Improvement - the wait to collect the passports was shorter than that to apply for renewal (only an hour). Unfortunately I drew the short straw and got rude receptionist to serve me. No hello, please, thank you through the whole conversation and a good-bye which sounded more like a f-off. When she had located the passports she called out my name without using the title and managed to mispronounce my son's surname (takes some doing) and in a 2 minute exanged slipped in a complaint about a colleague and scolded me for checking the details too fast. Does one get put on some sort of unofficial consular blacklist if one writes to the Consul to suggest a member of their staff would be better suited to roles which did not involve contacts with the puplic, that is unless the Consul is keen to perpetuate the cliche that all French people are rude of course ? Still I must have been in a really good mood as I did not once feel like pushing out of the way people on the tube who can't grasp the concept of stand on the right, people who stop and drop their luggage in the middle of the corridors to check the map and people who struggle with the idea of putting your ticket in the slot, taking it again on your way through and getting a move one cause nobody likes to spend more time in the confines of the underground than strictly necessary. Can't work out if the general mellowing was due to creeping old age or the mood enhancing virtues of cucumber rolls (personally I blame it on the soy sauce and seaweed). Him Indoors has been packing and I have done my bit by staying out of his way and picking green beans in the garden this morning to prepare a salad for the journey. However carefully we organise the packing there is a rule which cannot be broken : "100 miles down the road one of us will remember some essential item which has been left out because we thought the other one was dealing with it" so this time he is in charge, that way when the missed item comes to light Him Indoors can take the blame. One question remains: should I pack my wetsuit (my seal costume as The Boy calls it). I was urged to try it on last night to check it still fitted and decided against providing the man in my life with a few minutes of comedy, nothing like watching me wriggle into rubber and contort myself to grap the end of the zip and wriggle again but with a hand over between my shoulder blades to make him laugh out loud. Having seen the gymnastics for myself in the mirror when I first tried it on in the shop's changing room, I have to admit it is rather funny to watch. Still I decided to be mean and deprived him of a fit of the giggles - and no I won't post a picture of me posing as a sea lion.
Passport - check...
13.8.04 10:52
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nuttycow / Website (26.8.04 19:22) Take it - if all fails you can make him wear it which might be amusing. |
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(27.8.04 21:27) wet suits make you look 2 sizes smaller. Not long till Rugby starts. I'm having fun with a NET NANNY it won't let me into half the blog sites |
