Preparations for Christmas festivities are creating an air of expectation and excitement around Huckleberry Close this morning, and I couldn’t help noticing that next door people seemed to be stopping by at my neighbor, Marjory’s house looking at the rather imposing Christmas decorations in front of her house. A truly excited sense of seasonal cheer has developed in our little community.
The children have had their last day of school, and inspite of the unseasonably warm weather they are playing in the street and throwing snowballs at one another and laughing. Indeed the festivities this morning spilled over in a rather unusual incident worth recalling. It all started with http://fionadobson.com/match-making-kundli/ rolling into my kitchen at 9 am, a little bleary eyed, looking for coffee and advice.
“Fiona,” she said a little groggily. “I think I may be experiencing hallucinations.”
I did my best to calm her down, as she sat looking worried.
“I swear that Santa Claus in Marjory’s garden just flashed me,” she groaned as she shakily took the coffee I offered her.
I do so hope you’re getting ready for a lovely Christmas, even though this is going to be a Christmas quite unlike others we’ve shared. I know we’re going to spend a certain amount of time in front of screens rather than family, and I will likely be on the website chatting with members and friends. We will manage though.
In the meantime some of my more organised friends are getting ready for the New Year. I think it might be a little optimistic, but Marjory (who you will remember does well on the competitive eating circuit) is already going through her schedule for next year’s competitive eating events. It’s very competitive as you probably know. The organizers stage legs in various cities throughout the South. She is diligently trying to plan out next year’s schedule.
Inevitably it’s always at a time when Amanda is also very busy. However she usually manages to slip away from her demanding schedule at Pig And Pig Farmer a few times in the season to meet up with Marjory and give her a kiss between the legs.
But that’s not the main reason I am writing to you. I was most surprised this morning to look out of my back window and see Sylvester struggling up the back lane with a trailer behind his truck. Apparently, with all these restrictions on gatherings, the local church has taken the opportunity to do some much needed maintenance. Sylvester has helped by delivering some of their things to the company that services them.
Looking from my kitchen window I saw his truck approaching in the lane behind my house pulling an enormous trailer. I opened my window and called out to Sylvester, “What on earth do you have there, dear?”
“It’s the organ,” he replied. ‘I need to park it up while I get a tarpaulin. It looks like it might rain in a little while.”
“That’s OK,” I called down the lane. “Just leave it in my back passage.”
I hope he gets a tarpaulin for it quickly. It’s much better wrapped, I think. Parked there it will be fine for a couple of hours though, I think. What a very big heart Sylvester has, helping the church out like that. Rainbow has in the past offered yoga classes at the church, and when the members of the church council organised a collection for her, knowing she’s not got much work at present, they presented her with a handy and much needed windfall.
I asked her what she was planning to do with it, and she said she was very grateful to the gentlemen of the church council and that she was planning to blow the whole lot over Christmas. It seemed a rather unusual turn of phrase, I have to admit.
For those of you alone this Christmas I really do think you’d enjoy my Whatsapp Group. It provides a level of community connection many of us are missing in our lives. There’s an active group of crossdressing friends there and we’d welcome you as well. You can find all the details HERE. It’s much better than feeling alone over Christmas. Of course I also have a couple of other ways for you to connect and feel part of the community. You could join My Little Black Book, or simply join m y Patreon for $1 a month and use the Community page there. Don’t be alone this Christmas.
I will be writing again soon, but if you find yourself with a little time on your hands over the Christmas period, be sure to check out my Patreon. For those who don’t have much in the way of community around them, I would suggest you join my Whatsapp Group and connect with the lovely group of members who are chatting so nicely on there.
Many years ago… well, three years ago, I started writing the Fiona Dobson newsletters and blog. In the early ones I would embed a Youtube video now and then, that often touched in to the themes of the newsletters. That’s how the Fiona Dobson Playlist came in to being.
I add to it from time to time, even though I rarely include them in the mailings these days. Even so, it’s a fun addition and one I’m not likely to drop anytime soon. So, if you need a little lift, have some fun with this. I hope you enjoy it.
