Julie Anne from the petticoated.com typing pool has submitted this beautiful  story of being petticoated and trained by her dear wife. I will certainly be making sure that the girls do not drink too freely at this year's works outing, although I was shocked to discover later that one of the girls - who has a reputation for the utmost primness and respectability - had a tiny hip flask of brandy concealed in her sheer black stocking top at last year's function. Possibly she had been watching that old Humphrey Bogart picture, 'The Roaring Twenties'. Anyway, let us turn to Julie Anne's superb story.

December, the time for Christmas parties and formal occasions. As with most large companies, the company I work for puts on a formal dinner and dance to which all employees and their partners are invited.

As usual I obtained tickets for my wife and myself and looked forward to the great occasion that was to be held in a local hotel on a Friday evening. On arriving home I was greeted by my wife who was already well on the way to getting ready, she asked me to shower straight away so that the bathroom would be free for her to complete her preparations. I went into the bedroom and was shocked to see a formal highland dress consisting of kilt in the tartan of the MacDonald Clan, Prince Charlie jacket, sporran and all the other accessories lying on the bed. I shouted to my wife that I hoped she didn’t expect me to wear this.  She replied of course she expected me to wear it, it had cost a lot of money to hire it and it would be such a waste if I refused. I put on a front that I was most put out, but underneath I was thrilled at my wife’s surprise.She explained that she had enjoyed seeing all the other men in kilts the previous year and thought that I would only be too pleased to be dressed as the others.

I ‘reluctantly’ agreed and went into the bathroom to prepare, my mind buzzing with the excitement of ‘having’ to wear a kilt. When getting ready I picked up the kilt and tried it around my waist – horrors, it was at least two inches too small! I shouted to my wife that I couldn’t possibly wear the kilt, as it was too small. She answered 'Well Julie Anne you will just have to go out to your car and bring in that waist clincher corset that you keep hidden in the boot, with all your other frilly underwear'. I was struck speechless and totally confused and started to blurt out something like 'I don’t know what on earth you are talking about'.

My wife came out from the bathroom delighted at my totally confused and embarrassed state. I started to ask  'Who is Julie Anne?' 'Well don’t you recognise your own name – I know all about the letters you have written to 'Petticoat Discipline Monthly' and all the other little secrets that you have been withholding from me. For this last three months you think I have been taking cooking lessons at the local college, but actually I have been taking computer studies. While you were away on business, I carried out a search of all your documents and floppy disks and have found all your letters to Miss MacDonald. I know all about your antics in the typing pool too my dear Julie Anne, and where you keep all your female things, and I know you have a corset after you wrote to Marcia and told her all about your trip to the Shetland Islands. I would have loved to have seen your face as you passed through the security check at the airport'.

'Now, out you go to your car and bring in your bag, I want to see everything you have'. I felt totally humiliated, there was no doubt about it, my wife knew everything, and there was nothing I could do but comply with her wishes. As I went out to the car I thought to myself, it could be worse - after all I had wanted to tell my wife all about my female side but had always felt too embarrassed. I took the bag from the car boot, quite forgetting the reason why I had been sent for it, for it was obvious that I was about to be tightly corseted in order that the kilt would fit.

Inside, my wife made me lay all my things on the bed. 'My goodness', she gasped,  'some of your matching lacy panties, suspenders and bras are a lot prettier than I have. Most of it needs a good ironing but that can wait, we can organise that tomorrow. Now, where is the corset, ah yes I’m sure we will be able to pull your waist in with this and your skirt - I mean your kilt - will fit perfectly. Now come here'. I stood in front of my wife as she placed the corset around my waist and hooked the busk fastening together. 'Turn around please Julie. May I call you Julie? Julie Anne sounds so formal'. I mumbled an acknowledgment that she may.

Lucia started pulling in the laces, starting at the top and working down gradually and relentlessly. At the centre she left long loops in the laces and then started from the bottom. When she had finished the bottom half, she started again from the top. At last I pleaded with her to stop, not only did it feel extremely restrictive, causing me to take shallow breaths, but I was worried I would not be able to breathe when sitting. 'Nonsense' she said, 'Now breathe in, I want to get it nice and tight to stop you eating and drinking too much and making a pig of yourself like you did last year'.  Things now began to drop into place, last year I had overindulged and had become quite drunk and loud mouthed. It was obvious Lucia had planned this revenge carefully, deliberately ordering a kilt with a small waist size.

