Those of you following me on the Twitmeister will be well aware that Air France lost my luggage between Marseille airport and Paris. I still don’t have it, but am enjoying the extravagance of wearing brand new jocks every day.

Although it can very often backfire. I’m referring, of course, to the process one goes through buying just the odd item, here and there, hoping to God that the bag will arrive on that day – which it never does.

I bought a three-quarter pant in the South of France, which was all very well. Then, on the first day in Paris, I bought some light blue ninja shoes, as well as a pink T-shirt to wear the next day. Temperatures soared (like an eagle) to the mid-thirties, and I had to switch my long sleeve (very cool) shirt I wore on the plane, for the pink T-shirt – unwittingly turning my entire body into some kind of gay symbol.

Behold:

Why?

Did I mention I also don’t have a passport? Oh ja! Big Time! Remember we chatted (here) about the effing transit visa that I had to get to re-enter the UK (possibly for the last time in my life at this rate) for my flight home? That visa I needed to land at Gatwick, switch to Heathrow and then fly to Cape Town?

Ja, that one.

I still don’t have it.

No clothes and no passport.

Quite a vibe.

Honestly, with all due respect to Liz, I’d far rather do some deal with those human trafficking services than the pain and suffering at the hands of Her Majesty.

So ja, just wanted to let you know about that.

Chat later, God willing.

[apologies for any spelling errors and potential lack of posts today – I am in a slight rush and heading to the visa vibe right now and have no idea what the day has in store..]