Well it had to happen at some point: I’ve run out of things to say again!
Way back in the earliest days of this blog, I mentioned that I’d been too busy doing things to stop and write about them. Specifically, I’d started going out and about around Scotland taking photos for a calendar for my friends, dressed up in different daft outfits.
Don’t stare at the bright, shiny future without protecting your eyes…
And that’s what I’ve been doing on and off ever since then; over the past decade I’ve put together eight tongue-in-cheek calendars for a select few friends, each one requiring about a dozen photo sessions to cover each month. I have to tell you, it was all bloody good fun!
The photos from each trip have made their way onto the blog gallery, and provided a ton of things to talk about in between the current affairs, psychology and random observations.
It passes the time…
I’ve reached the point where I’ve run out of ideas – I haven’t been on any more photo road trips recently, so I haven’t got any more new content for the blog. But this doesn’t mean there’s no more blog!
I’ve already learnt not to say ‘goodbye’ – sometimes life will take you by surprise. Instead, I’ve found that being Twist is a thing that happens when I need it the most. And for the time being, she can put her feet up. She’ll be back in my life, I just don’t know when!
No news or updates this time around, but I figured it might be an idea to map out where I’ve been on my travels out and about in Scotland (specifically those bits when I leave my home town, Edinburgh).
This is just a ton of links to previous blog posts featuring places you might be interested in if you ever visit. (Or at least, the places I figured would provide a bit of variety while I was prancing about dressed up!) The links (below the map) are provided in the order they were published.
I returned to Northumberland with some of my writing buddies for another girly road trip. First time out, we visited Alnwick Castle. This time, inspired by more locations in the area drawn on a teatowel (don’t ask), we visited Hadrian’s Wall. (And how often do you think about the Roman Empire?)
I’d been there before, and knew that because we were all massive nerds, Sycamore Gap was the place to go; after all, it had featured in Robin Hood: Prince Of Thieves and was one of the most familiar landmarks around. It would give us a chance to walk a short stretch of the wall (but a hilly one), and dress up for daft photos. I even went to a toy shop the evening before and got a tiny, dirt-cheap bow and arrow set.
Be there or be square! Oh… it’s a square…
The weather was decent, and the site was mobbed (a local charity group for disabled kids was also doing a promotional photo shoot there), so after our picnic lunch we had to arrange the camera in a way to hide all the other activities going on behind us.
I did the silly-bugger-version of Kevin Costner, my friend Karen opted for a somewhat Tolkein-ish Friar Tuck, and my friend Sarah dressed in black and wielded a spoon to play the Sheriff of Nottingham (and even agreed to have jam from her sandwich smeared across her cheek to mimic the facial scar).
Even though none of us resembled the original cast, passers-by recognised what we were doing instantly. One of them asked if we did this a lot? “No,” said Karen, “No,” said Sarah, “All the time!” said I…
Everything I do, I do it for you shits and giggles.
As I write, it’s still only a couple of days since the Sycamore tree that gave the gap its name was felled by a fuckwit with a chainsaw (currently thought to be a guy in his 60s who’d been evicted from a local farm; I might update this later once the truth is known).
It’s a sobering reminder that sometimes when you decide to postpone visiting a place “because it’ll always be there”, it ain’t always so. I’m just glad I got to take my friends there while it was still standing.
Left: an impressive bust. Right: If there’s chain links, I feign kinks.
Afterwards we headed to Vindolanda, a nearby museum with an outdoor cafe. We were greeted by a receptionist wearing a plethora of LGBT badges (and Tolkein stuff, and a Star Trek badge based on the newer series, not the good ones of old, but I kept my mouth shut about that). She was obviously delighted to see us (not sure how many crossdressers they get here) and I doubt we’ll ever meet a more helpful member of staff!
Infamy! Infamy! They’ve got it all in for me!
