allochthonous: (i cannot rest from travel)
Yesterday I fulfilled a long-held ambition of renewing my passport because it was full. Given that my date of departure has crept up on me rather, this required an obscene amount of money (my first adult passport cost me £30 as I recall - this one was more than four times that), but on the flip side, I was holding the thing four hours after I handed over the cash. It is very shiny and full of birds, and very empty.

One of the very first things I posted on my LJ was a love letter to an old passport, and my feelings are almost identical this time around. That battered little red book full of garish stickers is a record of two of the most remarkable years of my life so far, and I am very loath to relinquish it, despite its unfortunate penchant for hanging out with strange policemen. I trust the new one will have as illustrious and geographically interesting a career as its predecessor, but the Iran-Afghanistan Axis of Showing Off will take some beating. Woe is me, for I will have to go to more places. Oh well, if I must.

While waiting for the new passport to appear I went with my mum to see the Hajj exhibition at the British Museum (and drink coffee. Our BM trips usually double as coffee appreciation trips, as the BM is close to many of the best central London coffee shops, and while Wild and Wood is still just ahead in the coffee stakes, I can also report that the Fleet River Bakery is also does a very reasonable flat white and not bad cake, either). I have Thoughts about the exhibition which I wil write up when I have more time, but I will say that I'm pretty sure quite a few women have made the hajj over the past 1400-odd years, and it would've been nice to hear something from some of them.


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April 2015



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