The plan was for Bobs and me to go to the SA High Commission together this morning, sort out his passport renewal, and then nip across the other side of Trafalgar Square to the National Gallery for a little while, have a bite to eat somewhere nice, and be back at Bobby's work by 1.45, since he had an afternoon meeting. Seemed like a nice way to combine a chore with a date.

What actually happened was that we went to the SA High Commission, were told to go their office on Whitehall instead (just round the corner so no big deal), and then had to wait ... and wait ... and wait ... and wait .... and wait .... and wait. Evidently their new appointment system still has a few glitches in it; they seemed to have quadruple-booked each time-slot.

So, by the time the forms were checked and the fingerprints were taken, it was 12.50, and we just had time to grab a sandwich at Charing Cross and fling ourselves onto the train.

What a waste of a day off!

However, I shouldn't complain too much, since I only have two more days of work before the holidays start. And, they did renew my contract for next year, so I don't have to spend the holiday job-hunting.

Waiting there with all the other South Africans, surrounded by people with accents like ours, it felt almost like we were back there. A bit disorienting to emerge outside into England again.

Had to laugh at one couple. They were on holiday over here, and needed emergency passports, since theirs had been stolen yesterday. But, although they'd been victims of crime over here, they spent ages telling someone who was applying for a visa to study in Cape Town about how careful they should be over there, and how bad things are at the moment, what with "all the crime".