I always thought my aversion to work and lack of desire for a normal job would make me a good candidate for living a life of crime. Only the sexy kind though, maybe some drug dealing or a little bit of fraud. I could imagine myself similar to the main female character of a Martina Cole novel. If you get that reference – yay, I like you, let's start a book club. If not; basically if you've read one of her books, you've read them all, but they generally follow the life of some tough, tragic, beautiful woman, involved in a family that runs a certain criminal racket in the gritty London underworld. She is almost always married to an arsehole.
Anyway, I think I broke the law today. Maybe an exaggeration, but I should probably take note that paranoia and anxiety does not a good criminal make. I definitely broke some rules, and if I get in trubs I will not hesitate to throw my boyfriend so hard under the bus.
So the backstory is this. Stay with me. Someone that my BF works with accidentally packed his passport in his bag, and took it home with him, which is a city away from where we live. I'm not sure how one does this by accident, but some of his colleagues are a special breed of idiot. Fast forward a fortnight, to a few days ago, when BF gets the word that he will be travelling to France with work. The nature of the job is that it's super last minute, never know where they are going, super annoying to me, but that's just the way it is. His passport is still with this guy, but we need it like, yesterday. We tried to get a hold of this arsehole all day, his phone was off, we don't know where he lives. BF doesn't have his passport, but can't afford to not go to this job. BF ends up being smuggled into France in the back of the work van. Serious lax border control on their side, but people aren't really fleeing the UK to France.
Which brings us to the problem that while getting into France might've been a piece of piss, British border control is pretty on it. I did say 'What're they going to do? Deport you?'. We laughed, we were drunk; but now he's in France, he's decided he wants his passport to get back into Britain. Cue me, the accomplice to this faux immigrant nightmare scenario.
Today I have had to make a 50 mile round trip to pick up his passport, in a ticking time bomb of an AC-less car (it broke down recently and I haven't got around to buying the necessary parts it needs to make it good again) in a fucking heatwave. I had to drive to a city that is such a nightmare to drive around I practically get PTSD just thinking about it. And I have driven in London. I get back to town, pick up some packaging from the post office and the things to make a decoy parcel. Cos right, I can't just put a passport in an envelope and stick in the post. That just, to me, looks like I've stolen a passport and I'm trying to send it to someone who has illegally purchased one. Documents like that are definitely in the list of prohibited items to send abroad by courier. Paranoia sets in. I buy a birthday card and use a gift voucher I got at Christmas to buy a book. I'll make it look like a birthday pressie. The book is one I wanna read though, so it better come back to me.
Once home, I packaged everything up, and spend a ridiculous amount of money on a courier to get this shit to France ASAP. He's coming back on Saturday, so it's only a small window to work with. One thing that annoyed me today is that I'm a grown ass women and I don't have a printer. Because of this, I had to go back to town, print off the courier label and get it to the courier drop-off-pickup place. It is out of my hands now. That whole process took like 5 hours. I know right, best GF ever.
Anyway, if this comes back to me (cos they've got my name, my address, my everything) I have my story ready. And I'm a firm believer in that if you think of a bonkers scenario happening to you, it probably won't happen to you. My BF (Mr-horizontal-chilled-out-bead-wearing-fucker) obviously thinks it's fine. I know it will too, but, I also always kinda think the worst will happen. Always have. That's just the way my brain works. I'm really good at puzzles and problem solving, but worries will no doubt drive me out to the woods one day to live the rest of my life as a crazy tin-foil-hat-off-grid recluse.
Be reet though (Yorkshire saying). This confession has meant nothing...
(Proper hard me.. jk I like selfies n filters)
