P is for Passport

P is for Passport

I needed a new passport, so I had the requisite grim and unsmiling photo taken and sent everything off to the British Embassy in Paris. A couple of weeks later I received an email with the news that my passport had left the embassy, through the auspices of a nice-sounding lady called Nicola, and had been entrusted to the care of DHL. I could, if I wished, track its progress. I wished.

My passport started by having a little night-time tour of Paris. I wasn’t too jealous as I’m going to Paris myself in August, probably without the passport. It left Paris at midnight to go to — Leipzig. That puzzled me slightly as I think Leipzig is nearer Prague than Toulouse — its stated destination before coming to me. It stayed in Germany about four hours before heading off, at six o’clock this morning, to Brussels where it arrived at 15h09. I like Brussels, so no problem there, though it did seem a rather backward move. When I last looked, it was still there, so I thought it would spend the night in Belgium. Then, at about 17h45 there was a ring at the door. You’ve guessed it. It was the passport. All I can say is that it must have covered the 929km from Brussels to St Antonin with amazing speed. Still, I don’t have to worry about renewing it now until 2022 — and I have nothing but praise for the British Embassy in Paris and DHL.