I grew up, an only child, and never saw myself as other than a boy. I did boy’s things and even had a “girlfriend” when I was six. Of course it was simply that I loved the way Sally dressed and was, I suppose; proud she enjoyed being with me. Of course this was a passing thing and she moved on. But maybe it was a start. Probably more important was my beautiful mother. She had what was then called an “office job”. She had been privately educated and we, unlike the huge majority (who rented), lived in a modern semi - with a garage but no a car! Mother did not stay strictly private and I saw her complete her dressing - I mean putting on stockings and fastening them to suspenders. She then left for work always dressed in what was then called a costume - a matching top and skirt. As she left she clicked away in her high heels. She was, I soon noticed, very different from most women. Once we reached the tram stop (some distance from our slightly “posh” home) for the city and school, I soon saw the difference… Most women then, were in rough clothes and aprons en route for my city’s many factories.