The weeks passed by, and before I knew it we had reached the October half-term break. I was relieved to finally have a week off work. While some of the classes I was teaching were enjoyable - year 7 were just so infectious in their naive enthusiasm, and year 12 were quite profound in some of their observations on Shakespeare and Christina Rossetti's poetry - the others were becoming less and less pleasant.

The day after our anniversary, I woke up feeling rather chipper. Spending a romantic evening with my wife had buried deeper the doubts I'd been having about my true identity. They weren't gone completely: there remained a lingering voice trying to tell me that something was wrong, but I chose to ignore it. I couldn't possibly be Dennis Mellon; my body clearly demonstrated otherwise. Plus every single person I'd interacted with the previous day - my wife, pupils and colleagues - all referred to me as Denise or Mrs McGrath. My doubts could do one as far as I was concerned.

I spent the next morning with my parents. We didn't do anything in particular, just had breakfast together and mooched about the house. The introduction of Tabitha was an obvious elephant in the room, but it didn't feel like there was any dreaded anticipation attached to her homecoming. More just a biding of time until it was to happen.

It reached 11.45am, and I said I'd better be heading off. No need to say where or why.

"Ok, darling", my mum said. "We'll see you when you get back home."

My dad, head buried in the morning newspaper, raised his hand to bid me adieu.

I woke up the next morning not 100% certain where I was. My memory of the preceding evening was hazy and my head felt heavy.

'This is surreal', I thought. 'You're playing in the girls' cup final, Tabitha, in front of all of these people...and it feels AMAZING!'

I played the ball back to our centre half, Wendy, from kick-off. We tried to keep possession for a bit but Shevington applied an unbelievably quick press and they took control of the ball before we were able to string three passes together. That set the tone for the rest of the first half.

It was a strange feeling that followed our semi-final. On the one hand, we had done brilliantly in reaching the cup final, which had always been our aim. On the other hand, we would have to play the final without our captain, Katie. I felt particularly bad: she'd only been sent off because she was acting to protect me. I did express this to her, but she wasn't having any of it.

"Don't be silly. It's my own fault, I act before thinking sometimes. But at least I made it a good one, wiped the stupid cow right off her feet."

We both shared a laugh and a hug.

We spent the next two days finalising our preparation for the match against St. Mary's. The county cup was an 8 team tournament, meaning that this was a quarter final match. Win, and we'd be in the semi finals, and another win there would put us in the final.

Despite my heroics in the first training session, where I'd scored a hat-trick and felt unbeatable, I was beginning to see how playing in the girls team would be no walk in the park.

Miss Snell dropped me off just outside the local bowling alley at around 5pm. I asked her if she was joining us, but she said that this was just for the team and she didn't want to 'cramp our style'.

"Enjoy yourself, and I'll pick you up later. Just give me a call when you're ready." And with that, she left.

Mr Phillips and I sat down at the kitchen table while Miss Snell prepared lunch. Engaging in small talk with your old P.E. teacher who you were responsible for getting fired, all while dressed as a female alter-ego, was a very unique experience.

"So Tabitha, Miss Snell tells me you'll be playing for her girls team at the school. What position do you play?"

"Um, usually striker but sometimes in the centre of midfield", I replied, trying to master my feminine voice (which I had been practising the previous night when talking with Miss Snell).