The following day we picked up Mum and Dad at 9.30 am. I sat in the back with Mum, while Dad sat next to John. We drove into Oxford, around the city areas and surrounding countryside. We could see why Oxford is often called the 'city of dreaming spires' — a term coined by the poet Matthew Arnold. The university colleges cover a large portion of the centre of the city, and their architecture is wonderful. John and I were entranced by it all.

To thank Mum and Dad for their efforts as tourist guides, we took them into a really nice restaurant for lunch, and when Dad started to bring out his wallet, John said this one was 'our shout', and then of course we had to explain what that meant.

More wonderful than anything we had seen was the way we were all getting on now. All that awkwardness of the previous afternoon had gone, and we were a family. We went back to my parents' house for tea and discussed our plans with them. We intended to spend a bit of time touring around and seeing some parts of the country, but we also wanted to spend more time with them, so it was agreed we would spend one more day in Oxford with them, and then do a quick tour of Britain before returning to Oxford once more.

Mum said. “When you return, would you like to stay in our spare bedroom?”

I took this as being final proof of their acceptance, and we both agreed instantly and thanked them for their kindness.

John said “We want to spend some days in London before we fly out. Why don't you come down with us, then we can spend more time together?” So it was agreed.

We were blessed with fine weather the next day when we all took a ninety minute guided walking tour of the centre of Oxford. We learned that so many Prime Ministers, Nobel Prize Winners and other famous people had studied there. Lewis Carroll, J.R.R. Tolkien, and C.S. Lewis were just a few of the famous names. Best of all, our guide was one of the students, making some extra money, and we were able to enter the quadrangle of a couple of the colleges. Surprisingly Mum and Dad had not done this tour, or perhaps it wasn't so surprising. We often tend to think we can go to local places of interest any time, and hence don't go at all! There's a Northern England saying “There's nowt so funny as folk”, and it's so true!

The following morning we packed our cases and leaving Oxford headed north. We quickly found that whereas the countryside was wonderful, the same couldn't be said for the cities which were crowded with traffic and pedestrians, and with their narrow winding streets, it was so easy to get lost. Both John and I had a great interest in historic buildings, so bypassing the larger towns, we headed up to York, and visited its wonderful Minster and ancient city walls.

John was almost as keen on golf as cricket, so after a brief visit to Edinburgh with its truly amazing castle, we crossed the Firth of Forth and head towards the game's spiritual home — St Andrews. We had timed our arrival for Sunday, since play is not allowed on the Old Course, but it is open for visitors to wander its fabled fairways and greens. I still have a picture of John standing on the old stone bridge that crosses the Swilcan burn. So many famous Open champions have stood there, holding the Old Claret Jug aloft. In another photo John is standing in front of the fearsome Road Hole bunker. John promised himself that one day he would return and play the Old Course.

Our tour was of the sort that a coach company would call 'A Taste of Britain', but it was enough to whet our appetites to return and spend more time. We reluctantly decided against visiting the Highlands, and instead headed south-west back into England and the Lake District which was to become one of our favourite areas. The combination of lakes and mountains is magical, and we could easily have stayed there a month. We found ourselves drawn to an ancient stone circle called Castlerigg, near Keswick. Not as dramatic in construction as the famous Stonehenge, it more than makes up for it in location, sited on a low hill surrounded by mountains with magical names like Skiddaw, Blencathra, and Helvellyn. John and I stood there hand in hand, the soft summer breeze rustling my skirt, and I felt something, a connection with its ancient builders. Is it foolish to think they might have been my ancestors speaking to me down the ages? What can I say? All I know I felt something. I have only ever felt that way about two places — Castlerigg and MacKenzie Station. Two places. worlds apart in location and age, but for me my heart is there.

Further south we headed, for the days seemed to be flying by. One person I had to see of course was my cousin Marie. She had married about nine months previously, and by happy chance had moved to the ancient Roman city of Bath, which would have been a place to visit even if Marie was not there. When I called her on the telephone to confirm the day of our arrival, she said how much she was looking forward to seeing us and added mysteriously “I've got news for you.”

