CHAPTER 26
What to say about the weekend? It was a weekend in Wales, in Spring, so it rained. Fortunately, there were women already on site who knew how to put up what they called a ‘Canadienne’ ridge tent. When I say that they knew, they still watched as we put our pair up in different but equally wrong ways, laughed, and only then showed us the right way., but thanks to them we actually stayed dry. At least inside our tents.

It didn’t rain all the time. In fact, we only had two major showers, on the Friday evening and Saturday morning, so we were able to sit out on a rug when the live music was on, and I will be honest: I didn’t enjoy all of it. There were a couple of very earnest singer/songwriter women with guitars, and the second one was rather better than the other. We had two different folk groups, one of which performed largely in Welsh, three comedians, one of whom was actually funny, and on Saturday night the folkies got together to play us through some country dancing silliness, which was far funnier than two of the alleged comedians. There were poetry readings, lectures on discrimination law and Lesbian Separatism, book and jewellery stalls and a mix of catering that leant heavily towards organic fart fuel rather than lard.

Oh, and a bar. I mustn’t forget the bar. Amina Had Words with Lil about being too critical of the servers, while Ange and I simply took what was on offer, consumed it and went back for more. I think the only one of us not asleep on the way home that Sunday was Amina, which left me feeling more than a little guilty. Ange stayed over at mine, which was always a delight, and as we lay in bed, she asked an obvious question.

“No men there, Jen. I mean, I know there were trans women there, but only a dick calls them men. How did you feel?”

“Honestly? I don’t know, Ange. I mean, it was nice to be away from them, but I don’t know if I would like that as, you know, the way things are, default, aye? No Tom, no Paul, no Sergeant Gould?”

I thought back to that awful day.

“Lots of arseholes about, and yeah, most of them have cocks, but there are some… Did I tell you about that multiple pile-up we had?”

“Don’t think so”

“Not going into details, not this time of night. Very young child dead on scene… No. All you need to know. Anyway, it was a real mess, whole range of injuries, and the first responder was a bike cop. He sorted out a lot of the mess on his own, did a perfect handover to us, the Brigade, other Traffic units, aye? Then once he was clear, he just sat on a crash barrier and wept. That woman that did the talk on separatism, she’d leave people like him on the outside”

I paused for a while, trying to order my thoughts.

“I don’t know if I can get this to make sense, but I can’t get on with the idea of being some sort of special. I’m just a person, me. I happen to fancy people like me, not men. That political shit, apart from, you know, equal rights, I’m not interested. Quiet life, me”

Another thought came to me.

“Ange, one of the things I’m always having to do is explain my PCOS. Gives me a sort of insight into what trans girls have to put up with”

“Yeah, but it’s men who do the nasty to them, isn’t it?”

“Not really. Men tend---this is just my experience, right? Men tend to shout stuff, name-calling, but women, they can be nastier. They say things like ‘rapist’, and that’s when it gets really risky, cause some men hear that, and want to help”

“White knights”

“Sorry?”

“Rushing to the fair maiden’s rescue”

“Ah. Yeah. I had a couple of those when I was younger. Not so many now, thankfully. I think the uniform helps”

“You got attacked?”

“Yep. Not badly, but it still shook me. That’s why I do the PCOS announcement so quickly”

“Jen?”

“Yeah?”

“What are we doing this Summer?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not on an EU passport, but it’s still mostly visa free. I’d like to do a bit of tourist stuff, tick some boxes. I was planning on doing some interrailing, but on my own it just felt a bit scary”

She wriggled a little, whether to get more comfortable or closer to me I didn’t know, nor care, because it ended up doing the latter.

“Wasn’t planning to get sort of hooked up, Jen. But, well, if you fancy, I have a sort of plan”

“Which is?”

“Get a cheap flight somewhere, then work our way back by train. Got three sort-of-plan-things, alternatives, ey?”

“Tell me…”

“Fly to Rome. Come up Italy to Florence and then Nice, along the Mediterranean coast to Barcelona, then back up through France. Or to Innsbruck, west through Austria to Germany and then up the Rhine. Or to Budapest, then Bratislava, Prague, Vienna, Munich, Cologne, maybe Berlin, Hamburg, ferry back. But not bloody camping”

We drifted off to sleep as she muttered about Venice, warm beaches and chocolate museums, real Alpine bars as opposed to Cardiff imitations, and it all felt so, so right.

I ran her ideas past Tom a week later, and he just grinned.

“No difficult choices for me and Con, Jen. Down West to the caravan with the dogs does us”

“You not get bored with the same place, time after time?”

“Nope. It’s comfy, we know what’s where, and it’s great for the dogs. What more do we need?”

“Vitamin D supplements for the weather?”

“Cheeky! Anyway, which of her ideas grabs you?”

“Ah, they’ve each got their appeal, butt. To be honest, I think her idea of going all the way to Barcelona is a bit over-ambitious, but I found an alternative, two in fact. The Prague thing would be great, but no beaches. And it’s a funny thing, her being a Kiwi. How well do you know the North, Tom?”

“Snowdonia? Not that well”

“Yeah, bit like me, and it’s not that far away. Ange is literally from the other side of the world, and she knows more about those places in Europe than I do. Got me reading up on them, and it’s infectious. All those places I didn’t know I just have to see, aye? I’ve even bought a rail map of Europe!”

“Jen…”

“Yeah?”

“Just flying a kite here, but don’t feel it all has to be done at once”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re worried it won’t last, aren’t you? You and her?”

“Tom, I’m… Tom. This… this is my first serious relationship, aye? I have no idea how to play it”

“That’s a good start, anyway”

“What is?”

“Admitting to both of us, me and you, that you’re not seeing it as just a fling. You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think this might be her way of seeing how serious you both are. She might be fishing, Jen. Seeing how far you’re willing to commit, bit by bit. You need to get your head clear on that. Anyway, what are those alternatives you said you looked at?”

“Oh, fly to Toulouse, then go down to the Spanish border, possibly Barcelona. Back along the coast to Nice, then one of two ways north through France to Paris and then either ferry or Eurostar. Getting to Paris would either be via Avignon---”

“Sur le pont?”

“Yup. Or there’s a private rail line, goes up into the hills, and then it would be Grenoble and Annecy. Never heard of that one before, but the pictures are amazing—big lake for swimming”

“You really like your swimming, don’t you?”

“As long as the water’s warmer than at bloody Penarth, butt”

“Fair point, if a bit unnecessary. Some lovely beaches near our caravan”

“Aye, and the water’s still bloody arctic. I’ve also looked at some towns around Innsbruck, and there are swimming lakes there as well, with warm water in the Summer”

“So you’ve not given this much thought, then. One thing to do, as I said”

“Which is?”

“Talk to Ange. Let her know your thoughts. Important, that”

He was, of course, right, and I did my best with her to run through more concrete plans, mostly via my laptop in bed. When I pulled up the pictures of that big blue lake, Ange actually squealed with delight.

“Bugger bloody miserable German cities, Jen! At least for this trip, ey? That looks wonderful”

I switched to some other links I’d saved, of the Spanish border and an old walled city that could have been built for Disney, and that was when our plans became far more concrete. Just France this time, those two words saying so much, with a flight to Toulouse, that walled city, some beach time as we worked along the coast to Nice, then the private train into the mountains for lake swimming, a few days in Paris and a cheap flight straight back to Cardiff.

We had a plan, one that worked for both of us. The only trouble was that the only time we could both get off would be in June, which was nearly on us. We started booking the tickets the next day.