enjoying the "Eurostar" high speed train through the channel tunnel from Paris to London:

Things didn't start off well. Like it had been last year an important meeting came up just the week of Mardi Gras. Mardi Gras is as Halloween the excuse to dress up in girl mode and go out. Now, if you have read the rest of my homepage you know that I don't really need something like Mardi Gras to go out as B‚atrice, but an excuse to do so is always nice and on top of it, this was different because my meeting was to be in London. Big deal, B‚atrice has walked the streets of London more than once before in her heels, but this time the idea came up to take the high speed train from Paris to London (TGV: "train … grande vitesse", called the Eurostar on this destination) in B‚atrice mode. This would be the second time to try out how I could pass boarder controls in femme mode with a male passport !

I organized the dates accordingly after having discussed the subject with my wife. This was for a number of reasons, basically because I'm a nice hubby and try to keep her informed and also because I needed her winter coat for some days laugh. She didn't seem to be too astonished at all, maybe even getting used to the idea to see me off as B‚atrice, her biggest concern being that I could loose or damage her cashmere coat.

Preparations started the evening before when I put on my double layer of nail varnish to gain some time for the next day (I always mess this one up when I do it last moment and a bit nervous). I also prepared my bag and purse. Damn, two personalities in one small bag, that's not easy. Next morning, hands in the pockets of my trouser (the kids !) until they were off to school. Once they left the house the almost routine thing:

On with the undies, and the skirt-suit, then make-up and the jewelry and wig. Slip in the heels and I'm ready, even too early and I can have a little bit more of coffee.

My beloved wife then drove me to the local railway station. This was a new one to me, I hadn't yet taken the suburb train in femme mode. So what? All the things B‚atrice has done so far were a first on the first occasion, anticipating I already had bought the ticket the day before. The train ride was without anything mentionable. I then decided to continue by M‚tro (subway) to the "Gare du Nord". Although not rush-hour the M‚tro was quite full and I even had to stand for a while at the scrutiny of every other bored traveler on this subway. No detectable read, but I have to admit I didn't look around too much try to find out who of the other travelers looked at me and what they might think.

At last at the railway station. It was noon and time for aperitif and I thought I could need one now. I found a little bar inside the station and had a glass of wine. I then quickly bought some newspapers for the three hour train ride and proceeded to the identity and security checks, well ahead time - just in case of problems. I was alone when I showed the immigration officer my male passport, ready to hand him over my TG membership card. He vaguely glanced at it, he had obviously already accepted my status. I don't know if he knew it was Mardi Gras that day !

The rest including boarding the train was easy, plenty of "Madame"s, I even asked to change my seat because I was not sitting in the direction of the movement of the train. I could do this as the compartment was pretty empty. I Still got always "Madame" replies and I don't know if genuine or just friendly accepting. But do I really want to know if or if not they realized? I mean they must have realized after one and a half hour of train and food service ! In the mean time the British immigration officers passed and without any hesitation accepted my male passport without even that I had to show my special card or to have to do any explanation. This became almost disappointing (but please keep it like that)

After arrival in London Waterloo there was another passport check to my surprise. Again it seemed that the validity of, and any visas in the passport were more important than the fact if my photo corresponded to my appearance. Most astonishing in a way ! The tube was on strike so I took the cab to my downtown hotel without any problem, nor in the cab neither checking in the hotel.

After one and a half days walking around London town in my heels, taking the tube and shopping everywhere (including Harrods of course) the work bit finally came up and after that it finally was time to return to Paris. Difficult decision, back as B‚atrice or in male mode ? No Mardi Gras to help as an excuse, but on the other hand it would have been virtually impossible to fit all the stuff, including my wife's cashmere coat in my tiny rolling case. So here we go again.

All made up, but , oops, my last pair of stay ups had a run, it is always the same problem when B‚atrice travels!! .... Anyway put them on and check out of the hotel. A walk to the nearby local train station. No surprise in the train which brought me directly to Waterloo. I had to buy some new tights and changed to them in the ladies inside the Eurostar zone. I have read in the meantime that in the UK being discovered as a TG in the ladies could lead to serious trouble (police) but I have no choice in a way: my female presentation seems to be so convincing that I am sure I will be in trouble if I use the gents, so I use the ladies without hanging around in front of the mirror most of the time although I have done the touching up of make up at the ladies before (in France)!

I took a glass of wine at the bar and sat down to take some notes of my business part of the trip. At boarding time I was surprised to have no identity check on departure. But of course I was sure that there would be passport controls on in the train by the French. At almost my deception, there wasn't at all, neither in the train, nor on arrival in Paris. After all maybe it was better like that.

I phoned my wife who explained that she couldn't pick me up at the local railway station for some reason (which is too far away from home to walk) so I took a taxi. I had a nice chat with the cab-driver who had of course rapidly understood but was completely accepting. And that is it ! Nothing more, nothing less, just an ordinary train ride for an (almost) ordinary girl.

Tell me your stories, OK ? promised ?

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