We arrived in Bath in the late afternoon and after checking into our hotel, made our way to the apartment Marie and her husband Michael were living in while they looked for an affordable house. We had been invited to an evening meal with them, so we quickly showered and changed. It was a warm evening, so I wore a pretty summer dress in palest yellow, with a floral pattern that I had bought in Oxford. John settled for slacks and an open-neck shirt.

When Marie opened the door, she frankly stared at me.

“Lesley, you look wonderful!” she gasped, and I blushed of course but felt so pleased. We hugged, and then I introduced her to John, and I could see she was impressed with his rugged good looks.

“Come in and sit yourself down,” she said, “I'm in the middle of cooking tea.”

Her husband Michael arrived home from work a few minutes later, and he and John hit it off immediately. Michael was another amateur cricketer, so here was an instant topic of conversation. Marie and I were able to leave them to it, while I went to help her in the kitchen and have a chat.

“Lesley, the pictures you sent don't do you justice,” she said “I expected you to look good, but not this good. You are totally gorgeous!”

“Marie!” I laughingly protested “I swear you are only saying these things to make me blush, and you are succeeding.”

Marie laughed. “Do you remember those times we used to play 'dress-ups'? I thought then that you should have been born a girl, and now I see that you really were a girl all the time.”

“What I remember was how you caught me wearing some of your clothes and didn't dob me in to your parents. I will always be grateful to you for that, and eternally grateful for how you paved the way for me by explaining the change in my life to my parents.”

“Speaking of which — how did it go with them?” she asked. I explained about the first visit and how badly it was going until John and Dad connected over cricket.

“Now they seem well on the way to total acceptance that I am their daughter, and I'm so glad because nothing will sway me from the path I'm on. But I'm talking all about me. What's the news that you have?”

“I'm pregnant,” she said simply.

“Oh Marie, that's wonderful news!” and I gave her a big hug. “When is the baby due?”

“About six months.” she replied, “I'm not starting to show yet, but Michael wants me to stop work soon, and I'm rather in favour of that since I've had the most terrible morning sickness.”

“Well, I will have something in common with your baby,” I said “Because around that time I will be 'reborn' in a way myself, after I have my surgery.”

“Oh Lesley, you are so brave.”

“I don't know about that Marie, “I said “I've never had surgery, not even my appendix out, and frankly the thought of it really scares me. However, it's something I have to do, for my sake and for John's.”

“It seems to be happening so quickly.” she said.

“Not really. It will be over two years since I started on hormones. Believe me, all the medical staff I've seen are very careful not to rush things. They want to be absolutely sure I am making the right choice.”

Our meal was ready to be served, and I helped Marie, by carrying the heavier dishes.

“Everyone's treating me like I'm made of cut glass,” Marie giggled “I can't say I really object to it.”

For a moment I had a feeling of sadness. Medical science might be able to make my body look very like that of a genetic woman, but the one thing it couldn't do was give me the internal organs to have a baby. If anything, I felt sadder for John than me. He had not had a child with his first wife, and it was a shame that he didn't have an heir or heiress to leave the station to, although he did have some distant relatives. However, he knew that when we got together, so I had to believe that he accepted it.

We had a wonderful convivial meal. Marie hadn't told Michael about my background, saying she preferred to tell him privately later.

“If I tell him now, he won't be able to stop himself staring at you, searching for any tell-tale sign of your previous life,” she said. “It's a natural human reaction I suppose.”

The next morning, Marie accompanied us on a brief tour of Bath, which of course included a visit to the Roman baths themselves, with the famous underground springs which have been delivering hot water for thousands of years. We also saw some of the magnificent architecture of the Georgian period, including the Circus and Royal Crescent. Finally, we had lunch together, and bade each other farewell, with promises to keep in touch more regularly, and on Marie's part, to let us know how things went with her baby.

In due course she was to be delivered of a fine nine-pound baby boy who was named Michael John Morton, We were delighted when we received some pictures of him, and sent over a beautiful christening mug, saying we looked forward to seeing them all on our next visit to England.

To be continued