The return to England

Because I wasn't nervous enough already, the flight from Amsterdam to Gatwick had to include vast amounts of turbulence, requiring us to plunge to lower altitudes on more than one occurence.

Finally we land. I consider tossing my cookies in a few garbage cans in the terminal, but manage to eventually make it to immigration control. Sadly, unlike in Amsterdam, there is clear distinction between EU and non-EU passports, leaving me to go it alone in what is bound to be the slow-lane. Slow it was. And needless to say, extremely nerve-wracking. When I finally make it up there, I briefly explain the situation to the immigration officer and present my documentation. He cleared stated that the police report was useless (which is understandable as it appears to be jibberish) and asked me a series of questions. He then went and spent a good ten minutes in The Booth with the head immigration officer whilst I stood there trying not to hyperventilate. Oh, and the travel buddies were sitting on the other side of great divide having a jolly old time with some guy from the National Statistics Office. Finally, FINALLY, the guy comes back and tells me that I've got two months to get the new visa situation sorted out and gives me a card for the home office. I try not to look too excited as I walk through to the other side.

The train journy from Gatwick back to Southampton was also frought with difficulties. As they were for the most part somewhat self-inflicted, I won't go into detail. But I will say that it involved traveling on 4 different trains when 2 should have sufficed. And to top things off, nobody had any cash when we got back into the train station and we had to walk about 20 minutes to find a working ATM so I could borrow cash for the cab ride home. Once I made it back I of course had to go to reception to try and get a new key out of them. Needless to say, not my favorite day.