When she had finished she passed the loops of the laces around my waist and knotted them together securely behind my back. It was obvious to me I couldn’t get out of my corset without help. 'There' she said, 'your waist has been reduced by at least four inches and judging by the bulge in your panties you are enjoying every minute of this. We can’t have that unsightly bulge, it will push out your kilt and cause your sporran to hang incorrectly, put on this nice tight panty girdle and make sure you tuck your parts back between your legs. That way, when you are dancing with me you will be able to keep your sporran properly in front and not pushed around to the side like so many men do'. I did as she requested but it was quite difficult because ‘my parts’ didn’t want to cooperate. However, once the panty girdle was pulled up tight they couldn’t do anything about it.

'That’s better, now I think these beautiful directoire knickers will complete your underwear nicely' The bloomers were in pink satin, almost knee length with very tight elastic around the legs and with several layers of lace at the cuffs. 'Please Lucia, don’t make me wear them, they extend almost to the hem of my kilt and someone may see the lacy frills'.

'Well dear Julie Anne, you will just have to be careful. I saw that press clipping that you sent to 'Petticoat Discipline Monthly' about men wearing kilts with nothing beneath. These will make sure you keep yourself prim and proper and steer clear of any curious females. If you don’t hurry up and get them on you will be wearing this very full petticoat of yours as well. I’m sure the hem will hang below the hem of your kilt'. I pulled on the knickers reluctantly, pulling the elasticated legs as high as they would go without feeling as though I had cut off the circulation to my feet.

'Now that’s perfect that should limit your drinking, as you will have to be very careful to get your underwear in place when you go to the toilet. Now put on your dress shirt and kilt, and let me see how you look'. I hated the dress shirt, it had all frilly lace down the front and Lucy knew I disliked that style. The kilt was very loose around my waist now, it is a good job that they can be adjusted to fit, to prevent them slipping down. Lucia was delighted with the result and helped by tying my velvet bow tie. When it came to tying the laces on my brogues, I couldn’t reach due to the restriction of the corset. I asked Lucia to help but she insisted that I crouch down like a girl to tie the laces. I managed, but was totally breathless by the time I had finished.

When we were both ready, Lucy set up the camera on a tripod, and set the camera timer to take photographs of us standing together. Her outfit was a trouser suit, and although she looked very smart in it, I was feeling very vulnerable as the one who was wearing the corset and skirt.

Off we went to the party, all my colleagues from work congratulated me on how smart I looked and remarked that I looked slimmer than normal. It was very difficult sitting at the meal table, I had to sit very erect and could only peck at my meal and take small sips of the wine. I was envious of the other men who were knocking back the pints. They were also surprised that I was more restrained than usual, as I had quite a reputation for drinking. I had several dances with Lucia, but avoided dancing with other women in case they put their arm around me and felt my corset. Each time I returned to the table I checked that my bloomer legs hadn’t slipped down to reveal the lacy ruffles.

When we returned home Lucia congratulated me on how restrained I had been, and didn’t I feel a lot better coming home sober and upright rather than staggering and falling all over the place? In the bedroom I got undressed but couldn’t remove the corset. I asked Lucia to help. 'You have to earn your release', she said, 'Come here and help me prepare for bed'. As I helped her to undress we began with some light petting which led on to greater things and the best session of love we had enjoyed in years. As we lay exhausted on the bed, Lucia began to loosen off my corset, but she only let my waist out about two inches and then tied the laces again insisting that I spend the night in it.

In the morning, Lucia asked me if I had 'slept tight', and giving a little giggle, tickled me under the chin. Eventually she released me from the corset and I went to the bathroom to shower. Afterwards I put on my tracksuit trousers and tee shirt and prepared the breakfast. Over breakfast Lucia asked what I had felt about the night before, and didn’t I feel grateful to her for preventing any miserable hangover? I agreed, and admitted that I had enjoyed my humiliation and risk of exposure. Lucia said that she had noticed a definite change in my disposition after I had been corseted, I had become much more compliant and controllable and things were likely to be different from now on. She went on to explain that she knew I liked wearing grown up underwear and outerwear but didn’t care for young girl clothes, and therefore this kind of apparel would be better to improve my discipline, and I would have to earn the right to wear adult clothes. I was starting to get worried, I was hoping Lucia would tell me that I have to do the housework in a pretty maid's outfit but things were not turning out that way. 'From now on, you are going back to school to learn all those things that your mother let you get away with when you were small. You are going to learn how to cook, iron and clean the house and you are also going to learn Spanish so that I can instruct you in my natural tongue – I’m fed up with you laughing at mistakes I make in English. Is that understood? 'Si Senora' 'Si Donna Lucia' she snapped back. 'Si Donna Lucia' I humbly replied.

