Hello 
I'm Siobhan Curran/Kisa Naumova, and this is my weblog. I tend to write about stuff like crossdressing, Macs, code, cats, wine and Second Life, but in general it's just an ongoing conversation about all sorts of stuff. If you'd like to know a little bit more about what this all is, I recommend starting on this page which has a little bit of info on who I am, and what I'm trying to do — or you could dive into my five years worth of archives if you like.
Otherwise, feel free to close this box and explore...
Wednesday, 14th February, 2007
€1M
Random Hitching Story (No. 49)
With a good dollop of Deprincessing thrown in.
I used to hitch a lot — I might have even told a few of the stories that happened during my more hitching celebres moments in the past. But I've been noticing a lot recently that people just don't seem to hitch.
Maybe it's a trust thing. Maybe it's some strange knock-on effect of a more selfish' and 'self-absorbed' attitude these days — a kind of "Ack, someone else will deal wth that" sort of thing going on.
But still, I must confess, that I'm usually loathe to pick up hitchers myself — especially when it's after a crappy day at work, and I'm tired, and (quite frankly) still in a foul stinking mood and wanting a night on my own, devoid of blogs and other people.
(Yes, I do know that the comment box isn't showing)
So, basically, the picture I'm trying to paint here is one of a grumpy nearly-35 transvestite on her way home to spend two more sleeps in utter self-pity — preferably without the company of others. Preferably in some kind of 'hermitage', so to speak.
And the kind of transvestite who would not have a second thought when passing a hitcher just outside of Gargrave at eight o'clock on a shitty Wednesday.
Except.
Well.
I just couldn't. Something made me stop — maybe it was the slight glimpse of the "A65" sign he had, maybe there was a slight glimmer of unselfishness that shone through for just a second. Whatever.
I found myself doing a u-turn and retracing that once-familiar opening phrase "Where're you headed?".
I shouldn't really go into it — not because of any modesty, just because it's a bit boring. I mean essentially I'm just showing a bit of hospitality that had it happened to me a decade or so ago, I'd have written a whopping great blog post about it at some point.
But the poor guy...
He's lost his wallet somewhere along the Pennine Way yesterday, and was trying to get to The Scilly Isles. FROM SKIPTON — where he'd started walking earlier today.
...
He's upstairs having a bath right now. I just fed him the first thing he's had for two days.
I'm glad I stopped 
Put's things in — well — perspective, you know?
...
The Deprincessing BTW — "So, this is my house, come on in — I'll just tidy up the (OMG MY SCHOOL UNIFORM IS LYING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE LIVING ROOM!) mess"
