On becoming a person of intrigue.

The last few weeks have seen us struggle a little as we make the mental transition from what we’ve been doing for the past couple of years to what we used to do before we were imprisoned on our very large island.

Everything to do with travel has changed, things cost more than we remember, and there’s an enormous amount of “electronic” paperwork to come to terms with all of which needs to printed on some ancient stuff called “paper”.   Who is trying to kid who?

There was a point where we knew we’d once again left our comfortable realm and entered the one of international traveller, perhaps even moving closer to becoming international persons of intrigue.  

It happened ironically perhaps as one of us sifted through what will be our worldly possessions for the next four months or so, strewn around our living room en route to one of our two smallish bags.

The other was finalising the last of the “e” documents when the question of where we might be staying arose, presumably utilising the best of modern data matching, offered us a somewhat limited choice of accomodation:

• Individual accommodation
• Hospitalized
• Residential care for senior citizens
• Jail
• Other (homeless shelter, barracks, boarding school)
• I don’t know.

Welcome back, traveller.