Still trying to leave the country

I thought you’d like to know how I got on this morning.

I left it till not far short of closing time … for superstitious reasons really. After all, twice I’d got there early, to no avail.

There was a man behind the counter this time. Pleasant, friendly, almost charming (as they all had been actually). I produced the application which he checked thoroughly, then I confidently tabled the photo (which had been declared perfect by the Tuesday woman, if you remember).

“Oh,” he said, “they won’t accept this.”

“What!” I grated in lethal tones, “this is the FOURTH time I’ve been here … WHY won’t they accept it?”

“It’s too big,” he said, and produced an oval cut-out thingy which had not made an appearance before. My head didn’t fit within the oval (haven’t they heard of ‘full bleed’).

I found myself speaking in slow, excessively clear, icy-toned syllables … a sure sign of impending danger to those in the know – “It fits within the specifications in the application form. I deliberately made it not as large as the maximum and not as small as the minimum.”

He measured it and admitted I was right, so he had to accept it. My rising anger subsided somewhat.

I had another tragic moment when I found my birth certificate was not in its envelope. Luckily I had the gumption to look in the envelope labelled “marriage certificate” (I frequently don’t put things back in their proper place) and there it was.

All complete at last, I paid the fee and collected the receipt.

It’s supposed to be processed in 3 weeks. I hope so. It’s only 8 weeks till I leave. If they find any more irregularities and return the application, I’ll have to pay the rush fee, which is probably all part of the plot.

Sigh … this is all so DRAINING.