triskellian

Credit is due, by the way, to

smiorgan for the last entry. I'm now on a very hot train, speeding (well, OK, creeping) out of Paddington station, with a valid passport in my possession. Sadly, my puter and my phone don't talk to each other (they might if I introduced them, but I haven't yet), so I'm typing this in a text editor for later transferring. No, the text editor isn't called iText ;-) Things I have discovered today:

The 7.10 train should get us into London in time to catch the train to France tomorrow
I went to the wrong school. Somewhere on the circle line, there's a school with a uniform of a purple blazer, purple gingham dress, purple hair bands and purple school bag.
The passport office's computer systems can't cope with my surname. I had to wait about ten minutes while it sorted through them, with little progress, before the woman serving me decided to cancel it and try a different approach. Cancelling the request caused the computer to hang, and then the different approach took about ten more minutes.
There's a reasonable take away sandwich/coffee place in the passport office, and the waiting room is quite nice. Somehow I was expecting nasty vinyl flooring, too-strong tea and ham sandwiches. They seemed to be showing the Disney version of Peter Pan, too, although I was reading Mourn's Gift and playing The Sims, so I didn't watch it.

And strange coincidences of the day:

Despite the niceness of the passport office sandwich place, I decided to go to the cafe across the road for a sandwich at lunchtime. Many of their sandwiches featured a mysterious ingredient called 'DM'. I meant to ask what it was, but forgot. When I ate my sandwich, the only thing I could taste which wasn't an ingredient I was expecting was mustard, so DM must've been 'Dijon mustard'.
The last person to sign to collect a passport before me may have been the best friend of my first boss

Anyway, that's enough of that. Typing on a train isn't particularly easy.