Book 2, Chapter 39

Looking at the Old Naval College at Greenwich from a water taxi out in the river Thames I felt a fraud but then I imagine so did people like Admiral Nelson. Impressive buildings can do that to you. At least I wasn’t shivering in the chill wind thanks to the foul-weather jacket I'd been bought by the wardrobe assistant. I was in the middle of London yet wearing that jacket and deck shoes because I was told it gave me the right image, and as the water-taxi came alongside Greenwich Pier I jumped ashore with a bow line to secure us. It was such a small thing; something I'd done many times back in Cardiff but according to the director that shot was going into the opening credits because it gave me credibility.

This was my real introduction to documentary making. Before I had been a subject shown as myself and hoping that I didn't appear too ‘cringeworthy’. Now as a presenter the object of the exercise was to give the documentary credibility and as long as that happened it didn't matter about discrepancies between Venus the Presenter and Venus the Person. Kelly had been spot on! Not that I didn’t like the black jacket and the cream shoes were comfortable but why such dull colours? Why not pink!

Filming the expert’s explanation of sextants and their earlier incarnations, like the backstaff, was easier than I expected. I was given a very few words to say then the museum expert ran with it. I soon learnt that for much of the programme's filming I didn't even need to be there. At about 5:30 pm I was wanted however when we all made our way down to a launch moored at the pier and headed out into the Thames Estuary. The idea was to show me taking a star sight at dusk, when both the stars and the horizon are visible to measure the angle between the two however, when I opened my sextant box, it was the expert who took out the sextant and held it up to his eye. Wondering if he didn't trust me I gently took it from his fingers, turned it upside down and replaced it in his hand.

"Point the telescope at the star and adjust the arm until the horizon reflected in the mirror comes up to the star… it's much easier that way than finding the star in the mirror while the telescope is pointed at the horizon. Once you gave got close to the proper angle you can turn the sextant the right way up to make a last fine adjustment."

The expert went through the steps I'd described with me beside him and at the end as I closed the box on Bill's safely stowed sextant I thought the director was going to kiss me - she definitely wasn’t my type!

Back in the flat at Victoria Docks, which I was glad Litara still had access to despite her friendship with Simon in Cardiff, we went over my day. Litara hadn’t been on the boat with us either time and laughed as I described taking a star sight.

"The best documentaries often have lots of accidental nuggets. It's like at school where the best teachers were prepared but often a bit scatty. It was their scatty ways that got us involved in the class."

As we cooked and ate our risotto together our chat ranged further. I had a hospital checkup appointment next day and Litara planned to play guitar and sing at Thursday's folk club meeting down at the pub. Wednesday I would be filming in the countryside with a 'very sexy' Special Forces type of man who specialised in 'natural navigation' and Litara bet me I would have trouble keeping my hands off him. The age difference between Litara and I seemed to be evaporating and she seemed almost to forget there had been a Dai, even when I talked about the hospital.

Curled up to watch a movie that night in our nighties and dressing gowns after long hot baths (yes there were two!), I couldn't have been more relaxed. We gave each other pedicures and the only dark cloud on my horizon was the question I hoped to have answered next day. Where were my periods?

"You have a choice Venus, whether to continue trying to let mother nature take its course or to try to chivvy her along with some extra œstrogen."

My consultant Charles Pitt and I were alone together after a day with all the tests I had come to expect but even larger audiences. My own Frankensteinian research scientist was, I thought, revelling in his audience of students and visiting colleagues while my surgeon,… ? It has been suggested that just maybe God was a woman despite the distinctly male lavatorial humour evident in many creations but my surgeon before her entourage was in no doubt that she was god and had created, through me, woman in her own image!

"Give me some facts to work with Charles. Is my body maturing or is it frozen in some perpetual pre-pubescence?"

"Your body is definitely not frozen. Even in girls without your childhood problems we don't think of late menarche as a problem until past 16 years old and it can be delayed but quite healthy up to 18 years old. You know that my speciality is in healing mechanisms and growth is part of that. Your body has healed particularly well since the operation which was only 16 weeks ago. Whereas in February I described you as like a 12 year old internally, now, other than you only having one ovary, you look as healthy as a late developing 16 year old on the brink of maturity."

I didn't have an explanation for the way I felt but while a large part of me wanted to say ‘Give me the injection or pills or whatever!’ another part was saying ‘Don't rush.’ I wasn't ready to have a baby even if I could so why rush?

"My 19th birthday is on July 5th. Can I hold on until then, Charles?"

"The body is yours to choose but I would be more than happy to back that decision. Your genes are unusual, not only in being chimeric but also in your racial mix yet despite that they have kept you alive and fitter than most so let's give them the opportunity to do their own work."