Pernickity photo rules
I should be in bed right now. I really should. At the unearthly hour of eight I must stumble from my little haven of heat and sleepiness and dreams of river-hopping and guilt incarnate, and crawl down to the photo shop in town to have a passport photo of me looking bleary taken.
Apparently, the officials must soothe their worried selves and make sure I am not a terrorist. Or an illegal person smuggling illegal things. What better way than to issue a standard passport photo size? 35mm by 45mm. Fair enough, you say. But the face itself must also be a certain measurement, you gasp? Between 32mm and 36mm from chin to hairline. Or else what? Sorry, no passport for you, your face measures 38mm from top to bottom.
No tilting of the head. No smiling, let alone grinning. No hair in the face. Think what difference a few strands of rogue hair before the right eye would make. Think how much you could hide, within that one eye. A whole different personality, a whole other, non-benevolent self.
(Especially no photos accepted where the candidate has a budgie perched atop her head.)
There are two whole sides of A4 instructions on what your passport photo should and shouldn't be. Is it just me who finds this unreasonable and pernickity? Possibly.
That load off my mind, I must now attempt to sleep whilst trying to ignore my parents' noisy garden party. You think a middle aged group would obey the rules of middle-aged-ness and be practically silent, but no, these are very noisy middle-aged people, discussing love handles, of all things, and shrieking with tipsy laughter.
Apparently, the officials must soothe their worried selves and make sure I am not a terrorist. Or an illegal person smuggling illegal things. What better way than to issue a standard passport photo size? 35mm by 45mm. Fair enough, you say. But the face itself must also be a certain measurement, you gasp? Between 32mm and 36mm from chin to hairline. Or else what? Sorry, no passport for you, your face measures 38mm from top to bottom.
No tilting of the head. No smiling, let alone grinning. No hair in the face. Think what difference a few strands of rogue hair before the right eye would make. Think how much you could hide, within that one eye. A whole different personality, a whole other, non-benevolent self.
(Especially no photos accepted where the candidate has a budgie perched atop her head.)
There are two whole sides of A4 instructions on what your passport photo should and shouldn't be. Is it just me who finds this unreasonable and pernickity? Possibly.
That load off my mind, I must now attempt to sleep whilst trying to ignore my parents' noisy garden party. You think a middle aged group would obey the rules of middle-aged-ness and be practically silent, but no, these are very noisy middle-aged people, discussing love handles, of all things, and shrieking with tipsy laughter.
kiwiqueen - 20. Jul, 23:51