Before she was Maya, she was Markus. Growing up in small town Ontario, she always knew she didn’t identify with her assigned gender. It wasn’t until moving to Toronto and attending her first Trans pride march that she found the courage to finally begin her transition, a choice that ended up saving her life.
I cut across the square and walked into the bar after work. I usually only come here at lunchtimes, the fish always being fresh and the salad light. I can come in here, have a quick lunch and be back at my desk within an hour easily.
In the evenings there’s a lot of people in from out of town, there being a large hotel next door. And there’s a fair crop of locals too. It’s quite busy after six. It’s surprising how crowded this lonely city can be when all the commuters go home.
I don’t think I’d seen this one before. Maybe I had but it didn’t matter anyway. It’s not like I go out looking for romance. But he looked interesting. He told me a name, and I just let him freestyle his way into my evening.
He bought me a few drinks, and started to get a little touchy feely. Well, it was ok. The bar was closing soon anyway.
I decided I’d walk home with him, his place wasn’t far from mine, and we’d part and he’d never know how different I am.
But that’s not quite how it went down. Sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes it just gets more interesting.
We decided stopping at my place for a nightcap might be ok. Why not? He leaned close as I fumbled for my keys, his breath heavy against my cheek. By the time I found my keys he was running his hands inside my jacket searching for my breasts
Advice from a crossdressing Account Executive for the
company Christmas Party.
I am always pleased to help out my members and keep them on
the right track. With this in mind the following list of thoughts has been
compiled from the experiences and suggestions of some of my valued members.
It is no longer acceptable to sit on the photocopier during the Christmas Party photocopying your bum and handing out prints saying it’s another memo from the accounts department.
When sitting on the photocopier (see #1) do not make the mistake of scanning your bottom and posting it to the company Instagram Account.
Taking a co-worker to the Christmas Party does not count as a first date.
Don’t sleep with the head of Human Resources on the first date (see #3).
Line ups at the STD Clinic are generally shorter during the holiday period.
When asked what you were thinking (See #4), replying “Everyone else has,” is not considered a good reason.
It’s no fun being on antibiotics through the Christmas period.
If you have Christmas Party suggestions please make a point
of sharing them below.
I am so pleased to thank all my lovely Patreon members for their recent kind wishes to Stacey, who has been unwell with Covid. She is now recovering and will be back on her feet soon. In the meantime I can tell you some exciting news.
Katia Thornwood has a new series about to be released for all my members. Now, as you probably know Katia generally writes just for our treasured Seahorse members – those naughty boys and gurls who so desperately need a little extra discipline. However, in line with the Christmas season, she’s asked me to put this new series out to all my Patreon members. Her generosity knows no bounds (particularly when I am paying her wages).
Those of you who know Katia will realise she is quite a strict disciplinarian. She longs for the days of the past when the kindly local policeman, that everybody on the street knows, would give a recalcitrant teenager a clip round the ear as they were hauled off to the gallows. Now, of course, she applies a more impacting version of discipline all of her own. Her new series is called The Lovers and will enthrall all who read it.
What few people know is that Katia is also very keen on her tropical birds. She loves parrots and conures, and has been know to stroke a large cockatoo from time to time as well. Anyway, I know you’ll enjoy the upcoming series, The Lovers. If you’re not already a member just join my Patreon for December at just $1 for the month to enjoy this great collection. What better way is there to make Christmas special? I can’t think of one! http://patreon.com/fionadobson
I will be spending a little more time online this month, so if you’d like to check in with me just go to the site and you might find me there chatting through the site chat system. I love to connect with my gurls.
The text message which just landed on David’s phone read:
~ I’ll meet you at Larry’s Bar in town. 8pm. Don’t be late, Karen x
David tucked himself into his lilac cami-knickers before pulling on a pair of jeans and T shirt. There was just enough time to take off the crimson red nail polish before making his way to the bar to meet his friend.
