The times, they are a-Changin'

Once upon a time, there was a man I was quite simply mad about. I'll call him D. He supported me through some very turbulent times and never stopped believing in me, even when I couldn't go to my local supermarket without someone shouting abuse at me in the car park. "I didn't know they sell hookers here now ! Is it buy one get one free ?" When you consider that D was raised in 1950's Ireland, then his support was all the more important, because it broke through every societal barrier you can think of.

"Never let these people get to you, hold your head up high. What matters is how you feel about yourself and those around you who will love you regardless." In time, came the shocking news that D was dying, he had terminal cancer and it was a matter of weeks, which very quickly became days. With a huge knot in my stomach, I went to his bed side and was truly lost for something to say. I didn't want him to see me getting upset so I smiled and asked him how he was feeling.

"I'm not afraid of dying, I've made my peace. Besides, the priest was in and I told him to put me down for everything except rape and murder". Thereafter came the explosion of maniacal laughter combined with guttural sobbing and I told him, "I'm going to miss you". His reply is something which will stay with me for the rest of my life. He said, "You may not know this but you were put on this earth to help the underdog. Be true to yourself and make sure you fulfil that promise for me".

D's funeral was hard for me, it was my first experience of death and when I kissed him goodbye as he was laid in the coffin, I thought my heart was going to physically break. I took comfort from the fact that he looked so peaceful, towards the end of his life he was in so much pain that no amount of morphine could take away the permanent frown he had. In death, he looked beautiful, so serene.

I've never forgotten D's words although it has taken me many years to work out what he meant. When D died, I was in the second year of my first degree which was law, and truly, I thought I was going to change the world. Myself and my Uni pals had an idealistic vision of challenging every law ever set into statute, but I was soon to find out that in Ireland, unless you have family in the law or are sleeping with half of the law library, getting briefs is actually incredibly difficult, if not impossible. Since I was already sleeping with half of the law library on a part time basis anyway, it seemed like a futile exercise to chase a career where every time I got to my feet I would look across the court room and be reminded of time spent on my back.

Unperturbed, I dusted myself off and went into financial services, for nine years. That went horrendously wrong in the end and I will write about it in the future, but the time isn't right yet. So the time had arrived, attempt at career number three. What to do ? I decided to go back to Uni and study, since academia has always been a part of my life and I adore a challenge. I'm still studying, and very much enjoying it too.

Through all of the changes, the upsets, the move from Ireland to Scotland and my transition from irresponsible student to semi-responsible mother, the sex industry always called me back. I've retired three times now, and not had a carriage clock yet. Over the last twelve months though, a new transition has begun. I speak to the media. I now know that I have years of experience in the sex industry under my belt and I can speak with authority against those who seek to stop what we do. Finally, I have a knowledge and an area of expertise which no-one can take away from me.

Tomorrow, I'm going to Leeds to film a documentary with Channel 4 about my work with disabled clients and I wouldn't say I'm nervous, I'm terrified, although I know it will be fine once I start. I will be throwing off my cloak of invisibility because what we do as sex workers with disabled clients is too important. The general public need to see what we do, our gentle, nurturing side.

Thank you D. Finally, now I get what you meant and I hope you're proud.

LL xx

Topiaries and Tom Cruise

Thusfar, November has been stressful beyond belief. In fact, when I recently met Rhoda Grant at Holyrood, I told her that I will be a size ten by Christmas and it's all her fault. How we laughed.

Meanwhile, at Activism HQ, we've had moments of nothingness, by which I mean, November and December are just so full on that we wondered what on earth we will campaign about come the new year. Fear not, for I have a solution.

Mandatory conscription for sixteen year old males to a two week intensive training piece on kissing. Preferably, this would be held in the dark, but I'm sure that idea would be contrary to some Human Rights Convention or another, initiated by some well meaning train spotter called Colin.

