passport saga

My flatmate was abandoning me for the weekend and leaving for a lovely weekend in Paris. Still on Friday night she had not packed her bags but this was not a great cause of concern as Paris is a wonderful place for shopping (or so they say) and hence if something was left behind it could easily be replaced.

In theory.

Early early on Saturday morning I heard her move in the apartment but as I had now reason to get up I turned around and continued dreaming.

At 7AM my phone rang.

She was at the train station, her eurostar was leaving in less than 30minutes and she had no passport.

I found the important document from her bedside. There was only one thing I could do.

I pulled a jacket over my pyjamas, ran downstairs to the minicab and asked for a lift to the station. Half asleep I arrived in front of St Pancreas, paid the driver who kindly said he would wait for me, declined the offer as knew that the meter would be running the whole time and sprinted inside to find my flatmate.

Nowhere to be seen. Because I did not have my glasses on.

Luckily in no time she appeared in front of me, with her bags and I could give her back her precious travel document.

Clearly pleased with my effort she thanked me and ran towards the security check and the passport control and the train that was already boarding and left me standing in the middle of the station in my pyjamas.

I stood there for a short while wondering what my next move would be.

Eventually I walked to a café, got a latte and started making my way back…to bed.