'Today, we are going shopping to get your new wardrobe, but first of all you must tidy up and wash all your pretty things. Gather up all your white underwear and put them in the washing machine'. I did as I was told and set the machine for a standard wash – I knew how to do this as I had had to launder my underwear when Lucia was out of the house. 'When that is finished you can hang it out to dry and load in the coloured items'. This had me worried because the washing lines were in a communal area of our block of flats and all the nosey neighbours would see me hanging out only women’s clothes. Still, the chore had to be done, I was very nervous and tried to get the hanging done as quickly as possible. Unfortunately I dropped some of the items in my haste and I had to bring them in for re-washing by hand.

After all the clothes had been hung out, Lucia shouted  'Julie venga'. I went into the bedroom. 'Take all this male underwear out of your drawer, put it in your bag, lock the bag and take it out and place it in the boot of my car, this includes the underwear you are wearing'. I did as I was told and handed the keys to the bag and her car back to Lucia. 'Bueno, gracias. Now get ready for shopping I have decided that as the kilt does not have to go back to the shop until Monday you had better wear it for shopping, we can’t afford to waste money by not making full use of the hire period. 'But Donna Lucia this will mean I have to wear my corset, and the Prince Charlie jacket is for evening wear'. ' Do you have a problem with wearing your corset? You have only been too willing to squeeze into it on other occasions according to your letters. You can wear one of your tweed sports jackets, I will pick one out to go with the MacDonald Tartan'. 'What about underwear?' Lucia thought for a moment then went to her drawer and took out a pair of frilly pink panties. 'You may wear these until yours are dry'. 'Thank you Donna Lucia'

I put on the panties and Lucia helped me into my corset. She only pulled my waist in by two inches, just enough to get the kilt to fit properly. Off we went to the shops with me feeling very self-conscious and vulnerable. Everybody in the world seemed to look at me as we walked along the pavement. I was very worried about the wind, and was praying that my kilt wouldn’t blow up to reveal my silky panties. It certainly didn’t feel like it would, as it was a lot heavier than any skirt or dress I had ever worn, but there was still a risk.

As we walked, Lucia explained that she had noticed me glancing at the schoolgirls whenever we passed the local girls' school. Therefore, as it was obvious I was envious of their red tartan skirt uniform, I was to receive something as close as possible to it. We went to the store that held the uniform for that school in stock and Lucia asked an assistant if they stocked skirts in size 18. 'Our Julie Anne is going to attend next term but she is larger than the average pupil, in fact she is playing prop forward for a girls' rugby team today', she explained laughingly. The assistant was very helpful and said they did, and explained that children were getting much larger nowadays. They also stocked blouses up to size 20 but they did not keep regulation school knickers in larger sizes, as it was unusual for older girls to wear them. 'Do you stock school shoes in size 8?' Lucia asked. 'I’m afraid we don’t Madam, but we do stock a lace-up shoe in size 8 that is very similar in design'. 'Wonderful', said Lucia, 'We’ll take a pair please'. Lucia instructed me to get out my credit card and pay for two skirts, six blouses, the shoes, two school ties and six pairs of green opaque tights. The shop assistant explained that if any item didn’t fit correctly then it might be exchanged. Outside the shop, Lucia said she was very pleased with the purchases, but I still needed more underwear.

We went to another large department store and headed for the lingerie department. I felt very uncomfortable in here, because I am always excited by all the unmentionables on display, but always have to put on an air that I was not interested, and merely accompanying my wife. Lucia checked the panty girdles and commented that I did not have enough of my own to allow for laundering. Three pairs in white with a high waist, a long leg, and with a rigid front panel were selected. Next we checked the bras and Lucia picked out three long line bras, again in white. Finally she picked out some full slips that looked absolutely wonderful, with plenty of lace trimming. She held one up against me to check the length before finally deciding. I felt mortified and my face was burning red, but fortunately I didn’t think anyone noticed.