This rather unique and brilliant idea was born out of my time on Facebook yesterday, when I noticed several friends vying for the title of most notable Movember 'tache. I know I'm an escort, but were I to sponsor them all I would have to resort to shop lifting cat litter again, not a prospect I relish to be honest.

It got me thinking about the whole Magnum PI era. Remember THAT moustache ? It was iconic, it was part of his character and it was even 'cool', but I bet his make up people didn't have to kiss him. See I don't mind moustaches or beards per se, they can even be sexy. Where it becomes problematic is where the length of such facial topiaries mean I will be eternally grateful for the emergency tonsillectomy I had as a child.

The crux of the matter is this, kissing is rather like any other form of oral gratification, it needs to be built up slowly, y'all. I make no secret of my love of cheesecake but to woff it down in one would be gluttonous and anyway, the taste needs to be savoured, treasured even.

So I object, yes I said OBJECT to anyone who thinks that as a prerequisite to making the beast with two backs they can explore my larynx and expect me not to gag, (I gave up fake moaning years ago). Don't do that, dude. Softly softly catchy girly, or words to a similar effect anyway.

All of the above has been brought on by an event last night which will scar me for life. One of my friends sent me as message as follows - "Remember that day when we bunked off school and watched THAT scene from Top Gun over and over ? We rewound that Betamax tape until there was smoke coming from the machine just so we could see Tom Cruise making love in silhouette ? Well I've found the scene on You-Tube."

I was so excited I could barely contain myself, indeed boy cat dived for cover. But what I witnessed resulted in slack jawed horror. He does the tongue thing, BEFORE they've even hit the bed. UNFORGIVABLE. I thought my respect for Tom Cruise had diminished beyond any and all conceivable repair following *that* incident on Oprah's sofa, but no. I'm done with him now. And November.

LL xx

Mother of the Year

It's a very odd situation to be in really, mine I mean. Recent events have conspired to ensure that I am 95% "out", at least in my local area, but that's OK. Had I been asked how I felt about being "out" four years ago, the likelihood is you would have found me in a crumpled heap in a corner, but that's because at the time there was a very large element of a very small community determined to make sure I was "out" to all and sundry and further, to make sure that the full brunt of all that entailed in a small town was brought to bear on both myself and my daughter. How times have changed.

These days I view it as a very strong position to be in because I believe that if it's not a secret, then it can't hurt you. So my neighbours, my family and all my good friends know too, that I am a chubbier and probably narkier version of Belle. Their support and their acceptance mean a great deal to me actually, not that I'm so insecure that I would seek their support but when it comes to protecting my daughter then I will take any help that is on offer.

When we initially moved to Ayrshire some time ago, La Princess befriended a couple of little girls and at first everything was splendid although I did have one or two inner "niggles". Two of the girls concerned began to literally live at my house at weekends, ostensibly because I was a "cool" Mum, in other words I let them bake cakes in the kitchen on a Sunday and didn't have a nervous breakdown if there was some flour left on the counter. Having (at that point) never met the parents of one of the little girls though, I began to have concerns when her parents said it was perfectly OK for her to spend the night at our house and she could come back the following day, um .... whenever.

Quite obviously, I'm not a child abductor or serial killer, but they didn't know that. Again, I'm not nominating myself as "Mother of the Year", but if my heiress to the throne wanted to stay out all night then damn sure I would be down to the house to meet the parents and make sure I knew who they were and what they were about. These "sleepovers" happened on several occasions before I actually met the parents and I'm sorry, but I found that odd. Following on from that came the Sundays. I literally became the "Pied Piper" of the locality and every time I sought to go out on a Sunday with La Princess, there were two little tag alongs, kicked out of the house for the afternoon with a fiver and a "make sure you say thank you".

