Read Online Sex and Other Changes by David Nobbs - Free Book Online Page A

seven minutes to ten. Oh God. He was running a slack ship.
    How he hated standing up to pee. He loathed urinals, the sodden yellowing fag ends, the ineffective blocks of disinfectant, the shared expulsion of urine. Sometimes people even spoke to him. One man had actually commented only the other day, ‘This is where the big nobs hang out.’ He’d had to laugh, it was said by a big nob, the Mayor of Throdnall.
    All this would change. Everything would change.
    As he sat in the surgery he grew very nervous. He was tempted to give the whole thing up, just go up to the desk and say, ‘I feel better. I’m going home. Sorry.’ He didn’t, of course. He’d spent nearly forty years in the wrong body. He wasn’t going to give up now. But, oh God, if every stage was going to be as daunting as this …
    Doctor Rodgerson was running late, because he was thorough. Nick was surrounded by coughs and sneezes. By the time he left he’d probably have double pneumonia.
    He tried to concentrate on the magazines. ‘Give the marrow a chance,’ he read, and ‘The Walsall nobody knows’ and ‘ “Why don’t we understand apostrophe’s any more?” asks Bethany Sizewell.’ No use. Even those gems didn’t interest him. Sorry, Bethany.
    A revolting child was crying. An ugly girl was coughing. He hated surgeries. He started on a bridge problem and as he did so he thought, Oh God, I’ll have to transfer to the ladies’ team. He began to get into the problem. He thought it must be a question of ruffing three times in the long trump hand. Suddenly he didn’t want his name to be called just yet.
    â€˜Nicholas Divot.’
    He didn’t like hearing his name. He found it faintly ridiculous. He almost said, ‘Yes. Sorry.’ He came from a longline of Yorkshire Divots, which made him sound like mass carelessness on a northern golf course.
    His heart was hammering as he walked towards Doctor Rodgerson’s surgery. This was the beginning.
    â€˜Good morning, Nick.’
    â€˜Morning, doctor.’
    â€˜What can I do for you?’
    â€˜Er … I want to change sex. I want to become a woman. I want “the operation”.’
    â€˜But …’
    Doctor Rodgerson stopped. He didn’t need to say any more. Nick could have finished several sentences for him. But this is Throdnall. But you’re manager of the Cornucopia Hotel. But I’ve sat opposite you at the Collinsons’ dinner table.
    â€˜You’re serious about this, I presume,’ he said. ‘You’ve thought it through.’
    â€˜Oh yes. I’ve thought it through.’
    â€˜Well you’re very brave, Nick,’ he said. ‘Very brave.’ He sounded quite casual. He could almost have been discussing wine as he said, ‘I haven’t had a case of this before.’ He was thumbing through a book. ‘I … yes, here we are. Yes, this is a bit beyond my scope, Nick. What I think I have to do now is refer you to a gender identity clinic.’
    He asked a few questions and then he stood up and held out his hand.
    â€˜Good luck, Nick,’ he said. ‘It’s going to be a long haul, I suspect.’
    They shook hands. Was it Nick’s imagination, or did Doctor Rodgerson almost flinch at the touch of his skin? His expression was disturbingly brave. Was it the tiniest harbinger of what he might have to face?
    He had to leave early for his appointment at the gender identity clinic. Alison made him a cooked breakfast. He managed most ofit, though he drew the line at the black pudding. Such a masculine thing.
    She drove him to the station. They felt that he might not be fit to drive, his concentration might lapse, and, besides, he’d always been wimpish about car parks. Alison found spaces. He didn’t.
    He’d got stuff from the library, and he re-read this on the train. He wanted to give a good account of himself.
    He