Vindolanda was a Roman border fort with a small support village attached. All that remains are the foundations and lower walls (and drains), but there’s a reconstruction of a wall and gate to allow experimental archaeologists to see how the soil and stones settle around the building works.
Quidquid latine dictum, altum videtur
Veni, vidi, induebar veste muliebri
Vindolanda’s gardens and museum make for a thoroughly pleasant summer stroll (I’ll spare you those photos; that’s not what this blog is about!). And there were enough recreated statues around and about to have fun with…
Puellae cupiunt habere deliciam
Time filled up really quickly, between the journey to the wall, the walk, the picnic, and pottering around the museum and cafe. We had enough of the day left to enjoy the outdoor exhibits before they locked the gates. We also met that helpful receptionist again, on her way out after packing things up for the day.
If I was a scared nymph of the village, how would I decorate my temple?
On the way home, along narrow country roads, I drove with the expectation that I’d encounter a load of dangerous drivers, and I wasn’t disappointed. Why do we always have to drive considerately for the benefit of the inconsiderate ones? Anyway, my passengers soon got used to me singing “wankpanzers!” to the tune of “Ghostbusters!” whenever we encountered a car built too big for the roads, or sarcastically faking orgasms at anyone overtaking dangerously. Sometimes you just gotta provide your own entertainment, ya know?
[This is my 100th blog post here!]
The figures on that fresco look thoroughly unimpressed with me…
Found these photos lurking in my archives (from pre-pandemic days in 2019 – or ‘The Before Times’ if I want to be dramatic about it). This is from my hunt to find striking or bizarre places to take photos, and I found one halfway up a hillside in Fife (or the ‘Kingdom of Fife’, for those Fifers who want to be dramatic about it).
Of course it’s not a natural pose – not with that smile, anyway…
The main draw was a feature called the “Bunnet Stane” (Bonnet Stone), a mushroom-shaped outrcrop of rock on the north-western bit of Lomond Hills. Underneath is a hollowed-out cave known as the Maiden’s Bower with all sorts of romaticised bullshit about it being the home of a young, fair lassie who ran away from home in days of yore, but (more plausibly) was a shelter for a local shepherd in the 19th century.
That’s a map of the Pentland Hills. I’m in Lomond Hills. No wonder I’m lost.
Once you’ve seen it, photographed it, and walked around it… there isn’t much more to add. It’s a weird rock in the middle of nowhere. And there’s a limited number of angles to take photos where it looks good.
The Bonnet Stone is a peculiar feature. I’ve kept my own peculiar feature tucked safely out of sight.
I thought I’d figured out the best time and date to go for sunrise photos (I prefer doing these shoots in the mornings before the crowds of hillwalkers descend), but alas it remained in shadow (and if you ever want to sound like a portentous fantasy character, the words “alas it remained in shadow” will do nicely).
Contrived? Set up? Whatever could you mean?
Never mind – the surrounding scenery consisted of rolling farmland in early morning sunshine, and I took the opportunity to prance about in clothes I hadn’t worn for a few years and was thoroughly relieved I could still squeeze into. The only difficulty was trying to smile with my eyes open whilst looking towards the sun.
Slender, graceful, shiny, modern… I love wind farms.
Compared with the previous set of photos I’d done in this outfit, I now had a better camera and a proper zoom lens, so we could attempt more sophisticated shots. On a personal level, I’ve found it interesting comparing the older shoots with the newer ones – the desire to find distinctive (and quiet) locations has always been there, but the difference in the quality of the photos is like night and day.
Hey, tits! I’m not a twitcher, though. Can’t jiggle ’em at all, truth be told…Stick to the path?
I don’t think I’d ever run out of places to go to for these photos. The limiting factor is inspiration: what to dress up as? What to do? How easily can it be done? And is it new, or am I just repeating something I’ve done before? I think it comes and goes in waves.
The main thing is to end up with a collection of photos and memories I can look back at and be happy with. The other thing, of course, is to keep making photos and memories…
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!]
Miss Twist speaks her brains 
