I was wrong to think that the passport photograph was the worst in the history of humanity, because version 2, which I had to have taken this afternoon, is far, far worse.

The horrid photograph is all rather ego denting to be perfectly honest. I am so very, very vain, what on earth will I do when I am an old lady? But it is all in the pursuit of greater things.

So, I toddled down to the local (to Marie Celeste) post office for my passport interview. The multiple name changes posed no problem (amazement!), but the photograph did – my head was not big enough, nor was my face quite square-on. So another appointment was made for tomorrow afternoon and I ran (okay, fast-walked) to the photographer (on the other side of the city) for a replacement.

I tell myself that these delays occur so that we might find a super-fantastic airfare deal that we would not have found if it had not been for the delay – but I am rather a nutcase in these sort of matters.

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