Along with being bluddy sicker than the hounds after a good week’s romping in the wet Baskervilles... I have to nod in admiration for how life always lives up to its ironies.
Weeks of sitting around getting border, I have a moment of creativity to restart the blog, only to almost instantly be pummelled with work to an extent that leaving the office at 5 is a luxury, let alone attending to hobbies.
And I am meant to visit it up in the Free State from tomorrow for a week. Except this time it won’t be in the prettier parts.
But I really want to go, cause we’ll be meeting some of the kids that the project’s actually meant to helping.
That would be nice. Having faces to my beneficiaries.
But now let me take myself and my Plague to the Cop Shop, for a good old finger printing. To assure the Aussie government that I am Police Clear.... as well as HIV clear (!), TB clear, Foreign Mother Tongue clear, and fake birth certificate clear.
Who would’ve thought it would be so bureaucratic to weasel oneself into an island full of Criminalised Offspring!
4 comments:
But that's just it...the aussies have perfected the "weeding" exercise!
good luck with all the certification - if you like we could just go to the Aussie embassy and chat to them on your behalf!
Yuck! Good luck with the Cop Shop. I hate that place.
Man, I am getting bad with replying to comments! But please don't think I don't LOVE comments!
Dolce - Bastard ozzies!!! Hmmm....maybe I need to work on this rapid response before the big move...
Benz - :) Thanks! So far getting the forms in is proving easy. Speak to me in 8 - 12 weeks when I am need to get them back!
And yup yup, go and bash about those ozzie embassy folk for me. (Again, wrong rapid response!)
The Spear - They sent me to the warehouse. You have to feel rejected when they don't even want you in teh actual shop!!
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