It is approaching the season of goodwill. It is also the time of year my wife and I have to make our anual pilgrimage to Immigration to extend my visa.
The season of bearing gifts, as the Magi did in that well known story. The modern magi, let us not be too racist, were (note were) men and ladies, dishevelled lawyers from a large country near by, or indeed Thai, the latter distinguished by smart dress and good manners. These magi visits i have observed over many years at our annual pilgimage . They bring gifts with the piles of passports , they walk in and place these on the desk of certain recipients. Many gifts, I observed while waiting hours to have my chance to be part of the adoration.

Hours because of six booths only two were open to us humble shepherds, the rest occupied with the magi. No matter, it was but once a year and the travel to be part of the ritual was spiritully cleansing. Knowing I was but nothing. The "Don't you know who I am?" put in its place.
"We know who you are and you are beholden to us,".

An early start to the ritual , as it could be a long day of prayer, devotion. There were lunch breaks too, as time can be indeterminant. Always a good supply of food and goodies , a day out , the wife likes the visit, buying delicacies to take home to her family. This year, as I no longer drive, father offered to take us. Truth is mother wanted to share the pleasures of the big shop of delights. We declined the kind offer.
Mother did call my wife yesterday, whilst at the devotion, with some special requests of tasty treats , which were bought, as after all it is the season of bearing gifts.
I had read in the BP that there had been a change at the top of immigration. That usually means very little will change.

Babushka and her broom has been recruited to clean the department.

Five booths open to the humble peasants. Lawyers told to take a queue ticket and wait their turn , they were not bearing gifts.


Two of our previous visits stand out. The lottery of the ticket, as to which officer to humble yourself to; I knew them all, twenty years is a long time.
Two years ago we were blessed to be in the presence of a pleasant elderly fellow, retired now I suspect. As usual the rules for the paper work had been tweeked. One photograph, a requirement, of the house number plate was incorrect, the number of our house, the number, not the house had changed. We would need to get a new sign outside, but could e mail the photo of it to him.
Apart from that, all was fine.
Went to Homepro, new sign, same day, photo sent.

Now I am of a nervous disposition, as many are aware, I worry. Told wife we must go to visit next day, with photograph, just in case. We did not get a ticket, just stood outside his booth and indicated the photograph, hard copy. He smiled and spoke kindly and showed us the photo copy he had received on his desk, but thanked us for our dedication.

Last year, oh last year, the dragon. Now in my naievety many, many years ago, I first met her. She said I stank of alcohol. Rubbish I replied, I had just had lunch and one small bottle of beer with it. God's truth, I am no fool. Disdained look and I saw mental note, he asked for it, now I have him!.
Hours spent waiting as she was too busy to deal with my request, a work permit. Yes I had the company lawyer with me, but......

Last year, oh no the dragon, I won the dragon on the lottery.
She is now retired too.

It is well known that dragons have long memories, she remembered. That look, got you again, relishing it, gentle wafts of smoke, no fire, cool .
Searching for a missing paper, an i not dotted, anything. Alas, to no avail, I had photo copies of papers not required, a brief case full of twenty years of documents, she tried in vain.


Failing with me a little flame escaped and the dragon turned on my wife. She knew my wife could not read, and that obviously we had met each other at sunday school. Her eyes gleamed, a got you gleam.
"Fill in this guarantor letter,".

Wife told her, that which she knew, that she could not read, could she help her.

"Too busy, take it outside, find some help, come back when it is complete, ".
We were pointed out by her gleaming eyes.

Being of a nervous disposition, it would be of no surprise to the medical profession, that the days before the annual pilgrimage I become depressed. It is part of the cycle. Depression and arthritis seizes its chance to cripple me. No different this year. Yesterday I needed my walking stick.
Today , I do not, swelling down overnight, such are miracles.

Thanksgiving day at immigration.
Five booths open, short wait.
Polite well turned out lady greeted us. Each paper requested courteously. I offered others, not required, you have all the correct documents.
Guarantor letter, wife confessed , her, yearly penance for the sins of her past.

"No problem, I will help you,".

I nearly fainted on the spot.

Wife told to keep the original documents out of the brief case as a new requirement was , here we go I thought, is that originals must be endorsed by the senior officer, a guard against fakes.
Second spasm of dizziness.

"All done, take these to the senior officer, return on the twenty second.

Wai, big wai by me.

Senior officer, polite, well turned out, pleasant.

"All in order, return on twenty second.
Wai, smile.

I will still get depressed on the twenty first, but know I should not.

Change can happen.