'Now', said Lucia, 'you run along to the check out and pay for these items I have to go and spend a penny'. 'Please Donna Lucia, can’t I wait for you here?' 'Don’t be so silly, now run along and I’ll catch you up'. With that she turned and headed off. I was struck rigid with fear, but knew I would have to do as she instructed. I went to the nearest check out and kept the shopping basket down low so that people wouldn’t notice. However, as I was wearing a kilt all the women were giving me glances, and as they were checking me out they could see all the lingerie in my basket. If I had been in a darkened room people would have been able to see by the glow of my cheeks.

At the check out the assistant held up each slip individually to check there were no defects, as I looked away and tried to shrink into the background. She folded the slips and then checked the bras and panty girdles through and packed all the items in a bag. She took my credit card to complete the transaction. Before swiping the card the assistant explained that if any of the items didn’t fit correctly they could be returned. In the case of the panty girdles, only boxes that had been unopened could be returned unless there was a manufacturing fault. I thanked the assistant but explained the items were for my wife. Without thinking the assistant blurted out 'Oh but I thought they were for you as I saw your wife holding the slips against you to check the size'. 'Yes you are quite correct', I heard Lucia say behind my back. 'My little Julie Anne is going back to school, and this is her new underwear'. The assistant grinned and said 'I’m sure she will look very pretty in them'. The other shoppers in the queue were not as restrained, and laughed out loud and began to make comments about how nice I would look with this pretty underwear beneath my kilt. I was totally humiliated, and I kept my head down and signed the receipt as quickly as possible. Lucia went on to explain that I was only wearing the kilt until we returned home, then I would be changing into my St Albyn’s uniform which we had just purchased from Munro’s. 'Now Julie Anne thank the assistant for her help'. 'Thank you Ma’am I mumbled', and some of the women in the queue mockingly applauded. I followed Lucia out of the store. Outside I pleaded with her to let us return home. 'Very well' she said, 'we’ve completed most of the purchases and you have quite a few chores to complete when we get back'.

At home, I was asked to prepare lunch while Lucia laid out the new purchases on the bed. After lunch Lucia asked me to wash up and put away the dishes. Just as I closed the last of the cupboard doors Lucia called out 'Julie venga'. I washed and dried my hands and went into the bedroom. 'Si Donna Lucia?' 'I want you to try on your new things to make sure they fit.  Take off your kilt and try on one of these skirts'. I did as I was told, the skirt felt really light after the heavy weight of the kilt. The hem was positioned just above my knee similar to the kilt, but it was very loose about my waist. 'Don’t worry about that silly, you still have your waist pulled in by two inches, you won’t be wearing your corset all the time, although I must admit that while you are wearing it you are very meek and compliant. I think I’ll let it out a little to let your skirt fit nicely, but leave it tightly enough to remind you of your position'. 'Si Donna Lucia', I whispered, and took off my skirt and turned around so that she could adjust my corset.

It was a relief with the corset loosened. Lucia asked me to take off my shirt and try a bra and a slip. Both fitted perfectly, which was a relief, as I didn’t want a trip back to the store to ask for a refund. 'Now try on a panty girdle and a pair of the regulation school tights, we need to hide those masculine bits that may affect the hang of your skirt'  Again the girdle fitted very snugly and flattened off my front so I looked just like a girl. 'Now the blouse, but before you button it up let me pad out your bra  cups a little with a couple of bundles of my silky panties'. Finally, I replaced my skirt, put on my new shoes, and tied my school tie. 'How do the shoes fit?' asked Lucia. 'They are a little tight Donna Lucia, I don’t think I could wear them with normal socks'. 'Well that’s OK you will only be wearing them with tights'.  Lucia stood back to survey my transformed self. 'Umm, your skirt doesn’t seem to hang very well. I think it is because your hips are too narrow. You can put on your very beautiful petticoat, the one with the layers of net, which will give you a better little girl profile. I took off my skirt and Lucia handed me the petticoat and I stepped in carefully and pulled it up to my waist. I slipped the skirt over my head, smoothed it out and refastened it around my waist. The petticoat really made the skirt stand out, Lucia was delighted with the effect and taught me how to do a curtsey and how to handle my skirts properly when I sat. She also ordered me to hold my hands behind my back whenever I answered one of her orders, as a mark of respect. Of course I ‘learned’ quickly as I had had plenty of private practice.

