Early in the morning, I stand in front of my cupboard, searching for an outfit suitable for a visit to Tredgold House to apply for Ellie's external birth certificate. It is very important to wear the right clothes when dealing with officialdom. I need something fairly bland and unremarkable as they like quashing people who look too glamorous or sophisticated. As I am always either glamorous or sophisticated, this is a difficult task. (All those people who take me literally, this is called being humorous.)
I don't know what time Tredgold House opens, but when we get there at eight, there is already a queue a mile long. However, we discover we do not have to join it. That is not our queue, thank goodness. The man in charge asks us if we need to make an appointment to which we respond that we haven't a clue. He rolls his eyes in a way that is characteristic of a teenager having to deal with a technologically inept parent. He sends us into another office where we speak to a very polite, helpful lady who considers our plight.
The office is a standard government one: piled high with files and papers, with yellowed notices falling off the wall, mission statements in cheap gold frames and curtains that are far too short hung with about three curtain hooks so that they loop down, looking very untidy. I often wonder if someone didn't just go and take all the curtains in every government institution down one day to wash them and then just sent them randomly back to whatever room they felt like with the result that some long windows have short curtains and other short windows have curtains that drag on the floor. Everyone who works in these places is miserable. The answer, I believe, is Feng Shui. If only they could just throw all these files away and replace them with a couple of water fountains and goldfish, they would all be a lot happier. I want to tell them that they should always keep corners free of clutter as they collect bad energy, but I am not sure my advice will be too readily received. One thing I like about this office is that the lady has quite a number of African violets growing in pots on the windowsill. This is a start and explains why she is the happiest person I have seen in the building.
The nice lady says she doesn't know if Ellie qualifies for the extended Zimbabwean passport as we are on foreign passports. The fact that I was born in Zimbabwe and have lived here most of my life, means very little. She phones someone who doesn't know either. She phones Harare and has a long conversation with someone about her son who is doing a pharmacy degree. Finally, she says: 'The reason I am actually phoning you is to ask ...' However, Harare do not know either. Eventually, she takes my phone number and says she will get back to me.
In the evening, someone from Botswana phones and books to stay the weekend. He says he saw us advertised on booking.com, but thought he would book directly so that we don't have to pay commission. I am wondering how he got our contact details as booking.com do not release them until you have booked.
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