It had been ages since Professor David Forbes had last seen Karen, and he was looking forward to catching up over a meal and a bottle of wine. They both studied at Cambridge and had dated for a while, but the sexual attraction inevitably morphed into platonic respect. Although Karen enjoyed a bit of kinky fun in the bedroom, her repertoire didn’t quite reach the heady heights of dating a cross-dresser. Of course, David at the tender age of nineteen hadn’t intended to reveal his dark side, his ‘Diana‘, to anyone at the university. Despite first acknowledging his feminine side when he was about sixteen, David’s relationship with Diana had still been very much at its experimental stage during his first year in Cambridge.
A compelling urge mixed with curious desire gave birth to many experiments—underwear, dresses, makeup—all strictly between David and the four walls of his student residence. Oh, and the full length mirror he had acquired for next to nothing from the local junk shop. There was just that one exception.
One evening, Karen had arrived at his room a full hour earlier than expected, only to catch him in mascara and lipstick, together with a black thong and matching cropped top. Shock, horror and yelling eventually gave way to heart-to-heart confessions. David would never deny who he was and who he wanted to be; Karen would never claim she could cope with that.
I am pleased to say that all the content here – in the Premium Program and in my Patreon – is designed to appeal to my friends of all adult ages.
A very significant portion of my membership are in their senior years. For many of us, it’s only then that we really know ourselves well enough to accept the feminine within us. I love my senior members.
By the way – don’t forget the great Fiona Dobson playlist for an immediate pick me up! Get to it HERE.
Well, I thought what Sylvester was saying was that Hannibal, my dachshund had been interred. Wondering if this were some punishment for running wildly about the park, I assumed he meant he’d been taken by the bylaw officer. This is what you get for letting your friend walk your dog.
I’d have walked Hannibal myself, were it not for the fact that I need my legs waxed. Rainbow has been kind enough to come over to help, and after we’ve finished we’ll be enjoying an eggplant yoghurt facial she has concocted. As you can imagine I am using the term ‘enjoying’ advisedly. I’m sure you understand there’s a certain amount of scheduled maintenance has to happen to keep up appearances, as a crossdressing account executive at the advertising agency. Much as one would care for a beautiful object, or as Bernard, my photographer, put it rather unkindly a large public building.
Sylvester thinks Hannibal, who is extremely sweet particularly when he snarls at Amanda, is a chick magnet. Whenever he walks Hannibal young women who ought to know better come up to Sylvester and start fawning over him. I mean, Hannibal, not Sylvester. Fawning over Sylvester would be like fawning over a Caterpillar Tractor. As a result Sylvester enjoys walking Hannibal some days, usually after the local yummy mummies have dropped there screaming charges off at the Huckleberry Montessori Daycare Centre For Spoiled Brats.
He wanders around the park looking sombre and brooding like a poet or a man recently widowed who needs the loving embrace of a dissatisfied young mother. Preferably blonde, a former gymnast, and quite possibly with poor English skills.
“What do you mean, Sylvester,’ I said into the phone. “They can’t inter my dog!’
“No, he’s been ‘interred’. It’s a fancy way of saying he’s got very dirty.”
I paused. I think Sylvester has been spending too much time with Ali, my Syrian gardener.
“I don’t think that’s what that means,” I said. “If you mean he’s dirty I suggest you bring him back here and give him a good wash. And I don’t mean like last time.”
I could tell Sylvester was about to protest and quickly added, “Sylvester, throwing Hannibal’s ball through Mr. Singh’s car wash does not count as cleaning my dog. I’m still getting abusive phone calls from him from the last time.”
I hung up the phone and returned to the business at hand, Katia having recently arrived and was presently sitting with Rainbow and myself contemplating the yoghurt facial.
“Do you plan to eat it or fix the grouting with it?” she asked.
As you likely know, Katia Thornwood is what I can best be described as a disciplinarian, working with some of my Seahorse members. These are those special members who require that extra little helping hand in their dressing. Katia and Mistress Meg look after them and can be found on my Patreon. However, Katia was visiting my house to discuss some minor business matters and was looking forward to seeing Sylvester.
“He’s a very useful sort of chump,” observed Katia. “He leant me some of that very fine oil for a pair of nipple clamps I use on my visitors. I’ve been using them a while now, and I hardly hear a squeak out of them.”
“The clamps or the visitors,” I asked.
