Everyone suffers from this. You got some sort of deadline looming – everything goes swimmingly well until an unexpected thing happen.

At work, I have been working on a project for three months, and today, I noticed one of the entries in the database for the project got corrupted. A lot of time wasted now and even more time to redo it.

If that was bad enough, I tried to delete the corrupt entry so I can create a fresh one of the same name, when I accidentally deleted the one right next to it.

Wham! Another entry gone. Yes we do have backups, but to restore the last backup would step my project back more than re-doing it all over again.

At least that’s all it happened on Friday 13th.

Whilst walking home from work one day, I was minding my own business, on a city path when I felt my foot hit something hard and small.

A small stone went flying away from my foot, right in the direction of a wee toddler, hit his little designer trainers that probably cost more than my coat, bounced up and hit his chin.

Luckily the mum never saw me kicking the stone, and I quickly walked past whilst the mum attended to her crying toddler with a sore chin and the evidence lying conspiciously on the ground.

I have an interest free overdraft with a bank. Now that I’m in Holland, and because I’m deaf, I cannot telephone the bank to renew it over the phone like most people could do. It’s due for renewal in three days’ time.

So I got my mum to go into a branch and ask them to renew it, explaining that I’m out of the country and unable to renew it myself over the phone. She pointed out it would not cost me anything to keep it on as it was interest free, and I’ve had this for a long time now, so it’s just really to extend the status quo.

The bank staff, unusually, obliged to the request but then got a denied request (for the first time in six years), and then took my overdraft off and replaced it with half that amount and now accuring interest. I am now also being charged for being “over the limit” of the new limit plus extra high interest rates.

My mum pleaded with them to extend the original terms for just a week, so that I can come in.

They wouldn’t even extend the courstey to do that, and rather let me accrue my debts VERY rapidly whilst I am unable to do anything about it. They said it was “head office orders, you will need to ring head office to resolve this” whilst embarassed that head office would not acknowledge that I could not phone them. I was not best pleased.

As mysteriously as the overdraft being denied, it was reinstated without further intervention five days later to its original terms, and all charges refunded. It’s a strange one.

I needed to renew my passport, it was due to expire in less than six months’ time and some countries won’t let you in if you had less than six months left on the passport.

I figured it would be easier to get it done and over with if I use a fast-track service (at a premium, mind you) at a passport office in the UK, rather than going to the hassle of finding an embassy in Amsterdam, filling out forms, and finding contacts and wait for it to arrive in the post in my flat in Holland as it had to be signed for.

Or so I thought.

I enquired if it was possible to get a new passport done on the same day and fly out to Amsterdam that evening and they said yes if I used the fast-track service. So I booked it for 8.30am, and needless to say, I was late, more jams on the A1 – it seems there’s always a jam on the A1 whenever I needed to be somewhere at a specific time.

Passport office: “Oh no, it’s damaged”
*pointing to a wee frayed corner*
Me: “Damaged? What? It’s fine, I got through customs on that on Friday night”
Passport office: “It’s damaged. I can’t fast-track this. You need to post it and you get a new one within 4 weeks”.
Me: “4 weeks!? I need to be in Holland tonight, it’s where I live and work”
Passport office: “Oh, we’ll do a special circumstances issue – we need a counter signature now for your photo, and a fax from your employer saying why they need you in Holland, where you live/work in Holland, when you will be in Holland, and the implications if you do not turn up.”

Well, my Dutch phone was locked and required a PUK code, so I couldn’t get hold of my employer’s contact numbers.

I didn’t know anyone in the Durham area (where the passport office is) off the top of my head who knew me for 2 years.

Me: “Can I email my employer from here?”
Passport office: “No, but there is a library and you can use them”

So, emailed my manager, who sent a fax and rang my mother’s mobile to confirm this. Meanwhile, my brother told me that his father-in-law lives in Durham, and I’d completely forgotton about him. So off we went, got him to fill in the paperwork, signed it and so on.

