First Cracks

The last post was actually written on a Saturday on the train home. Now, after an absurdly short weekend, it’s Monday night and I’m blogging from a slightly too cold hotel room. This is likely the last week at The Employer’s offices. I fucking hope so.

There’s been a visa swingometer malarkey. First I was going out with the others on 30^th. Then, I spoke to the woman who deals with this and she told me the logistics were hopeless. LM took it on the chin and said he’d manage for the first week. I’d go out during the first week of January, probably Friday (to test a theory that you whizz through immigration and customs, of a Friday).

Then came a phone conversation between LM and HD, in which the latter pronounced a mad decree: I should travel with them as planned, on the 30^th, “on a tourist visa.”

I’m beginning to wonder if this blighter is all there. Tourist visas to HUDC are a notorious pain in the arse to arrange. Besides, I’m an employee on a contract which is blessed by C. Moutard himself. Entering the country by nefarious means would not only get the whole business off on the wrong foot, but could theoretically involve Your Own Correspondent being Bound Gagged and Sodomised in an HUDC jail, and left without his supper, to boot. “Fuck that”, I said, in a roundabout way.