Since roughly last October I have been envolved in a strange passport dilemma which keeps getting worse and not better.
I had an appointment at the British Consulate here to swear an afidavit to get one step further on the track of divorcing.On that fated morning, the passport was nowhere to be found. I only ever keep it in my bedside table, and it was NOT THERE.
I have to cancel the appointment, then later search high and low with no result.
I am lucky, really lucky, as the lady at the consulate agrees to do the swearing process with copies of my now 'temporary miss-placed' passport. May I add at this point, that there is only one person at the consulate in Muscat who can do it, so I have already waited 2 weeks while she was out of the country.
Wow. The emotion hits me by surprise as I hold the Bible in the right hand and my other on the divorce papers.
Whar bitter-sweet mixed feeling.
I leave the consulate with the sun on my back, feeling melancholy and relief and wondering if it is too early for some chilled alcoholic beverage.
Anyway, I am in complete denial about the passport and I am convinced it has slipped behind something or under something. I comb the house in stages and then I comb the house again. I pretend to ignore the issue.
Then comes the note from the lawyer that the court has thrown out the papers for some unknown reason.
I mean this is the simplest divorce in the history of divorces, no money, no children ,no property, nothing, but still some problem with the formulation of the papers. I can't say I am really blaming the lawyer, but yes, I am blaming the lawyer.
He has to redraft the papers and send them again and I have to swear the afidavit again. But to do it without a passport? They won't use the copies again, I should have reported it missing by now and have applied for a replacement.
Up to that point I had spent a lot of time blaming Andy, and then the lawyer, and then suddenly and ironically all the blame shifted to me in one of those 'fine line' moments.
By now it is close to Christmas and I am booked to spend a week in Germany with my friends Norbert and Brigitte enjoying a sublime Christmas in the snow eating traditional cookies and drinking schnaps.
What to do?
I am going to have a cup of tea with melktert now... to be continued.....
I had an appointment at the British Consulate here to swear an afidavit to get one step further on the track of divorcing.On that fated morning, the passport was nowhere to be found. I only ever keep it in my bedside table, and it was NOT THERE.
I have to cancel the appointment, then later search high and low with no result.
I am lucky, really lucky, as the lady at the consulate agrees to do the swearing process with copies of my now 'temporary miss-placed' passport. May I add at this point, that there is only one person at the consulate in Muscat who can do it, so I have already waited 2 weeks while she was out of the country.
Wow. The emotion hits me by surprise as I hold the Bible in the right hand and my other on the divorce papers.
Whar bitter-sweet mixed feeling.
I leave the consulate with the sun on my back, feeling melancholy and relief and wondering if it is too early for some chilled alcoholic beverage.
Anyway, I am in complete denial about the passport and I am convinced it has slipped behind something or under something. I comb the house in stages and then I comb the house again. I pretend to ignore the issue.
Then comes the note from the lawyer that the court has thrown out the papers for some unknown reason.
I mean this is the simplest divorce in the history of divorces, no money, no children ,no property, nothing, but still some problem with the formulation of the papers. I can't say I am really blaming the lawyer, but yes, I am blaming the lawyer.
He has to redraft the papers and send them again and I have to swear the afidavit again. But to do it without a passport? They won't use the copies again, I should have reported it missing by now and have applied for a replacement.
Up to that point I had spent a lot of time blaming Andy, and then the lawyer, and then suddenly and ironically all the blame shifted to me in one of those 'fine line' moments.
By now it is close to Christmas and I am booked to spend a week in Germany with my friends Norbert and Brigitte enjoying a sublime Christmas in the snow eating traditional cookies and drinking schnaps.
What to do?
I am going to have a cup of tea with melktert now... to be continued.....
No comments:
Post a Comment