I had a happy and completely normal childhood as Joseph. Did all the usual boyish things and was good academically. Went on to university and got a first in Geophysics. This lead to a good job with a large international oil company. I had a string of girl friends and slept around a bit but - fortunately - never got married.

When I was 32, I started to worry that I may have contracted a venereal disease but was too embarrassed to go to my doctor and hoped the symptoms would just go away. Big mistake!

Eventually, after it had stopped me dating and I had lost a very good girl friend, I summoned up courage to see him and he immediately arranged for a visit to a consultant urologist.

Tests were made and samples analysed and two weeks later the consultant called me back for another visit. My fears about VD palled into insignificance when he told me I had cancer and that an operation was needed immediately. He explained that the cancer had already spread from my penis to my scrotum and he could not yet say whether it had reached further. He proposed to amputate all my male organs. He would not be able to create any sort of artificial penis and would relocate the urethra to a point just ahead of my anus. He would not guarantee bladder control.

It went without saying that I would be totally impotent and would need continuing medication to maintain hormone balance. I would have to urinate sitting down. However, he thought that I would be able to lead a relatively normal life and return to work in a few weeks.

I had not really taken in all the implications when I agreed to the operation the next day, signed the usual consent forms, made the necessary financial arrangements and presented myself at his private clinic. I took a last look at my manhood while the anaesthetic was being administered and wondered what the future held as a eunuch.

When I came to, I was told the operation had been successful but was not allowed to inspect the "damage" for a few days. There were no signs that the cancer had spread further, but I would need to be monitored closely for several years. Recovery was quite quick. A catheter provided temporary plumbing but this was removed after a couple of week and to my relief I was able to control my urine. My crotch was totally bare save for a single neat scar which healed well. In fact, I became rather proud of it!

Four weeks later I was back at work and apparently normal except that I could no longer use the urinals in the gents loos. But generally, I was fit and healthy. Over the next two years there was no sign of recurrence of cancer.

I deliberately avoided female company as I dreaded the possibility of having to explain my predicament. However, I did date a girl I had known before and trusted. She knew about the operation and was understanding. She even suggested that I use a dildo to have sex with her. This proved a strange thing emotionally and, as far as I was concerned, was not successful.

Eventually, I volunteered for a 12 months contract doing research and oil exploration in Antarctica. At the last moment, the departure date was brought forward and final preparations were rushed. It was only after arrival in the deep South that I discovered that all my backup medication had been left behind. There is not exactly a regular parcel delivery to that part of the world, particularly during the Antarctic winter! The base had an excellent medical centre and could cope with most emergencies but my condition was not one of them!

There was nothing I could do about. It's absence was not in any way life threatening. I was totally absorbed in my work so I just carried on without it and it was only towards the end of the 12 months that I began to notice changes occurring. I was definitely putting on weight around my hips. My hair was getting softer and I was growing boobs. I was able to conceal things from my colleagues, but as soon as I got home, I went to see the consultant.

His opinion was that I had allowed things to go too far to be reversed He could partially arrest matters but that I must consider the social implications of appearing noticeably feminised. In the end, his medication merely delayed the development of feminine characteristics by a few months and had unforeseen side effects, so I took a conscious decision to let nature take its own course. I had been wearing cotton panties since the operation (Y fronts were no longer needed!) and now found I also needed to wear a bra.

To cut a rather long and painful story short, after a couple more years my situation became an embarrassment at work and I gave up my job and moved to a remote district where I felt I could best handle the situation. I was fortunate in being able to concentrate on writing technical books and so earn enough to cover my needs.

I had a very few lifelong friends in whom I could confide. One of these was a lady who was able to help me experiment with living as a female. She helped me buy a small wardrobe of clothes and taught me about make up and hairstyling - and many other everyday things. I was still in my forties and learned a bit about fashion. I think I actually looked quite attractive when dressed up but usually wore casual clothes, T shirt or sweater and long skirt, slacks or jeans. I was amazed how much more feminine just an odd accessory such as a simple necklace made it look.

But whichever role I adopted there were problems, so I became increasingly reclusive and tried to be consistent in using the gender most suited to the people I would meet. It doesn't always work and there are inevitably difficult moments. These days, I tend to dress in comfortable female clothes most of the time, especially with the locals who seem more sympathetic to an elderly lady and more ready to chat. But I am male for the occasional visits to my publisher or meeting former colleagues.

In the end, however, I have managed to cope for over 30 years - even though I am regarded by most as a bit of an oddity.