My friends of New York days, of course, were largely drawn from those I had met during my Toronto studies, and I continue to remain in touch with them from this side of the world. I cannot speak too high- ly of the friends I made throught cross-dressing in the USA and will cherish them always. When I returned to the United States for study leave in 1978 I was able to pick up my friendships again as if I had never left, and I hope that I will always be able to do so.

But, I get ahead of myself. In 1973 I returned to Australia for family reasons, and worked for four years for a large univer- sity before returning to my hometown, Sydney, and the col- lege milieu in 1977. I continued 'to indulge myself as Fiona whenever possible, and frequent- ly when away from home on conferences or for seminars was able to spend extended periods dressed. I have always found that the one-night stand is really insufficient for real satisfaction, as it is impossible for me to submerge my male persona com- pletely in the time available, and the event is more like 'dressing- up' than like real life. Given a weekend, or better still a full week, in skirts, the novelty dis- appears and the real joy begins. I feel more and more com- fortable, and more and more feminine, so that the return to masculinity at the end of the time seems like the masquerade for a while. There is also the near-agony which I am sure many cross-dressers have exper- ienced, when the threshold is passed between male and female appearance (for me it is usually marked by the removal of my wig... an act which requires great resolution, as it seems al- most like self-destruction).

I should perhaps at this point make the statement that, like many cross-dressers (though few admit it), I have experi- mented with female hormones

in order to achieve a reasonable breast development, and can wear low cut dresses or swimsuits without recourse to padding or falsies, and have also taken to complete waxing of bodily and facial hair before 'special' or extended occasions, so that I am not reminded of my maleness each morning on waking* I consider this very much my own business, as my body is my own, and I have as much right to alter it to suit my self- image as any person has to lose weight, gain it, pierce their ears or in any other way modify the form they are born with. Nor do I consider it in any way im- proper or offensive of me to reveal those parts of me which conform to the female image I so desperately wish to convey, and, where it is appropriate (which is virtually any Sydney beach these days). I will go topless with the other topless ladies. I even went to one of Sydney's two officially sanc- tioned nude beaches recently, with two real girls who are friends of mine, although I will admit I did not remove my bikini bottom!

One of the advantages of the group, of course, is that when parties or adventures are set up, not everyone wants to wear skirts! The fantasy adventures are usually fairly well scripted and are carefully planned...but they always go wrong, which is part of the fun! On one of the early outings a group of us were supposed to visit an island in Sydney Harbour, which is a public park by day, but is supposed to be deserted night. My part was written as a cigarette girl, but I never did find out what the plot was meant to be, as other characters included King Arthur and Queen Guinevere, a Roman centurion, a construction worker complete with hard-hat and a monk. I never found out the plot be- cause at that time, everything went wrong virtually from the outset. King Arthur, the con- struction worker and I (in micro- skirt, peasant blouse, fishnet tights and high patent stilettos) were deposited on the island by boat, but then everything went hay-wire, with the launch break- ing down the driver of the boat, the monk, had to swim ashore in all his monkly drag); the rescue dinghy capsized with Guinevere and the centurion on board, and they had to swim a- shore to join us and finally, after despairing of any of the remaining cast being able to or- ganise a rescue, we had to signal the water police! I must ad- mit I thought my brilliant career was about to collapse in lurid newspaper headlines the next day, but my nice hostess (Guinevere, a really stunning RG) was so charming to the police that they hardly noticed me at all, and finished up taking us back to Guinever's water- front apartment building. As the Sergeant in charge said, "I'm not even going to write a report. Nobody would ever believe it." As soon as the launch touched the dock I was over the bow rail and scuttling for the safety of the apartment, No. That was ify

Since my return to Sydney I have made the acquaintance of a group of charming and utterly mad people, who indulge in adventures of the greatest fan- tasy and ingenuity. I made their acquanintance through an Amer- ican friend who had picked up a Sydney-based ad. in a counter- culture paper and clipped it for me. With some reserve I answered the ad., and found, to my delight, that the person concerned was a life-long friend of my family, who was into cross-dressing and also into what I can only call 'constructive fantasy'. I was rapidly made to feel welcome in the group (not all of whom are cross-dressers; most are fun-loving party givers and goers), and I have probably done more zany things as Fiona in the last five years than I had done in my previous forty-two.

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* Fiona's ancestry to supposed by partly Asian, So the hours may be matemate to light