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Published: March 10th 2008
I have it on good authority (i.e., my dad) that a Fed-Ex package has arrived for me today from Moscow. Now, barring the possibility that the KGB are recruiting (I've already told them no, but they ARE tenacious), those will be my tickets and my Russian Tourist invitations........ Causes for celebration, combined with the fact I've booked myself some travel inoculations for a week (Yes, I will spend St Patrick's day in post-vaccination bum-injection pain - though Wales having won the 2008 6 Nations, nay, the Grand Slam, will help in no small part I am sure), AND I have received an email informing me that I'm now the proud recipient of an Australian Working Holiday Subclass 417 Visa, and I have just started my last week of work............ it's all coming together in a way that I would love to say resembles Germanic engineering, but is in fact more akin to an enormous magnet being turned on in a scrap yard. The only thing between me and panic is Janet Jackson signing to me about Nasty Boys. She doesn't like their nasty food you know.
I have also been advised that I should do my IDC (Scuba instructor course) in Thailand, and grab me some certs there, upgrade and then try working in Oz..... so that's another thing to consider.
Thank you to a certain lovely who came up with the most fantastic gesture to 'celebrate' our last weekend in town together, helped in no small part by some SUPERB rugby (for us at any rate). Yet another reminder to me about all the lovely people I've successfully surrounded myself with, only to RIP myself away from to go gallivanting across the world. Never fear though my sugary-beauties, I'll galliveryvant with enough panache and exuberance to make it all worthwhile.
Also I effectively gained a week once it was pointed out I had 4 weeks from yesterday, granting me an extra week to spend getting up at 5am to go to various Consulates. Hurrah! I've never been to an embassy or consulate in my entire life! I'm reminded in ever-increasing clarity about the time I tried to get a passport, an effort which ended in abject failure and tears, only to be rectified by my dad. Happily I am 9 years older now, and infinitely wiser. How hard can it be?
Stay tuned for the answer to that deceptively rhetoric question.
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mywifedave
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oh that comment title is so witty. I'M so witty. but i digress. GOOD LUCK. both with the trip, the pre-trip tribulations and the rugby. gooooooooooooooooooooooooooo WALES!