We were ready to head to the visa office. We’d had a cooked
breakfast at a pub in Birmingham, so food wasn’t our primary concern. We’d
found the office and had time for a wander before our appointment. We also met
Emmeline Parkhurst in her statue form, standing on a chair in a priestly pose. Suddenly,
we’d realised that we hadn’t bought any envelopes to receive our modified
passports. I quickly scoured google and found a newsagent that offered a full
post office service half a mile away. We quickly bought the required documents
then realised that we’d lost our bearings and it took a while before we’d
orientated ourselves back in the right direction. Thankfully, we’d got back to
the reception five minutes before our appointment and joined the queue to be
booked in. We stood half out of breath awaiting our turn to see the visa
officer to give us permission to go on holiday.
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