None of that became an issue until it became known locally who I am. Suddenly, those little girls who were kicked out of their houses routinely because their parents needed "to rest" were no longer allowed to come to my house, or hang out with my daughter. I have to tell you, that hurt. It hurt me, because I had welcomed them in with open arms when they were clearly a "nuisance" at their own homes. Stepping aside from my own feelings though, it hurt La Princess, because she couldn't understand what she had done to create such a rift, and given that I had only begun to explain to her about the nature of my job then I really couldn't explain the actions of some severely hypocritical and bigoted parents.

The good news is, since then we moved again and are now surrounded by the most wonderful, loving and accepting people, who will stand by us and support us no matter what, a position which is very much reciprocated. The irony of it all is, we still bump into those girls and indeed their parents, and it's all I can do to stop myself bawling them out on sight, but that's not who I am and it's not the values I want to instil in La Princess either.

So instead, since they know who I am and I know they read my blog then I would like to say the following -

*clears throat*

Congratulations. Congratulations on teaching your daughters the very values I have gone out of my way to avoid as a Mother. Intolerance, bigotry, prejudice, and downright dogmatism.

Myself ? I'd rather continue to teach my daughter acceptance, assertion, self-worth and a belief that no matter who or what you come up against, let it never deter you.

LL xx

Holidays and Happy Hookers

Roite, I'm off ( well almost ). On Wednesday I am heading for the Isle of Man, returning to sunny Ayrshire to empty my suitcase unceremoniously into the laundry basket before refilling with pieces of cloth masquerading as clothes which would make The Mothers' eyes roll in the back of her head, then it's off to Turkey. All in all I won't be back in Glasgae until Tuesday the 25th, just in time to erect the electric fencing and trip wires for the little darlings at Halloween. ( Aside from the local "nice" children, we also get an influx of mini-skinheads who "egg yer gaff" if you don't give them cash, so preparation is key. ) I suppose you're wondering why on earth I have a picture of battling pandas to accompany this post ? No reason really, other than I thought it was an awesome picture and I don't see how they hope to avoid extinction if they keep battling each other with light sabres.

I came across this little beauty the other day, it's from the European Women's Lobby and features this video, which quite honestly blew my mind. "Prostitution is a form of violence and oppression", apparently. Yet again, the glaringly obvious has been over looked, that is - the community of sex workers who are happy in their work, although according to Julie Bindel the "Happy Hooker" is a myth. If this is to be a movement lobbying for women's rights, what about my rights as a woman to work perfectly legally as an escort ? What about my right to earn a living and support my family ? Oh wait, those rights don't sit well with their moral values, so they can't be of any consequence.

The Sex Worker Open University have penned a reply to that video and I've included a quote for you below which I think is rather brilliant.

"The European Women's Lobby has recently launched a campaign called Together For a Europe Free from Prostitution.

Their view of the sex industry is once more reducing women to victims, and prostitution to a system of violence against women. Once more, some women sitting in comfortable chairs in some official EU building are deciding what we should or should not do with our bodies. Once more, we are being silenced and victimised. Once more, our voices are being confiscated and we are not sex workers anymore but prostituted women.

That's enough.

We want to show them that sex work is work. This is how we make a living. This is how we pay our rent, our bills, our sex changes and our children's studies.
Those are our decisions. Our bodies. Our voices. Our lives.

We are from all genders and races.

Stop invisibilising trans women and men from the debate on sex work. Invisibilising us is a form of violence and discrimination.
Stop pretending that sex work is only male to female penetration. The services we offer are as varied as we are. Sex, companionship, BDSM, fetish.... Sex is not disgusting and the only thing that makes us sick is your insulting and degrading video.

To stop exploitation and abuse in the sex industry, we need to be heard. We want rights--human and labour rights, not more criminalisation. Criminalising our clients will only force us to work in more underground and less safe conditions.

You care about sex workers? You want us to stay alive? Listen to us now!
Stop victimising us. Stop criminalising us. Stop silencing us."

Fantastic, when I come back from holidays feeling less like I've been run over by a roads lorry from Glasgow City Council I will put pen to paper too.