Passport office: “Right, what is the fax number of the person who counter-signed your photo? We need to ask him a couple of questions.”
Me: “It’s just a private individual, you never asked that the person would need access to a fax machine”.
Passport office: “Ok, I’ll ring him and tell him to go to a library to fax some details over”

It turned out, that the guy is coming into the office, rather than going to a library, and he filled in a form to say it was him that counter-signed it, and that it was I, who filled in the passport application form. That was all.

Passport office: “The next stage will take up to 4 hours, as we process it through 3 other people”.
Me: “I need to be at the airport in 4 hours, can you ask them to hurry up please?”
Passport office: “I’ll do my best.”
Me: “Can I leave and go home to collect my gear and come back later?”
Passport office: “Yes, we have your mobile number should we have any problems”

So, back to Northumberland, picked up my gear and drove back down to Durham again. By this point, I’ve driven 170 miles in my car today.

Passport office: “Unfortunately, we cannot give you a new passport today”

It turned out that my employer wasn’t forceful enough in what the consequences are – the key wording that could have decided the issue was “MAY”. If my employer used the word “WILL”, then I would have got my passport. So that what I was told until this:

Passport office: “Even if we got the fax now with the correct wording, it’s too late in the day now. Despite this, we still could not issue you a new passport, and would take a week before getting a new one”
Me: “But I could be sacked from the new job, my company would loose their contract if my project gets delayed”
Passport office: “That is not our problem, we only check documents and issue passports”
Me: “Why couldn’t have you told me this first thing this morning?”

No answer.

Me: “So what can I do now? Can I go back to Holland tonight?”
Passport office: “You could get stopped at the airport for having a damaged passport. I can’t advise you to go.”
Me: “What are my options? I need to go to Holland tonight for work, then I’m going to start work in Africa in a few weeks”
Passport office: “I don’t think you’d get into Africa on that passport, they will see it is damaged”.
Me: “So, I’m stuck basically?”
Passport office: “You could try the Consulate in Amsterdam if you do fly over and ask them to urgently process it there.”
Me: “Ok, can I take my forms and photos please?”
Passport office: “No, because the Consulate use a different application form and we need the photo with the countersignature on it for ourselves.”
Me: “Right, but I don’t know anyone in Holland who has known me for two years”
Passport office: “That’s a problem”

I flew out to Holland that night without any problems with passport control or check-in on my “damaged” passport.

Of course, they made it worse by running their fingers into it so it’s more damaged than it ever was.

Don’t you just love red tape? Answers to my problem on a postcard please.

I drove up to Newcastle (as I knew the garages up there better) and got it booked in – it went through the MOT and it failed. But not what I expected.

It passed the DVLA vehicle ID test without problems.

The main exhaust was fine.

However, the cactylic convertor needed replacing, a new king-pin and new breakpipes. Garage said they never ever replaced a king-pin before and it could be a big job. Oh great, I asked them, how big is “big”… a week I was told. But I needed to get back to work in Luton in four days’ time!

No chance. Took the train down to Luton, whilst I had progress report from my brother via texts. I decided to book a train up the following weekend and pick my car up on Saturday and drive down on the Sunday, in time to work again on Monday. I needed the car to do my meetings around Bedfordshire and then move all my furniture and stuff up to Newcastle as I’m leaving to start a new job in Holland in a matter of weeks.

Garage warned me on Friday evening that it might not be ready until Monday. Just what I needed, and might have to hire a van to move my stuff. I didn’t fancy that at all.

Luckily for me, the garage fixed my car in time for me pick it up just before they shut up shop to watch the first England game of the world cup.

My car was due for its MOT.

I dreaded needing my exhaust done, but I didn’t really want to do that until I saved up some money for a stainless steel one, so it can cope better for my off-roading hobby.

I knocked the exhaust whilst off-roading at Devil’s Pit, just north of Luton, and got Kwik Fix of Luton to weld it for free (nice one, guys!). But that meant it was leaking gases more than a tramp’s trousers holding a fart in, so it was bound to fail on emissions.

Anyhow, I was prepared for it, saved enough for a exhaust job on the back of an MOT – took it to a garage in Luton and sat inside. A young guy, was getting flummoxed by the computer, and asked whom I presumed was his boss, and spent 10 minutes fiddling around with the computer and then called me over. Oh, no, this can’t be good.

