Book 2, Chapter 64

I came into Cardiff at 10 a.m on a rising tide after being awake all night.

“You stupid bitch!”

“I’m sorry, I’ll be with you as soon as I’ve moored.”

At the best of times boats are difficult to manoeuvre with wind, current and even whether the propellor is right or left-handed all likely to throw unpredictable elements into the supposedly simple task of turning to port or starboard. The misogynist who’d shouted hadn’t made life easier by leaving a fishing rod sticking out over his stern quarter but then if I’d been more awake I might not have reduced the rod to carbon fibre shards.

Admittedly it was another 10 minutes before I’d berthed Dumblebit safely and returned to the scene of the crime but anyone who knows boats knows that berthing one takes longer than parking a car and I never expected him to swing for me as I approached. A boxer he’d never make as the punch was telegraphed but unfortunately instead of swaying back out of reach and running I stepped inside the roundhouse punch and brought my foot down on his instep. Rather than stop to argue while he hopped and cursed I placed my newly printed business card in his jacket pocket and retreated swiftly while offering to replace the rod if he would give me the details.

A couple of minutes later I was in the marina office reporting the incident when my red-faced neighbour with a broken rod burst in demanding I pay him £250 as recompense.

“You can demand all you like but I don’t have £250 here and in any case I’ll only replace the rod, not give you the first ludicrous amount you thought of. If the rod was so valuable to you perhaps you should have considered not leaving it sticking sideways out of your boat.

That’s when the office manager called security who asked us both to leave the marina until we’d settled our disagreement or at least calmed down.

Trudging back home I felt utterly helpless. The sailing had been so satisfying but all it took was one idiot to remind me that everything of my material life ashore only survived by, if not complete tolerance, then my neighbours at least not resorting successfully to violence. Clearly I wasn’t going to please everyone when it became generally known that I was pressuring for the right for everyone to choose the gender they would be considered for the purposes of the law and services but the unanswered question was would I or my family be materially attacked? While at sea I would be safe but objectors could try to get at me through my family and Litara in particular would be vulnerable to business pressure for using me as the prominent face in her work.

Once home I explained to Mum, Da and Litara what had happened over the broken rod at the marina then asked them to consider the threat to them if instead of annoying a rod owner I annoyed to the point of attack someone opposed to my lobbying for a change in law. I didn’t have to explain my position on gender laws to them because they’d all witnessed my tirade at the dinner table the previous Sunday so I simply offered to keep a low profile until I left for Madeira if they felt it advisable and asked Litara to consider any extra suggestions she might have before I headed up to bed for a couple of hours sleep.

I never got the answer I was waiting for when I woke as Mum and Da insisted that , no matter how unreasonable it felt, I was not going to skip the Saturday dance class. As is the way of these things, once there I found dancing was a great way to lay my concerns aside especially when John and Judy switched from the formal ballroom dancing warm up lesson to a more modern interpretation for the main class of the Cha-cha.

Back at the house exhausted, it was Mum who unexpectedly shepherded us into the lounge because she wanted to say something.

“It was kind of you to offer to delay your lobbying Venus but I think you’d do better to make the most of what little time you have remaining ashore to meet politicians and the like… Litara told me she has some options for you on that. Before I knew about your medical condition I wouldn’t have given any thought to the children like Arwen that you and Isaac met but now I’ve been confronted by the problems you will have in the future I agree entirely with your decision to join forces with them. In fact I’m proud that you have made that choice. When I was growing up in Wales the only people of colour on the television were on precisely because they weren’t white but now people like Trevor McDonald are as representative as anyone of being British. When I saw you on the television doing the exposé of modelling classes it was because you could do the job well and I don't want you held back by laws and attitudes toward the those born transgender that are all to similar to the racist and sexist laws and attitudes of the past.”

I was stunned. Mum is no saint, in fact it was no accident the she didn’t mention homophobia because despite knowing Evan and Martina well she didn’t support gay marriage in Church. What Mum is could best be described as the powerhouse of our family. With physical problems Dad is the one I want beside me; if I wanted to throw a party in Timbuktu I’d turn to Litara but if I wanted to conquer a country Mum is the one who’d get it done.

Next afternoon I had good reason to be pleased at the way Mum had explained her position. I made some effort baking on Sunday morning and took the results, along with my guitar, down to the boat. Jane Carter arrived with her brother and sister-in-law promptly at 4 pm as I'd asked. Holding her daddy’s hand because she was very shy came Chloe who Dr Carter hadn’t thought to mention was born a Tutsi and adopted at the time her new parents were doing medical work in Rwanda. Luckily children, or at least Chloe, are generally drawn to bad singing and Chloe relaxed as she instructed her family and myself how we should really sing ‘Row, row, row your boat’ fueled by orange squash and fresh baked Welsh cakes.

ps There might be delays with my posts over the next few days as I am touring