Book 2, Chapter 63

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised summed up how I felt making my morning run with Beth. It was June 2001 and race discrimination, sex discrimination and homophobia were on the back foot - not destroyed but no longer protected by law in the practical world of jobs and services. Now, I was convinced it was my duty to add my weight to the fight for the right to chose my own gender without, in those same areas of jobs and services at least, being crippled by discrimination.

“Do you think that you would be feminist if in 1970 you were an African- American, civil rights campaigning man?” I asked Beth as we walked up the garden path at the end of our run.

“You really need to get laid Vee. No 18-year-old girl should be thinking of that sort of thing at this time of day!”

Physically I might have shrugged at Beth’s flippant dismissal but I suspected that those born transgender women were no more likely to receive help from feminist activists than were women of colour from their activist menfolk. We can each only cope with one fight at a time.

The day’s work with Ian, fitting new roller furling gear to a yacht replacing everything after being dismasted, focussed my mind away from the medical in blustery conditions but at the end of the day I had an appointment with Dr Carter.

“The formal word for a girl’s first menstruation is ‘menarche.’ It doesn’t show that ovulation has occurred as about 80% of a girl’s cycles aren’t accompanied by ovulation in the first year after menarche but that drops to 50% in the third and 10% in the sixth year. Normally the NHS doesn’t recommend a fertility test unless women have trouble conceiving but in your case, with your surgery, only one ovary and a strong desire to have children, I would like some blood to do an AMH, that’s an Anti-Mullarian Hormone, test. When the results are back I would also like you to see Dr Stanhope.”

Dr Carter seemed more business-like than normal during my visit and that gave me an inkling that as a patient she viewed me as one with whom she didn’t want to be seen making any mistake. Of course one day she might be on the 9 o’clock news as the first doctor to deliver a baby to a man! This was confirmed when she then phoned Dr Stanhope on her private line.

“Marj? It’s Jane. I have Miss Venus Williams here and wonder if you would fit in a consultation with her regarding the results for an AMH, fertility test?” A pause was followed by a smile then a look at me while saying, “Friday at 4 pm ok with you?”

I nodded agreement and started to rise but the doctor held up her hand while putting away her phone. “Your number one fan saw you on Saturday, sailing single-handed into Milford Haven.”

Remembering an earlier request to add an autograph to a photo of me that Dr Carter had ready in her desk I recalled that the misguided fan was her niece.

“Just how old is this niece because she does seem to get about?”

“Eight with parents who thought they were having a weekend trip to Oakwood Theme Park until my niece Chloe saw a poster advertising you nearby with Dumblebit.”

“If I’d known I would have been happy to invite her aboard. How about if her parents bring her to visit for afternoon tea aboard on Sunday afternoon in Cardiff Marina? I’m bringing Dumblebit back from Swansea overnight on Friday and it would be no problem.”

Why I offered I don't know but I gave Dr Carter my mobile number and said that Chloe was lucky to have her for an aunt before again starting to rise. Again Dr Carter held up her hand.

“You forgot something.”

An armful of blood later I left.

During the week Da and Ian did find me some work to do but my biggest earner was bilge cleaning a big yacht whose engine had been removed after disintegrating with a parting gift of oil spread everywhere. Life seems to be determined that I not ‘get above myself’ but there are days when I wish that life were not so emphatically ‘grubby’! I mention that because despite my best efforts to look at least half attractive by the end of the work week when I called in on Dr Stanhope while still in my work-clothes with a battered holdall of sailing gear on my shoulder I was not at my best.

“I guess the pink princess persona was a passing phase,” Dr Stanhope commented as I entered her office.

“You must be thinking of my sister,” I replied. “And I see you still haven’t got a proper job.”

Pleasantries satisfied we got down to the test results. “Dr Carter asked me to go over these with you in case they were bad but I'll start by saying that they are not bad and you stand a good chance of being what we technically call a ‘baby-making factory’ unless you take care. Your London specialists will be in the best position to make judgement calls on contraception but given your past I imagine that they might advise against using anything but barrier methods by which I mean condoms and caps.”

She went on to spend nearly half an hour discussing the temptations and dangers I would face first as that almost mythical beast, a 18-year-0ld virgin and then as a woman wanting some control over when she had babies. It was embarrassing but I appreciated her effort. By my age other girls had lots of practise in keeping out of trouble while I was in experience still relatively a child.

The conversation continued going through my head as travelled by train to Swansea, prepared and set off on Dumblebit, sailing East along the coast, then went below to make dinner. It was only well into the night as I relaxed in the cockpit keeping watch in busy waters that I took proper stock of the sailing conditions. It was a beautiful clear night. So close to civilisation I couldn't see the multitude of stars I'd seen far from land but I could see that the city of Swansea behind and larger towns along the way each lived under its own dome of light while smaller villages showed groups of twinkling lights. Occasionally, on darker stretches I would see an individual car making its way along the coast road.

So many people getting on with their lives unaware that I was sailing by but I could imagine what they were doing so I didn’t feel alone. Even among those ashore who led very suburban lives there were those for whom it was important that somebody takes the road less travelled be it up a mountain, into the depths or sailing around the world. In part Dumblebit and I would follow the path of Endeavour and James Cook for those people. Some of them would dream of doing something similar while others would feel superior knowing their choices were better. I say ‘in part’ because this night was good and for my own pleasure I was beginning to look forward to many more days and nights on Dumblebit wherever she took me in this wide world.