Getting there
On Saturday afternoon, I was bathed, shaved, dressed and we were walking down the road towards Bedford station on our way to Trafalgar Square. There was plenty of time to do everything we had planned, but it was hot though, bloody hot. I was sweating even though I was fanning myself so much, E-J got goose bumps on her arm. I may need to consider growing my hair out and not using a wig any more. That really doesn’t help when its hot. The tube was a nightmare too. How much hotter can it get down there?
But there we were, in big scary London, on a roasting hot tube, heading off to Camden Town. What a place that is! Step off the road into a market, and it’s like an Aladdin’s cave of stalls, all crammed together so tightly, it’s difficult to tell where one stall ends, and another starts. We went through the cobbled streets over by lock 17, and found a bar to grab a very refreshing cold lager. It also hadn’t escaped either of us that we had just walked into a straight bar, in the middle of LDN!!!
People noticed us, and immediately knew, but they didn’t care. No pointing, no sniggering, no whispering, and no problem! Being a transvestite in a straight bar in London didn’t seem to be anything like our last outing, to a gay bar in Bedford! That was very very refreshing, and I don’t just mean the beer.
After that it was back onto the tube, and down to Trafalgar square. As we came out of the tube station, we went round to ask for directions from a tooled up police man who had just crossed the road. He asked if I was joking!!!! We were stood not 20 foot away from it LOL. What can I say? We don’t get out much.
After the beers we had had earlier, we were somewhat in need of a loo, so off we went. Failing to notice the toilets in the corner of the square, we headed off round the corner to a pub with lots of big hairy blokes stood outside, smoking and drinking. There wasn’t anywhere else to go, so it was heads down, and straight in and then down the stairs to the loos. Once safely inside the ladies, E-J announced that she thought we might be in the right place so to speak. When I looked up, and around, it was definitely the right place for us. A gay bar, and the big hairy blokes were nothing more than bears. What are the chances of that happening LOL.
Before we headed off into the square, we had a few drinks, and something to eat.
Once in the square, we had a look at the plinth before making our way over to the welcome office. As soon as I opened the door, one of the crew said, “You must be the 10 O’clock slot?” They were great and made us feel right at home. Even gave me a tee shirt as a plinther. Ill probably not wear it tho, its more E-Js sort of thing than mine. So there we were, arrived in plenty of time, so now I could stop worrying. No I couldn’t, I’m on the plinth soon!!!!! Oh lordy!!!!!!! What have I done?
The 9 O’clock plinther, a man with a bag full of 1,000 cakes apparently! Well 500 to be precise, his friend was on the way with the other 500!!!!! Good luck with that! The square is gridlocked so I hope hes coming by train! He was just about ready to go, and he’d had his 10 minute interview just after 8. His friend turned up with 2 minutes to spare, and he was whisked off to the plinth in the cherry picker. 5 after 9 and I was in the interview room. Not 10 minutes for me, more like 40 minutes!!! I was afraid at one point that it was going to over run, but thankfully it didn’t. The interviewer was very attentive and asked loads of questions about the person behind the person on the plinth. What lead me to be here as I was? Thats what my hour is all about I told her, and pretty much went through the whole hours speech for them. I got the feeling that she connected with me in a very empathetic way, and it seemed like she thought that this was going to be a special hour. Perhaps even something monumental? I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but it was an air of expectancy for something rather special.
On the plinth
Now was my hour. The cherry picker turned the corner and pulled up to the foot of the plinth. This was the bit I was dreading most. For months I’ve had a recurring dream where Im high up on a stairway when it gives way, and all the stairs below me collapse. I’m left rooted to the spot, unable to go up or down, and all I can do is to fear the falling. The plinth stands 7 meters tall, and to begin with, the cage is raised a good 2 or 3 meters above that, before descending on to the edge.
Cake man had one cake left and he handed it to me as he stepped on to the hoist. I stepped of, and heard the crowd cheer. I hadn’t realised from watching the night footage that there is a light end of the plinth, and a dark end. The end up by the National Gallery has 2 cameras and 2 very bright lights, making it the light end to stand on, whilst the other end is lit up from a single light on the One and Other welcome hut on the far side of the square. Down on the ground though, its the other way round. Its pitch black at the National Gallery end, so thats where I stood, unable to see the ground.
The crowd below had been whipped up into a frenzy, it was 10pm on a Saturday night, their thirst had been well quenched by copious amounts of alcohol, and their hunger had been sated by cake man. Now they wanted blood! Well maybe not, but they were expecting to be entertained, and that wasn’t gonna come from me. I had a plan, and I was going for it. The whole 2400 hours are being archived, and thats the art. Electronic pages of an hour each, held online for the world to access. Thats why I was there. To bear my soul and poor out my heart, in an attempt to reach out and connect with people as a transvestite. If I could touch the lives of a few people, perhaps educate them a little, or even just to explain it a bit, then my job will have been done. So not for me was there a loud hailer, that would have come across as preaching, and thats no way to connect with people. Nor did I intend to shout either. Im not going down as the shouty tranny of the plinth. For me it was simply to read out some of what I wrote about my life as a transvestite a few years ago so that it would be available for all to watch. I had deliberately excluded the crowd in the square from my hour, and I was expecting trouble for it.
I was acutely aware that I would be nervous, and needed to not just read out what I was saying, but to listen to it as well. That was the only way I could be sure to do it at a normal speed and not go off at 90 miles an hour. I started reading and listening to what I was saying, but I was also very aware of the now baying crowd. I wasn’t entertaining and they weren’t happy. I tried to remain aware of them without listening to them, because I had much to say and i needed to raise and lower my voice to be heard over the crowd. Soon the baying crowd went quiet. Apparently most people had realised it was for me a personal thing, and they had told the noisey ones to shut up, who had then drifted off in search of something more entertaining. I think one came back a bit later, because I heard someone shout “Your supposed to be entertaining us!” It didn’t phase me and I continued to talk thinking, “No I’m not! I’m here for me not you” Finally I had got to the end, and I turned round in the hope of seeing the hoist driving up to the plinth.
Nothing! Not a sign of it anywhere!!! Oh god! What do I do now? I started waving at the crowd in the hope that I hadn’t got through it all so quickly, I still had half my time to go. Then I noticed a clock high up on the top of a building behind the One and Other hut. 5 to 11 PHEW!!!!!!! And to my enormous relief, the hoist came round the corner. A bit more waving at the crowd, and I was back on the hoist and lifted down to the ground.
Back in the hut, I signed the guest book and shaked hands with all the crew, who by now had finished but had waited around for me to come down so they could say thanks and bye. Once it was over, I learnt that E-J, who hates London and doesn’t like big crowds, had been going about telling anyone who was interested, who I was, what I was doing, and why I was doing it! I was immensely proud of her for that. Talking to strangers in a large crowd, in a big scary place like London, meant that she had to overcome some of her biggest fears and hates. All of that she did in support of me. Im so very very lucky to have her in my life.
It was a bit of a rush to get over to St Pancras station on a closing down tube network, that to cap it all had lots of engineering works to confound us even more, but we made it with the help of a member of the crowd who had stood and watched me. On the Train to Bedford we sat looking down a largely empty carriage. On the wall at the far end was a poster for somewhere or something I couldn’t quite make out. All I could make out were the words, “Do something amazing today” and I said to myself, I think we just did!
Participating in One and Other was a liberating, if slightly daunting experience. All the staff were very helpful and supportive to my E-J and I, and we could not have asked for more or had a better day.
Mandy
http://www.oneandother.co[...]s/Mandy
