage me. For, if neither gender really suits, then gender becomes an irrelevance and I can play with gender to my advantage.
Don't get me mistaken - I never want to wear another item of male clothing or present myself as masculine ever again - but what's to stop me from presenting myself as an ultra feminine male?
For this I look to two of my heroes, Quentin Crisp and Boy George. I admire neither for their personality - both are quite loathesome in many ways - but I do admire them for their audacity to present themselves as they are/were - ultra feminine males.
I feel that is where the true expression of my gender identity lies. Some might describe it as "androgyny" but "androgyny" is a term - to my ears - that carries a weight of feebleness about it. I don't believe for one second that I am feeble. I feel empowered because now I feel I have the strength to express myself in exactly the right way... despite the fact that doing so may very well worsen my employability even more than it already was.
Now, to end this political party broadcast, I will relay an answer I thought of in answer to the question, "Are you a man or a woman?" which is, "I am intelligent."
"I am intelligent enough not to answer that question.".

A New Adventure

When I visited London a few weeks ago I had a bit of a revelation. I realised that life is best lived in the moment for then I am free of worry and fear and find life exhilarating.
Furthermore, I have realised that I have allowed money - particularly my fears about not having money - to restrict my enjoyment of life. So, instead of making me happy like I have been told all my life, money has actually made me miserable.
So I have decided that, as far as that which is within my control, I am going to free myself of worry and fear and enjoy life.
I haven't worked out what exactly that means and I'm not Mystic Meg so I can't predict the future either but I know one thing for definite - I am tired of restraining and containing myself.
So now is the time to be foolish, to be adventurous, to go out in a - hopefully, very long - blaze of glory!
And I know it's already working too because, instead of feeling stressed, I feel happy and optimistic.
I can feel it in my bones that I'm about to embark on the best and greatest adventure of my life! :-)