Girly road trip: need for mead

I don’t often venture across the border into England whilst cross-dressed, but when I do it’s worth it. One of my favourites is Lindisfarne, a small island across a tidal causeway…

Lindisfarne (not the ‘Fog On The Tyne’ one…)

Regular readers (and maybe the irregular ones too) will be aware that I am a massive nerd and history is one of those things I get nerdy about. However, I’ll spare you the history of early-mediaeval Northumberland and simply say that this place was rich with religious types and got the shit kicked out of it several times by Vikings. A few centuries later, I showed up. (Bit too brief?)

As Twist I can’t Hide in the Gertrude Jekyll Garden…

Its location on a tidal causeway regulate and limits the flow of tourists, but if you want to explore, you have to be pretty sharp across the sands. It’s got a village; it’s got a small castle; it’s got ruins; it’s got a rocky beach where you can make stone stacks; it’s got sand; it’s got a garden; it’s got boats. Um…

#Don’t just stand there, let’s get to it/
Strike a pose, there’s nothing to it…

Some are drawn by the scenery; some by the history; some by the fact that it’s kinda secluded. And others fancy browsing the shops selling the local mead. It’s not a big place (so it’s easy to see everything before the tide turns), so this wasn’t exactly a long photoshoot. More time was spent travelling here than actually being here.

For some reason I ended up having this bench to myself…

Despite its size, you can get a few arresting views here and there. I imagine it’s a pretty decent spot for astrophotography too. But mostly, it’s a fairly calm place. The tourists who do turn up never quite overwhelm it. This suited me: I much prefer doing photos without a huge audience!

Once again, mastering the single entendre…

Having said that, there was a busload of Italian tourists there when I visited, the women all in expensive clothes and heavy makeup. They figured me out (although they probbaly heard my voice too) and I ended up becoming a Person Of Interest;p they fell silent when I got close, and then they started up animated conversation once I’d passed by. The Italian for ‘transvestite’ is ‘travesti‘, and if there’s a more apt description of me than “a travesty” I’ve yet to find it…

[Update: ‘travesti‘ is Spanish, not Italian apparently. Like I said: I’m a travesty!]

Eh, fuck it; I’m out of the house, at least.