Transvestia

step along the street and to salute smartly every officer that passed. It was fun to go into the City and see a show, matinee or evening. It was fun to

feel ourselves in the world of women and an accepted part of it. It was fun to wander into the department stores and watch a style show or a lingerie display. It was fun to enter a restaurant and to be accepted as girls. We all enjoyed life, hugely.

One day as three of us were wandering around Harrod's big store I saw a sign that said "Apply here for work." Just for fun, I said that I was going to apply. I was given a long printed form to be made out and signed, which I did. Then I handed it in and the Personnel Manager who accepted it seemed to be very busy because she only glanced at it and at me and said "We'll let you know if we need you." and that was all there was to the interview. I rather forgot all about it.

Almost four months later came the big surprise a notice in the mail that I had been accepted by Harrod's and should report for work within ten days time. I took it, of course, as a big joke. I was not sure whether the joke was on me or on Harrods, but it was good for a laugh. That morning I went over to Mrs. Swenson's to pick up several uniforms that she had altered, and I showed it to her. I ex- pected a big laugh; instead she said, "You are lucky.' That stopped me and made me think. Here were hundreds of thousands of discharged soldiers, and WAAC'S, hunt- ing for jobs; most of them could not find employment and existed on the dole; and here was little me with a paid job offered to me. Yes, I was lucky. Then Mrs. Swenson added "Of course that will mean civilian clothes and dresses."

That made me think. Here I was, in England and completely free of personal responsibility. The long vacation was about to begin and I had no plans of where to go or what to do. I was accustomed to be- ing a WAAC. Why not? I could always quit if I wanted

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