Disaster! (Short term one)

As you all know, this sabbatical and extended leave has been in the planning for a long time now. Last minute packing aside (which for the benefit of the doubting Thomas’s out there went swimmingly) everything seemed to be on course for an inauspicious start.. Little was I aware that fate was about to play its hand.

Ever the dutiful son, brother and husband, I had carefully arranged and booked my family’s tickets and visas a long time ago. I had thought that everything was taken care of when a classic lesson of Not Taking Things For Granted was taught to old Mr.C (yes, I will turn 30 by the time I’m back). What I had of course forgotten to do was to check that I had a visa! Not a normal oversight you understand. Having been to Bangladesh about 5 times in the last 10 years, what I had forgotten was that I renewed my passport since the last visit so would also have to renew the visa. Duh!

In normal circumstances this is not such a big deal. You get to the other side and cough up $50 and Bob’s your uncle. However I had the misfortune, for the second time this week, to be on the wrong end of Small Man Syndrome. Nothing pleases uniformed petty officialdom than a minor clerical infraction. Not withstanding fear of liable, lets for arguments sake call him Prittesh Bhatt.

Now, I admit that I should have had a visa, but despite airlines having a process for making passengers indemnify them against the cost of the consequences of transporting passengers without valid documentation, this short man refused to let me on. I was fully prepared to burn plastic and sign anything that would cover the £2k that they would have been fined had I been arrested, incarcerated and sent back from Dhaka in shame in an orange jump suit, but no, this jumped up so and so smiled profusely and said he could do no more. He did however suggest that if I had an old passport with a similar visa, he could let me on, knowing fully well that there was no time to get this to him.

So we switch to sympathy. Surely any man would wilt at the thought of a ‘groom’ missing out on a ‘wedding’ function that loads of relatives around the world would be coming to – many on his own airline. Suffice it to say, it did not work and I had to be resigned to letting a now tearful Mrs C go on her own. (please comment on her blog to cheer her up)

Plan B was to get my old passport (with required visa) to Heathrow (I was at Gatwick), satisfy the staff there that I was kosher (so to speak), sign the indemnity and get a stand-by ticket. All of this actually did happen as the Heathrow staff were much more helpful, and I was left ‘hoping’ to benefit from some unknown passengers’ misfortune so I could be allocated their ticket. But they don’t call it the busy season for nothing – and there were no spare seats to be had.

The silver lining in this tale of woe, is that at least I managed to feign complete desperation at missing my ‘wedding’ long enough for a nice lady to ‘confirm’ new flights for tomorrow. But I won’t be Taking Things For Granted until I’m sitting on that plane from Gatwick. If I blog again tomorrow, you’ll know things really have gone skew-whiff.

Well I need some sleep – I’m cream crackered. Until the next time when Inshallah I will tell you of my adventures in the twighlight zone of Bangladeshi immigration. I shall have readies at the ready!

Any way, everything happens for a reason – you just don’t always know why.

Bleak House

Now that Mrs C Snr, Little Ms C and Nana C (I’ll think up some better pseudonyms later) have blazed a trail to Bangladesh, the house feels a little quiet without them. Apart from the reverberations from a hacking cough that has kept Teacher C from her east-end midgets for nearly a week now, it is eerily silent. You begin to miss Nana C’s outbursts and exclamations on the news events of the day (usually misunderstood, inappropriate and non-PC). Anyway they’ve got there safely and at least Mrs C will have the kitchen to herself and can’t complain if someone throws away the gravy stock thinking its dirty water! Too many cooks and all that…

Which reminds me – it’s been one year since we got married! Or has it. Well it depends what you count as marriage and the calendar you choose to follow (handy flexibility to get me out of a scrape in case I forget – which will happen one of these days). A brief explanation for the uninitiated is in order here.

