Alas, things don’t always turn out the way we expect...

My view is over Kensington Olympia, and I am very comfortably installed in my godmother Giulietta’s lovely flat, so I am not complaining. Well, I am, but only about my own stupidity. I am the author of my own misfortune here: I arrived on Tuesday morning at 5 am at Algiers airport and duly presented my passport at the frontier police. “Where is your visa?” inquired the official. “What visa?” I replied. “I am Swedish, surely we don’t need visas here?” “Oh yes you do. And if you don’t have one you will be put straight back on the plane to Bamako again”, came the disconcerting response.  I now realized it was serious and I called Carin, the ambassador. She said she would do what she could, pulling whatever ambassadorial strings that she was able to pull. And she did- but it was too late. By the time the laissez-passer arrived from the central immigration authority I had already been bundled onto the flight to London, since I had an onward ticket with that destination- only not until the 22^nd of April!