In the meantime, farewell Steve Jobs. Like them or loathe them, Apple have been incredibly successful and Steve Jobs was a visionary - I love this quote from him;

"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped my dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."

LL xx

Bed Picnics and Belfast

Short, spiked fringes coaxed with gel ( fae Farmfoods ) and brushed forwards to within an inch of their lives, an over powering waft of Lynx Animal and his and hers shiny tracksuits - it can only mean one thing, I'm back in Glasgow, hurrah.

I had a splendid time in London. Firstly let me say it is always a pleasure to meet a gentleman who has found me via Rhia Charles, as I know he'll have a modicum of basic manners and decorum as a minimum. This particular gent arrived at my hotel room with a bed picnic, consisting of freshly squeezed orange juice, smoked salmon, grapes and chocolate biscuits too, it was bliss, ( or as we say in Glasgow - it was pure brilliant, so it was ).

I had the opportunity to have dinner with Ellie LLoyd, Susan and Burlesque Honey and we amused ourselves by people watching. To be more specific, we were watching one particular "lady" ( and I use the term very loosely indeed ) who was gyrating around a bemused business man with such ferocity that I thought she was going to do her neck an injury with all that orgasm-mimicking flicking that was going on. We were in stitches to begin with, especially when said business man spotted us and said -

"In her defence, she IS Norwegian."

Well that finished us off I'm afraid. In the end I found myself rather annoyed that her so called "friends" didn't get her in a headlock and take her to her room to sleep off the excesses because she really was in danger of doing something dreadfully daft. Ho hum.

Tomorrow I'm off to Belfast and true to form the volcanic ash has hit us once again, just on time. Great. Hopefully Spandex and I will formulate an alternative travel plan which succeeds, otherwise I shall miss my monthly tryst. I've grown completely impervious to the bemused looks of security men now, I usually just flash them a grin.

Well, I'm sure I'm not the first woman to walk through customs with a rampant rabbit, butt plug, cat o'nine tails, handcuffs, bondage rope, lube in several flavours, nipple clamps, an egg topper, various restraints, a blindfold and two strap ons. Anyway, if anyone compromises my identity on Twitter I can always sue, I don't see why not, every other fecker is.

LL xx

Pals and Prossies

Evening all, greetings from home.

I've had a wonderful couple of days but very hectic, to put it mildly. On Thursday night I went to meet two very dear friends for dinner and I think we finally toppled over at about 3.30am, gibbering quietly. It was fantastic, we laughed like demented donkeys and talked about everything, from the state of the new coalition to the crucial issue of salad cream versus mayonnaise.

Friday saw the first meeting of the GPS, ( Glasgow Prossie's Society, obviously ). Susan, Hannah, myself and a new lady called Faye met for lunch and it was fantastic. I have always been a firm believer in networking and getting to know other ladies because I believe that the industry can be a very lonely and isolating place if you don't have someone you can confide in, even if it's just to say - "Urgh, I was so looking forward to that appointment but Shrek opened the door". Some of our other members such as Caitlin and Casey were away, but we have decided to make Amanda a member by proxy. She's not Glasgow based obviously, but she behaves like The Barras finest on tour, so that's good enough for us. ( She's going to murder me for that ).

Back to the new lady, she came to me via the buddy scheme and has just launched her site, there's a link to it here ;

www.fayeglasgow.co.uk

Err, do you think someone on high is trying to tell me something ? That's the second lady I've buddied who is blonde, slim and gorgeous. Grrr. Anyway, Faye and Hannah are off to Heathrow on their first tour together this week, so all the very best ladies, 'ave it large and enjoy yourselves. :)

Finally, the appointment has come through; mammogram on the 13th followed by an appointment with a consultant on the 15th. I'm not scared, not at all. A big strapping lassie like myself ?

I'm petrified.

LL xx

Tribune and Tours

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