Wednesday, September 19, 2007
News is, I am going to St Petersburg. On my way to Glasgow.
Only that the Russian consulate have stolen my passport and gone into lockdown. Incommunicado.
This has caused me much hyperventilation.
I have broken out in hives, (whatever hives may be, I have broken out in them.)
I had a meggie-moment yesterday,
scurrying about posting the business mail for the Mr F, attempting to earn yet more good points, I noticed a scruffy, tragic type at the post offfice counter, scuffling throught the phone books. Arduously going throught he columns of addresses, slowly, sliding his finger down each column. So agitated was he, that I almost asked if he wanted me to help him look, I watched him over top of my envelopes as I stuck on the stamps.
He laboriously copied out the address when he finally found it.."Master Jack...."
The envelope was red, a birthday card.
He drew a little face in the corner, a smiling one with merry eyes, so unlike his own.
On the back , he wrote "Bill Jones-your daddy!! xxxx"
I managed to make it out the door before I burst into tears.
"Despair", Ilya Glazunov, from Dostoyevski's "Netochka Nezvanova"
Today, a man approached me looking very hard-done-by. He asked for $1.90. Quite nicely, politely. Like he just wanted change.
I laughed and asked if he needed it for the parking meter, at which explained a long sorry tale about having just gotten out of Silverwater Prison and if he asked enough people for change, he might have enough for a night in emergency housing. He had walked for two hours to find an Anglican Minister, to find him gone to Newcastle.
He said if he asked enough people politely for a small amount....
There is a fine line we walk, between keeping it all together and unravelling entirely. There, but for the grace of something , I could be walking myself.
There was $50 in my wallet.
"I wasn't meaning to beg, love." he said "but thanks"
I knew that.
It wasn't so bad hugging him. He needed it.
I can't help but think I was buying my way out of something. Yeah, ok, perhaps he went straight to the Orient Hotel with it, yeah, maybe. But maybe not.
A Russian Visa is the least of a person's troubles.
Here is a love heart to cheer you up.