“Both,” she replied. “I have these rather frightening surgical shears I’d like him to oil. They’re most intimidating. They look perfect for castration.”
I winced a little and then said, “Well you can be sure your clients would speak highly of you after that.”
Katia sniggered and replied that they’re really just for show and insisted it’s good to maintain her tools.
I’m so sorry I’ve not been available much this week. I’ve just got back from a brief expedition with Bernard my photographer. He had me out in his boat this week. What a salty little sea dog he is, whipping out his equipment at the least expected moment. He likes to do a little wildlife photography on the water.
For those of you who read my messages regularly, you’ll know that my wife’s childhood friend Amanda, is something of an unfortunately regular visitor to my house in Huckleberry Close. My wife, who is regrettably travelling at present in Bulgaria, or Belgravia… or was it Bolivia, insists I treat Amanda with kindness.
“If you love me,” she said before leaving last time, “you’ll be nice to Amanda.”
I understand that doesn’t include pretending not to be home when Amanda visits, telling her the party is at an obscure address in Poughkeepsie, or creating fake profiles with her picture on Grinder. So, I have to watch my step. All that said, when I arrived home the other day only to put down my bags and hear a knocking on the door I was surprised to see a very upset Amanda on the doorstep, swathed in her usual tweed.
Seeing she was clearly upset I invited her in.
“What on earth is the matter, darling,” I asked as I poured her a large glass of wine, and an appletini for myself.
For those of you who wish to learn more about the various people in my life, just drill down using the hotlinks in these emails. I usually put a link to all the tags mentioning them early in the email, so it’s not hard to learn more about any given person. Amanda appears a great deal, as does Sylvester and Sebastian. You’ll find it’s quite a rich world of personalities and situations.
Amanda, as you possibly know, is the editor of Pig and Pig Farmer. This pillar of the journalistic establishment has been described as the fourteenth most influential publication in the sphere of Pig and Pork production monthly periodicals. As you can imagine, this makes Amanda quite an influential voice in the world of pork.
“It’s work,” she said. “I just feel so… so… so overlooked.”
“Why on earth is that,” I asked.
“It’s these bloody men! They’ve passed me over once more. I was hoping to be made group editor this year. I just feel I have so much more to offer,” she said between sobs. “And now they made Jed Richardson group editor and he’s barely been with the company three years.”
“Don’t worry,” I said trying to hug her and keep socially distanced. To do so I’d have to be an orangutan, I suppose, but I tried to show some human kindness. I know what you’re thinking. I give too much of myself to others – I know. Well, it’s just who I am, I suppose.
“I know it must seem terribly unfair,” I said. “These things happen. Don’t worry. Perhaps he’ll have an unfortunate accident, or something. You never know when fate is going to play a hand.”
“But it’s such an insult, being passed over again. It’s like I’ve hit a glass ceiling,” she said between sobs, pushing her face between my breasts.
I have to say the estrogen regime has done a great deal to help me comforting those that lean on me. You just can’t beat breasts!
“The workplace is a very unfair place,” I said to Amanda. “If it doesn’t feel right, you should just tell them where to shove their job.”
“In this economy?” she replied. And she did have a point.
“I remember all the trouble Sylvester had years ago when he was looking for a career in healthcare,” I said. “He got fired from that centre where they do the long term care for people with leprosy.”
“He worked in a leper colony?” said Amanda perking up a little.
“Well, they don’t call it that now,” I replied. “It’s some sort of long term care facility. Anyway, he started a poker school for some of the patients and ended up getting fired over it. Apparently someone threw their hand in, and lost their head. It was all very distasteful. Anyway, you know what a sweetheart he is. Employers are usually completely insensitive and out of touch. You just have to learn to take their money and keep on smiling.”
Amanda looked at me doubtfully.
“I suppose I do get some good perks,” she replied. “The bacon, and stuff. And I get to go to Porkers every year.”
“Porkers?” I said.
“It’s the Pig farming convention,” she explained. I should add that there is an irony here. Amanda is currently in a relationship with our next door neighbor, Marjory, who is quite a big noise on the competitive eating scene. https://majorleagueeating.com/ She is apparently accomplished in the sausage category, which seems unusual, with her being a lesbian and everything. Anyway, there’s Amanda growing the stuff, and Marjory wolfing it down. I can’t help thinking there’s a joke somewhere in there about Amanda firming it up and Marjory swallowing… well, you get the idea.
