In Soviet Russia, This Guy Looks Like You

The Russian visa people had told me that I could come in any time on Tuesday to collect my visa. Being one of those smug British passport holders and being therefore unaccustomed to applying for visas, and being unfamiliar with Russian bureaucracy, I decided to trust them, and merrily arrived at the visa centre at 3.30 on Tuesday afternoon, to discover that "any time" meant "between 5 and 5.30", which is one of the most specific definitions of "any time" I've ever encountered.

So I found a church garden and lay there in the very pleasant spring sunshine for an hour or so until I could actually go and pick up my visa. Once I was there at the right time, it actually went smoothly enough, which was a relief, and so I could set off for Russia the next morning without fear of being deported. Or arrested. Or sent to Siberia. Or whatever it is they do if you don't have a visa.

Ali likes not being sent to Siberia. And also trams.

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Capslock Springtime and the Great Beroubling

Last weekend was my birthday!

And we ate cake.

And cookies and lemon squares and malva pudding and chocolate mousse cake and hummus and muffins.

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Yeomen, Raptors, and a Guy in a Carrot Suit

Right, Yeomen. That thing with the costumes and the singing! And the guy in a carrot suit! And which happened so long ago that I've already caught up on work and sleep!

 
To be honest, I'm still impressed that I managed to survive it at all, given that I arrived back from Bali, after several hundred hours in transit, in the middle of the dress rehearsal. But I gamely put my dress on over my travelling clothes and trudged onto stage in my takkies in time to join in the excitement about an arquebus (fired from the wharf, unless I much mistake). I think the real excitement lay in finding out where Fairfax's apparently extensive knowledge of 16th century weaponry came from, but never mind.

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Truth be Told, I'd Settle for a Life Less Frightening

Do you want to know why I'm sad today?

(Source)

Here's why I'm sad today. This is the sort of stuff I find myself reading on a daily basis.

Keith O'Brien: we cannot afford to indulge this madness
Fired for using birth control? It could be possible in Arizona
Kansas to Pregnant Women: "A Little Lie from Your Doctor Won't Hurt You."
Moroccan Girl Kills Herself After Judge Forces Her to Marry Her Rapist
I accused my husband of rape. I was locked up – and he was set free
#ididnotreport*

(Triggers for sexual assualt and things abound. Click carefully.)

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Anti-Anti-Tourism and Homeward Bound

My long-overdue final Bali post! In my defence, I've been busy. Some of the time even doing actual work, and not wasting time on the internet. Or something.

Anyway, Bali.

Pay no attention to the lazy blogger behind the curtain.

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Shock and Awww

I said the wedding deserved a blog post all to itself, but now that I get to it, I realise that I don't know what to say. It was just... lovely.

Wedding yay!

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Crispy Blog Post of Miracle

I'm back home! (Not home home. Just home.) And I'm still blogging Bali, but slowly, because I have work to catch up on, and it's show week, which is something else to be blogging about once I finally catch up here. But I'm taking deep, calming breaths, and drinking lots of tea, and I'll be fine and totally probably get everything done. At some stage.

So, Bali.

After La arrived on Friday, we were firmly resolved to go out and go exploring. But Denpasar hadn't become any more interesting since that morning, so after a lot of Googling, we settled on going out for lunch. At an Indian restaurant. Across the road. We are bad tourists, and possibly bad humans.

We have disappointed the statue.

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