Pro:
Monday Steve and I drove down to Sheffield, stopping in Manchester to have a late dinner on the Curry Mile with a friend of Steve's. The Indian sweets were delightful.
Con:
We were driving to Sheffield for Steve's appointment on Tuesday with the border patrol about his visa and we spent most of Monday waiting around for the university to process a letter he needed to take with him. At one point, the university staff called to say they couldn't produce the letter because Steve studies part-time. It was all a case of semantics, because part-time to the border patrol equals far fewer hours than part-time to the university, but we spent a significant chunk of time determining what we would do if the visa was denied. Steve thought we should just be illegal immigrants somewhere and start a meth lab. I thought we should open a wig factory in the sunsphere or be moon colonists (no immigration requirements there, so far).
Pro:
The sat nav (GPS) routed us to Sheffield through the peaks of the Peak District, where I have always wanted to go.
Con:
It was after midnight when we were driving through, so we couldn't actually see the peaks.
Pro:
We did obtain the visa. Hooray, hooray, hooray! Everyone at the border patrol office was surprisingly pleasant, considering the job they do. If I worked there, I would be notably less pleasant.
Con:
Obtaining the visa involved sitting in a crowded waiting room for three and a half hours. (Well, for Steve. I left after two hours to get a new pay and display sticker and to walk around and view the oldest bridge in Sheffield.)
Pro:
We found the most fantastic indoor market. We had super inexpensive roasted pork sandwiches topped with applesauce and stuffing from a tiny little counter diner run by Sallie and then we browsed the fantastic meat/fish/produce stalls upstairs.
Con:
There were no cons to the market. It was exactly what a market should be. We probably should have bought that pound of medjool dates for a pound, though.
Con:
I felt sick for most of the long drive home.
Pro:
Steve determined that I would feel better if we listened to "only the sweetest tunes" of Roger Whittaker. Surprisingly, Roger did temporarily make me feel better.
Con:
Now we are home and I have discovered that every company in the world has been busy double charging me for services and I'm going to have to make a bunch of terrible phone calls to demand that they stop trying to gouge me.
Pro:
I think we still have some of our Indian sweets from Manchester to keep me from punching a hole in the wall.
5 comments:
My dad used to make us listen to "A White Sport Coat and a Pink Carnation" on road trips. That, and the Carpenters. My siblings and I can still sing all of the words. It never helped me with nausea, but I'm glad it worked for you.
This is a great post! I feel a part of your up and down day. I am glad you guys are legal, as it makes most of life easier. This made me think of LITTLE BEE actually, the first time I ever thought about illegal aliens in England. I think that is all. I hope you enjoy fighting businesses on the phone--I find it empowering and annoying at the same time.
I was just going to email to see how Sheffield went. Too bad it was dark for most of the trip. Hooray for the curry and pork sandwiches and visa application.
I might recommend Enya as a peaceful music choice or Neil Diamond's Johnathan Livingstone Seagull. It usually puts me to sleep.
Mind the walls in the flat most of them are solid concrete. There is a stretch on the wall between the computer room and the living room though.
KWB
I have a recipe for meth if you want it, just saying
John
CSIowa--I usually insist on John Denver in the car, but we only had Steve's CDs on this trip.
Eliana--Actually, STEVE is legal. I'm still here on a tourist visa, so we'll have to go through spouse visa hassle for me in the summer.
KWB--Oh, yes, I'd forgotten about the concrete walls. That could have been disastrous!
John--Oh, good, because I told Steve would probably had to scupper that plan, since I don't have a recipe and Sudafed's not sold over the counter anymore.
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