Garage: “Your car isn’t on the DVLA”
Me: “What do you mean, of course it is!”
Garage: “According to DVLA, your car does not exist”
Me: “But how could I tax it, got a previous MOT ticket and all that?”
Garage: “I don’t know, but your car failed the MOT test. Sorry”

Argh!

Last night, I got bitten by a fly (or flies) whilst I was asleep. All over both of my hands, on my forehead.

And one on my bloody eyelid.

So I squint all day at the office, and for the next few days whilst it’s swollen.

After my interview, it was getting pretty late, I texted my friend to say I’m on the way back into central London and asked him for where he is so I can get the right tube.

The last message I got from him before my mobile phone died – the battery gave up after a whole day of texting my mum to relay progress on the trains and for her to phone my interviewer of the delays and getting feedback – “I’m in a pub in Liverpool St – text me when you get to Liverpool St”.

How many pubs are there in the Liverpool Street area (not necessarily that street) – answers on a postcard please.

I did manage to meet up with my friend, after standing at one of the entrances of Liverpool Street tube station for longer than I care to remember, with untold offers of free newspapers.

I returned to Newcastle, rather sober, as there was so little time before my train was due to leave, and in my house at 2am, with a reheated Chinese takeaway (house special curry with egg fried rice and chips) as I did not have anything to eat since I left Holland the night before.

I needed to go to a job interview just south of London.

I knew I had a potential job interview on my last visit in Northumberland – so on my flight back to Amsterdam, I took my suit with me – by wearing it because the UK has tight limits on hand luggage and that include no floppy suits. I didn’t want to put it in the hold luggage as I know airport handlers like to play football with them (I probably would in that job).

So, all set, flew to Holland, live life, work the work, and et voila, the date has been set for an interview! All I needed to do was fly to London, and get a short train to ThisPlaceSouthofLondon. I still have to wear my suit on the flight, but that made things easier, as I didn’t need to change.

On checking my suit, I noticed it was dirty! There were mysterious marks on it, and it was too late to dry clean it. Bollocks! So, quickly changed my flights to Newcastle for the night before the interview, and picked up my spare suit there and then get a train down to London. Worked out I needed to get the 9am train, and I will have around an hour to spare.

‘Lo and behold, left my house at 7.30am, gridlock on the A1 – a lorry had jack-knifed on an adjacent trunk route, so all traffic piled onto the A1 during rush hour. Decided to park up at a park-and-ride, took the Metro in, and missed my 9am train.

Luckily, the guy at the ticket counter was understanding, and gave me an alternative ticket and then told me I’d have to go via Derby to get to London! Turned out the power lines were down near Kings Cross. Not good.

In a rush, I got onto the next GNER train and a conductor looked at my ticket and said I’m on the wrong train. I was meant to be on the 9.35, not the 9.30 train and I must get off at the next station or I will have to pay £100 for a new ticket. I asked him, “for the sake of 5 minutes?!?”. He nodded, and said if he finds I’m still on the train after the next station, I will have to cough up.

Got off at Darlington, and jumped on the next GNER train in, and then realised that my new tickets was for a Virgin Train, not GNER as I originally booked. So I got off at York, caught a Virgin Train to Derby, or so I thought.

The conductor there told me it stops at Sheffield because of some problems I couldn’t hear, and needed to get another train to Derby. By this stage, I was starting to wonder if it could possibly get any worse.

I eventually managed to get to Derby, and saw my connecting Midland Mainline train departing the station as we rolled in. Why don’t someone synchronise these trains?!

I eventually arrived in London St. Pancras 1:45hrs overdue for my interview. I caught the tube (luckily I still had an oyster card, or I’d be standing in a long line of ticket buyers at Kings Cross), got to Waterloo (never been there before) and spent ages trying to find a ticket machine for my connection train, missed my connection – the doors were closing as I reached it.

I eventually arrived at the office for my interview 2.5hrs late.

…And the problems didn’t stop there…