Oh, and answering the phone.

“Good afternoon you’re speaking to Janice. How can I help?” I say each time in my soft ‘female’ voice.

I guess I’d have been happier if is they all said

‘you’re not called Janice…

you’re a bloke!’

but not a single one did.

At least that would have given us a good reason for me not to go through with this ever so important meeting.

As three P M approached I became increasingly nervous.

I told her that I was getting cold feet

however she just grinned and offered me a pair of tights.

“Simon you’re doing perfectly.

You look the part, you act the part, you speak the part…”

she paused and inhaled.

“…you even smell like a woman.” she told me.

“Can’t you just tell them I couldn’t make it?” I suggested.

“Tell them I’m sick or a family matter’s come up….

anything.”

“After all we’ve done?” Mum said.

“Anyway, I’m sure they’d smell a rat if my PA didn’t attend.”

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