Smile please!

Becky, Mica, Kate and I had arranged an afternoon of pampering and photography at a studio in central Manchester, to be followed by a meal in ‘straightville’, which was really gong to challenge the boundaries of my confidence, as I’d rarely been out of the safe confines of the Village in the past. But, I was out with 3 highly passable and experienced t-girls, feeling very much like the apprentice.

We were allowed up to 3 changes of clothing, so as 4 Bob’s met in the hotel reception at 2.30, I had to admit to Kate that I was feeling really nervous about the rest of the day. Well you should have seen the luggage we had; you could just about squeeze it all into the cab! ‘Bye bye hotel. See you again in 12 hours,’ I thought to myself.

We could never have carried the gear ourselves, so when we turned up at the studio 2 minutes later we just burst out of the cab on to the pavement with all our bags and dress carriers etc! The staff at the studio didn’t know what hit them as we shuffled in and took the place over, whilst quiet couples with babies, and single women kind of looked at us quietly and tried to work out what we were up to. By this time our group dynamics took over the place, and it was just so funny to be there! I think Mica took the award by this time, arriving whilst wearing her kitten heels and girly coat!

Eventually we were all led to the makeover room, where we were split between the makeover and the nail manicure. There was a fair bit of banter going on, despite the girls not knowing what to expect, and it was all good humoured. My nail manicurist admitted she’d never painted a tv’s nails before, so then it was down to the usual explaining of what we’re about and why we do it (at least my own reasons for doing what I do, anyway!). The gasp from the girls when Kate put her hair on after the makeover was incredible. They couldn’t believe the transformation! Meow meow! And, as for her travelling make up kit….!

Then on to hair styling, (Becky Beehive won the artistic prize on that one!) and then afterwards it was over to the photographer’s studio. And guess what? Did anyone get changed into another outfit? Only moi, once, with the smallest holdall there. All the other bags etc that the other girls brought were just there to collect air miles.

The session was fun, and the guy taking the photos was very laid back. We had single shots and group shots, it was a cool experience. There must have been 100+ photos taken between the 4 of us. After that, we just chilled about, waiting for them to process the shots so we could view them and select our portrait(s). Despite my friends’ harsh self-criticism, there were some very good shots in there.

We finally turfed ourselves back on to the street about 7-ish, with all our luggage. So how to 4 glam-looking t-babes with a mountain of luggage between them manage to get a cab to take us back to the hotel? With an awful lot of difficulty! Could we find a cab? No chance! So after a good 15 minutes of hanging around the corner of Cross Street, we decided to walk along King Street towards Deansgate, despite Kate’s quiet but forceful mutterings about not carrying this bl**dy heavy bag any further. Well between us we struggled on to Deansgate and grabbed a cab, for the 20 second drive around the corner to the hotel. After 5 minutes we’d unloaded everything, despite my worries about getting my stockings ripped by bag zips and buckles etc. The Japanese call girl scene from Lost in Translation, one of my favourite movies, crossed my mind, ‘Oh Mr Bob, lip my stockings’!

We agreed to get freshened up for a while and meet up again at 8, ready to go out. So by the time the other girls appeared at 8.20, I was outside talking to a girl waiting for a taxi, who would have joined us but she was meeting her boyfriend at a restaurant. Oh yes? These Mancunian chicks know how to tell their porkies! Then we walked up to Deansgate, and started looking for somewhere to eat. We spied La Tosca, so in we went and got ourselves a good table, and ate and drank, and took photos in there for hours! At once stage I lost control of my over-girly hand gestures ad knocked over a nearly-full glass of great Merlot, with broken glass going all over the place. Still I got a fresh refill!

We must have come out of there about 11-ish, and then headed up Market Street towards the Northern Quarter. About this time we were in the presence of a very special event. The Second Coming. We had just passed a group of guys when we overheard the shout: ‘Jesus Christ!’ Well I looked around, but couldn’t see Him, so we walked on. Oddly, there was nothing in the paper about the incident the next day.

As we headed in the direction of the Quarter, there were a few incidents we could see up ahead, involving police on horses, so we hedged our bets and turned right for the safety of Canal Street and the Village. This place just never changes, and I must admit I had preferred the adrenalin rush of being in ‘straight’ Deansgate. So we had a couple of drinks in Taurus, which was getting quiet, and headed over to Naps, to take our out-of-town friends. Nap’s was the usual, and the dance music was absolutely lousy, which didn’t really bother me at this stage as I had a blister on my heel from living in my stilettos for the last 12 hours. An occupational hazard, I guess.

At about 3-ish we left together and headed back to the hotel in a cab. It had been a really great evening out, and ended with another nightcap in the hotel bar, where by this time we must have really looked the worse for wear!

An absolutely fabulous (Becky’s impersonation of Patsy!) time! Thanks girls!