Summertime – alive, not dead in the German Embassy

Its a hot sunny day with over 30°C in London. I have to pick up my new passport and for that reason I combine this need with the joy to walk to the German Embassady, which leads me through some very nice quarters of London from the Natural History Museum in South Kensington to the area at Belgravia/Knightsbridge.

Not a bad hood either. Rock’n hard bro’. And cookin’ hard yo, because the idea to cut the hair to 6mm these hot days and not wearing a base cap, well makes me wearing now some ice-cold yoghurt to cool my slightly burned scalp while writing these words in the evening. Enjoying a gloriously colored sunset, drinking some bitter lemon, additional lime added. Beautiful. Ice would be just too much, too perfect.

But back to the embassy. To pick up the passport up I could go straight to line number 3 without the need to draw a number and to wait long. However, one person in front is sometimes enough. Persistently asking repeatedly questions, which the really friendly embassy assistant has repeatedly to deny to know. It ends that he sits down to other persons complaining that the personnel does not know what they should know. Well, all information about the new german id-card is available in the online information. I know that, I had the same questions. Sometimes it helps to read.

Yet, waiting I really had a fun-time. A nice elder couple had obviously problems with their passports. He was classically old school dressed in a Jacket, Hat. She in an exquisite costume and explained slightly embarrassed but still gentle that she is not dead. Well, I’ d agree, quot erat demonstrandum… And she silently proceeds to say that she is here, and she really needs the passport… I would have felt a bit naughty if I had listened more. So I allowed my attention to be drawn away by the sports channel showing an older press conference of “Kloppo” my favorite trainer of Borussia Dortmund. What a cool, awesome dude. Anyhow, the Indian lady in line 4 next to me distracted me a again when she tried to explain that she has no daughter. But a son. Who is 4 years old and cannot be 1,80 m. Hm… well, they say India is a fast growing nation, but… that fast?

Then it was my turn. I said “Hi, my name is Bjoern v Reumont (in German – strange feeling) and I would like to pick up my new passport”. And the young lady smiled at me and said, “ah, der Herr Doktor (ah… the mister doctor), we were wondering when you pick up your passport – its here for a while since some month”. I had to laugh and said that it was not being late relying on the “academic quarter”(15 to ∞ min, note by the author), but seriously I did not receive the first notification mail.

I walked happily and smiling back to work. So own stories, so funny, absurd moments in that 30 min.
Great. Loriot was probably enjoying that also from above.

And last but not least, all official documents up to date, the next mexico expedition to come. Arriba andale…


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