The Islamic calendar (known as Hijri translated as emigration) has at its starting date the year in which the prophet Muhammad (pbuh) migrated from Makkah to Madinah to flee persecution. This was according the standard Gregorian calendar in approximately July 622. It was introduced by Umar bin Khattab (the second caliph) as the agreed seminal turning point for the nascent Islamic community. After the emigration to Madinah (formerly known as Yathrib), the Muslims were able to organize and establish the first real Muslim "community," with social, political, and economic independence. Life in Madinah allowed the Muslim community to mature and strengthen, and the people developed an entire society based on Islamic principles. In addition to that Islamic months are based on lunar cycles (i.e. 28/29 days) or rather the sighting of the crescent moon which means that the months seem to move forward against the standard Gregorian calendar. This is why Ramadan creeps forward by about 10 days each year. Everyone keeping up so far?

So I have a number of permutations to go by. These are;

1. Islamic Marriage and Islamic Calendar,
2. Islamic Marriage and Gregorian Calendar,
3. Civil Marriage and Islamic Calendar, and
4. Civil Marriage and Gregorian Calendar.

Any suggestions which ones to go for?

So the date on which we got married was Sunday 19th December 2004 or according to the Hijri date 7 Dhul Q’ada 1425. According to calendar conversion software, 7 Dhul Q’ada 1426 was on the 8 December 2005! Yikes! – that was yesterday. I may be in some trouble. The house may become even more bleak. But then again19 December 2006 is in 10 days time. I could be reprieved (ever the optimist :))

Which brings me to another question. What is a good paper-based first anniversary present? Feel free to comment.

Oh and as no one in the world answered the question correctly, and I’m sure you’re all dying to know, the mountain in Wales is Blorange.

Sporange

More about the title word later. Plans and packing are ongoing at C household for the trip to Bangladesh. This is phase 1 of the ramble. Ostensibly we are going to visit those who were not able to come to the summer functions of our marriage. As Mrs C and I have a large extended family (note understated tone) we have decided to invite them all round for two large gatherings (in Dhaka and Syhlet) so we don’t get exhausted and bloated my eating hundreds of sumptuous dinners. This is not to be mistaken for wedding party 4 and 5 (or was it 5 and 6 – I’m losing count!).

Anyway 3 Cs will be departing tomorrow together with about 50 bags. There’s too much drama in packing – I’d prefer to leave everything to the last minute. It’s amazing to know what you can live without – and if it’s important enough you can always buy it out there.

Back to Sporange. Occasionally busy office life is interspersed with random deep and meaningful conversations about the meaning of life and where are we all going and all that. Yesterday’s question was – is there a word that rhymes with orange? After much consternation, Mr T (my indispensable colleague) claimed that he had invented a word – sporange – to represent the cow-lick/matted feel to hair you get after wearing a baseball cap or construction hard hat for a long time. He has even sent emissaries to the far corners of Bicester to spread the message. Sadly for him, a simple question to the modern day Oracle of Delphi – Google – revealed that it is in fact a French word for a type of spore or fungus. Nice try Mr T. As for the answer to the question – there is a name of a Welsh mountain. Answers on the comments please.

More serious stuff next time.

And so it begins....

Assalamu alaikum,

Following a well trodden path into the blogging world, I can legitimately be called a johnny-come-lately to the slightly barmy realm of the 'blogosphere'. So why do I feel the need? Surely a well adjusted man doesn't need to open up his private thoughts to the universe (well those who accidently come across this and a handful of others duly invited).

Why 'ramblesofmrc'? Well its a double edged of sword (or two birds with one of stone - which ever you prefer). As we set off on our travels (rambles) over the coming months I may decide to diarise my thoughts (rambles) on the issues or events of the day. Clever eh? It also lets any one who cares to know what I'm up to by forgoing a positive obligation to keep in touch. However I may end up of joining the circa tens of thousands of abondoned blogs started with good intentions - we'll see.

The e-world of Mr C will gradually unfold in the yet to be written pages. I give you no guarantees of either entertainment or amusement - although you may become more informed - join me if you wish.



'The mere physicist is like an ant who, crawling on a sheet of paper and observing black letters spreading over it, should refer the Cause to the pen alone.'