“Look,” I said comforting Amanda. “You have to remember, there’s a lot of people down at that paper who look at you with admiration. They’ve watched you from behind their desks as you’ve climbed higher and higher, and eventually burst through that glass ceiling, in a shower of glass and workplace discrimination. I mean, come on! You’re the first women to edit Pig and Pig Farmer in the history of pig journalism. And all those other people are left below in a pile of glass, looking up at… at… your crack. The crack you left in the ceiling.”
Amanda’s shoulder’s heaved and she sobbed again.
“Really, Amanda,” I said. “You know it’s no measure of who you are. We all admire your crack. The way you’ve opened things up.”
I had the distinct feeling I wasn’t helping. At that moment Marjorie’s F150 pulled up next door and I heard her boots on the gravel path. I let out a sigh of relief and Amanda pulled away and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.
“I’d better go,” she said. “I don’t want Marjory to see me like this.”
So, this week as we move further into a difficult time in the workplace for many of us, I’d like to take the opportunity to remind all my lovely friends that you are not defined by your work. It’s good to remind ourselves from time to time that our work is only a small part of who we are. We work to support our life, we don’t live to support our work.
I should say, I’ve been very fortunate. Having worked in the press, I can honestly say I’ve been fired by some of the finest papers in the world. To be honest, when I was in the press world that was practically a recommendation, and no one was considered very serious if they hadn’t been fired from one or two papers. I’ve even been hired back by a few, too. I think things are a lot different today, though not particularly better. Times change. For those of us who are gender fluid, keeping things in perspective is important. Workplace discrimination is a pretty serious and massively prevalent issue. We have to learn to laugh, and have patience. Being trans sure teaches us that. But we’re still here. And we aren’t going anywhere.
Have a lovely week, and don’t let Covid get you down. I must say, my good friend and Prime Minister of Canada, Justin gave a good speech yesterday. I think we would all do well to listen to him – regardless of where we call home. Which reminds me, I think he’s still got my copy of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. He always leaves the pages of books I lend him with the corners turned down. I’ve given him no end of bookmarks, but what can you do!
As Jensen tries to deflect the attentions of a diligent police woman, attention settles where it’s least wanted. Can Mrs. Sinclair help him out of some hot water? You can find all the Jensen episodes HERE.
Note from Fiona…
So, Jules Sandison writes this. It’s a great story. They also insist that I make sure that when it’s posted it has relevant associated advertising. I totally get that! I’m having so much fun researching Hornby train sets on Amazon. I’ve also come across some wonderful videos of train layouts. I hope you appreciate all the things we do here! LOL.FD
Gender should be the least remarkable thing about someone, but transgender people are still too often misunderstood. To help those who are scared to ask questions or nervous about saying the wrong thing, Jackson Bird shares a few ways to think about trans issues. And in this funny, frank talk, he clears up a few misconceptions about pronouns, transitioning, bathrooms and more.
How nice it is to be back in South Africa. I am visiting St. Bernadette’s School For Gurls here, where I serve as a school governor. I am also taking the opportunity to help out in the school, as a lot of the staff have been effected by Covid.
I do hope this is finding you well. If you’re being good for your auntie you’ll be taking a few precautions, wearing a mask as well as a nice pair of frilly panties. You know I like all my nephews to be well presented. If you’ve not bought any yet, perhaps you should check out my page of goodies. Have a look and see if there’s something suitable for you there. I think you’d look just delicious being a good gurl for me!
All the pupils here are out playing sports in the spring sunshine today. I do love it when they are out playing fields, and I get out my buns to give them all a treat between games. It’s so good to see them all playing together. I watched one of our most promising pupils, Amanda, beating off the competition to win the long jump. What a sight.
I do my best to keep all the scores tallied.
“Oh, auntie! You’re so good, always getting them down for us,” said Amanda just today, with a little snigger. I can’t think what she found so funny.