'Good, and so to your domestic training. Put on this pinny of mine to protect your nice new clothes. The pinny covered my front and came to just above the knee. There was a ruffled detail around the edge and Lucia tied the straps in a large bow behind my back.  'Pack up your highland dress and put it in your wardrobe safely so that it doesn’t get soiled, and I will return it to the shop on Monday. When you have finished that, go out and pick in the washing'. 'But Donna Lucia I can’t go out dressed like this, the neighbours will laugh at me'. 'For such a person holding a high position in a prestigious company you don’t have much common sense,' said Lucia, ' All you have to do is put on your anorak and people will think that you are still wearing the kilt that you had on this morning, you’ll just have to be careful that the wind doesn’t catch your skirt and give everyone a good view of your beautiful petticoat'. 'But what about my green tights and the pinny?' 'Julie, I’m going to loose patience with you in a minute now go out and pick in the washing this minute'.

This was getting beyond reason, I had been totally humiliated in front of strangers in the town and now there was a chance I was to be humiliated in front of people I knew on the same day. I didn’t want to displease my wife in any way, but I had to make a stand somewhere or I wouldn’t be able to relax in my own house.

'Please Donna Lucia (deep curtsey) may I discuss my domestic training with you?' Lucia put down her magazine, 'What do you need to discuss my dear, and don’t fiddle with the hem of your pinny, you’ll crease the material and leave grubby marks'. I stood in front of Lucia with my hands held in front and eyes downcast.  'Please Donna Lucia, I was totally humiliated at the shops today and I am afraid the neighbours will laugh at me if I go outside, I think I have suffered enough and promise to be a good girl'. 'I’m sorry Julie Anne, but all the time we have been married you have never helped me with the housework. When we are out from the house, driving or hill walking, I always do exactly as you say because I know you have a better sense of direction than me, and have more experience in the hills. But in the house, I am the boss, and you must learn to obey my instructions. I have read all Miss MacDonald’s comments in 'Petticoat Discipline Monthly' and thoroughly agree with her. You cannot be allowed to get away with anything I request and you should know that all this is being done for your own good. Now go out and pick in the washing or I will write and tell Miss MacDonald about your refusal to help and that may well jeopardise your part time job in the petticoated.com typing pool. I’m sure your friend Marcia would jump at the chance to serve her mistress in this way'.

I was resigned to my fate: I love my part time typing work for petticoated.com and I didn’t want to jeopardise that, and it’s true, Marcia is always looking for ways to serve her mistress, and I didn’t want to disappoint her as she has been a real friend. I fetched my anorak from the hall and put it on. It did cover most of my uniform, but it wasn’t heavy enough to compress my petticoat, and my skirt still stuck out. I opened the door with heart racing, dashed outside to the washing lines and picked in my clothes as quickly as possible. I was conscious that every time I reached up for a peg my petticoat was showing beneath the hem of my skirt. When I got back to the front door I realised I had forgotten to pick up my key. I desparately rang the bell. Lucia must have realised what I had done, and was deliberately slow to get up to let me in.  The door opened, and it was Miss Gribble from the flat upstairs. 'Hello', she said, 'Oh I like your kilt it’s so nice to see men wearing kilts as everyday wear and not just for formal occasions. It’s a good idea to wear a pinny to protect it - kilts are terribly expensive nowadays'. Then she added, 'I hope you are wearing something beneath'. If only she knew!! Lucia let me in to our flat with a big smile on her face and asked me what Miss Gribble had said.

'Now' said Lucia, 'You can set up the ironing table to iron all your things, I want to see everything nicely pressed'. 'Please Donna Lucia can you show me how to iron, as I have never done it before'. 'Certainly dear' She picked up a pair of knickers and quickly ironed and folded them, and put them to one side. Next she showed me how to do a bra followed by a slip. 'Now you complete all your underwear and then I will show you how to do your blouses and skirts'

I started with knickers and panty girdles, as they were the easiest, and progressed to bras which although tricky seemed quite easy to master. I finished off with the slips and then asked Donna Lucia to come and inspect my work. She inspected the bras and knickers and said they were not perfect but quite acceptable, however the slips were totally unacceptable as I had ironed creases into the material. I explained I was having difficulty with them as the garment was bigger than the ironing board. She showed me how to do the slips again and this time I managed to make an acceptable job of them. 'Put all these completed items in your lingerie drawer'. I didn’t know I had a lingerie drawer, but guessed it was where my underpants used to reside.

