I arrived at the Indian high commission to collect my visa only to realise that I hadn’t read the small print. The small print specified between '1 and 4pm', it is 11.30. I decided to wait across the street in a cafe and indulge in a second breakfast. After writing some emails and making some Facebook friend requests I left feeling more organised, more popular…. and a little fatter.
I got back to the commission at 1.00 sharp to find a QUEUE?! No one told me that I could come at 12.30 and wait. Half an hour later I finally get to the desk only to suffer another punishment of 'small print neglect', the consequence of which is more time wasted and a photocopier that doesn’t want to work. I could feel my leg start to jitter.....the waiter in that cafe MUST have given me a caffeinated Americano despite my asking for decaf..... I sensed my calm demeanour rapidly beginning to slip away. I found myself turning repeatedly to the smiling Indian lady stood behind me to ask for help, only to realise with annoyance that she was a cardboard cut out. This began to become worryingly compulsive as I turned to her again, and then again, each time remembering (after the fact) that she could not help me. I became more and more agitated…and began to hope that this was not a sign of things to come, I imagined that all the seasoned India travellers surrounding me must surely be mocking me by now.
Finally it all fell into place. It only took 2 and a half hours. India here I come.....