'Now you may do your skirts, they are of quite a plain design so you shouldn’t have any difficulty'. I didn’t know how I was going to do my uniform skirts as they were a mass of pleats. That was a problem for a later date. I pressed the skirts and hung them on frilly coathangers that Lucia had provided. Now that I had had a little experience of ironing I attempted to do one of my blouses but I got into a dreadful state, I couldn’t manage the sleeves at all and had to call Lucia to help me. Lucia told me it was no use trying to run before I could walk and showed me how to do each part of the garment and get perfect creases on the sleeves. I tried again with another blouse but was not happy with the result. Lucia told me to keep practising until it was perfect and ready for her inspection. Eventually I managed to get it something like, and asked Lucia to inspect. 'Yes it’s OK but I expect improvements over the next few weeks especially when you are ironing my things'. I thanked Lucia for her help and hung my blouses and skirts in my wardrobe.

'I think we will have fried chicken with salad and potatoes for evening meal, please put away the ironing things and prepare the meal'. 'Si Donna Lucia'. I was fairly good at cooking as I had liked to help my mother in the kitchen and she had showed me how to do things. Lucia congratulated me on my efforts and even helped me with the washing up.

As we relaxed on the sofa with a cup of coffee Lucia put her arm around me and said that she had really enjoyed having a new daughter to take shopping and to help with the housework, and asked how I had enjoyed my first day of girlhood. I told her that I really liked my new uniform but I didn’t want to repeat my humiliation in front of strangers I had been very embarrassed and felt really vulnerable. 'Well as long as you are a good girl and help me around the house, I don’t see the need for regular humiliation although you certainly will be humiliated if you are naughty'. She went on to remind me that I still needed regulation school girl knickers to complete my uniform but she would buy these for my Christmas present. I could wear my ‘grown up’ knickers until then.  I also needed a pinafore to protect my nice new clothes when I was doing the housework.  As Miss MacDonald was offering a beautiful one as a prize for the Christmas competition, I was to enter by writing about my feminisation, Lucia had already checked with Miss MacDonald that the competition was open to members of staff. Lucia said it would be lovely if I won, I would be able to send in a photograph of myself wearing the pinafore over my school uniform.

Lucia went on to explain that after I had completed my Spanish lessons sufficiently to receive my instructions in Spanish, I might be allowed access to my adult wear and I might even be allowed to buy myself a maid’s uniform for housework. All this time she was running her hand up and down my thighs beneath my skirt. She pulled down my tights and panty girdle and we made love right there on the sofa.

The following day, Sunday, we were going hill walking. I was allowed access to my male attire but I still had to wear bra, knickers and panty girdle underneath. Lucia thought that this was a good idea as the restrictive clothing may slow me down a bit and allow her to keep up more easily. This was certainly true, as the tight bra did seem to affect my breathing.

After we returned, I showered, changed my underwear and put on my school uniform and pinny in order to put all the walking gear in the washing machine and prepare the evening meal. In bed that night Lucia explained that for the remaining days of work before Christmas I could wear my knickers beneath my business suit and change into my uniform in the evening to prepare the evening meal and do my Spanish homework. I wouldn’t be allowed access to my male underwear at all, that was just being kept for emergencies such as visits to the doctor and trips that might involve bag searches by airport security or customs.

On Christmas morning, we opened our presents, I had a wonderful surprise as in addition to six pairs of British Racing Green school knickers Lucia had bought me two beautiful petticoats, the type that are worn like a full slip with layers of net from the waist to the hem. She explained that with this type if any unexpected visitors arrived I wouldn’t be able to take them off like I could with the normal petticoat – I would have to keep a fairly heavy dressing gown to hand to avoid any embarrassment.

My present to Lucia was a beautiful matching set of silk underwear in peach, and a red trouser suit.

And so dear readers, this is my story thus far, a totally obedient schoolgirl taking Spanish lessons to please my wife and mistress. I hope you have enjoyed it and wish everyone a very happy Christmas and feminine New Year.
Julie Anne

I would especially like to thank Miss MacDonald for all her hard work in providing a wonderful magazine in 2000, and look forward to future editions in the approaching year.