The Wanderings and Ramblings of a Middle Aged Man

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Now you have the estimated delivery time and a gps map showing you where the driver is. They usually call you when they arrive at your door.

Many countries and international university may require Americans to get what is called an Apostille or Authentication of their Diplomas and other documents. If you are applying for a university abroad, a job internationally, etc. What does this mean exactly? Now, they want your state and federal government to also attest to their validity.

Obviously, such a process is long and costly in terms of time and money. Sometimes — not all countries actually follow that rule, and it kind of depends on your state. But regardless, you always have to start with this step — get the State Department to sign off on your document to prove it is legit. Below are links to the websites for each state where you can order document authentications and apostilles!

Rambling About Rambling

But, I had an entirely different, and slightly odd, reason for taking a trip to this landmark. There are no roads to connect the two, and in order to reach one from the other, you have to drive back to the mainland. And it's famous for one thing. For the first time since , an Amorphophallus titanum , also known as the corpse flower, bloomed at the NY Botanical Garden. Find out how Google Maps can help you let your hair down while staying true to your proactive organized self. When I decided to visit one new place a month, Pittsburgh was exactly what I hoped for.

When I used to picture New Orleans, I imagined trails of hot, sweaty bachelor and bachelorette parties crowded together with to-go cups, little clothing, the roaring sound of their voices blurring together as they stumbled through unidentifiable puddles and drifted like a haze in the humidity. Where the road crosses the autoroute was where they had set up their barricades of tyres and torched the lot; neither gendarme nor Rent-A-Thug in sight, and off on another circuit of advenrure and discovery.

Eventually I found a road that ran parallel to the autoroute — albeit not very far from where I had left it so many hours age — and no delays. Nothing to go amiss, even able to stop for coffee at the usual half-way stop. Looking at a clock the thought tcrossed my mind that if this was half-time as well as half-way it would be a journey and a half. Why did I mock Cassandra and Jeremiah ibid ; they certainly had the last laugh — or is it really that broken mirror?

Approaching Rennes there were similar, bland roadside messages… And the nightmare returned.


It barely called for a rendition o fthe Hare Krishna Mantra — and definitely none of the attendant rituals. Travellers need to be hardy, flexible, guided by a spirit of adventure — it would even have been nice… in daylight, in the warmth. What had given me warmth, when boarding the ferry — and will have a certain Book-End drooling fit to be the other if it was Series 2A LandRovers:. The slightly ungracious lad with the torch at the blazing barricade did not compare favourable with the Nepali chap I once met in similar circumstances.

In convoy, being driven from Kathmandu to The Friendship Bridge between Nepal and The Tibet Autonomous Region — as the Chinese call it there was an identical situation in terms of youny men wearing masks, burning tyres, red flags fluttering in the breeze, long traffic queue etc. The cause of the Nepali unrest was that a couple of children had been killled a day or so previously by a speeding lorry and the villagers had impounded the vehicle until reparations were made. Even demonstrations were more polite in the old days, and as for nostalgia. Zut… and any other mild French expressions of dismay.

She has joined the rowing group of which John is a member, he has been blackballed from Le Pisse-Meme. Alchie Annie has a new kitten — Eglantine is dead, long live Cappucine. My grumbling about USian cultural imperialism and the lucky French having a totally different language has been refuted in absolute terms:.

Not only has Donald The Trump spread his nasty little tentacles beyond Anglophonia but he has managed to expand it! A whole week of sales for non-existent and spurious to the rest of the world reasons. At least he has reassured me that there is no such thing as global warming — despite his scientific advisors stating that it will cause the four horsemen of the apocalypse to be pensioned off in favour of greater mayhem in the near future. I had left little spare time to get there for kick-off and thus arrived just after the whistle.

To my joy there was a team in white; to my dismay it was a French league game. Fortunately the nice man watching was only killing time and so Christian was happy enough to change channels; phew.

England would have b een hard-pressed without my support, albeit from afar. As the demonstrators had a big pile of pallets I think they may be in for the duration.

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Old clever clogs will take an alternative route back. Hence on certain days it is the pub from hell, full of baying, yelling sports followers either celebrating, drowning their sorrows or tanking up in expectation.

The Rambling Guitarist Original Trailer (Buichi Saito, 1959)

Having spent a second, consecutive day at WVM I realised that I had left leaving too late to avoid the rush hour; oh that that was the only problem. I was aware that Engerland were playing the USA at football and at Wembley, and that Monkey Boy Rooney, W had been recalled for a farewell moment, but with my unerring ability to miss the finer point I had not realised that I would be travelling on the same route as a great part of the converging spectators. It may be good for my soul but it does little for my blood pressure.

At least this time there were lots of youngsters being taken to the match and so not so much rowdiness with which to contend — or confront! On the previous occasion I relied on white hair to rescue me as I admonished a youth for trying to break escalator-side furniture; fortunately it worked. Having met TOO and Hugues for lunch on Friday I was making my way back to base, in the mid-afternoon, on a quiet and under-used oxo when a schoolclass from The Underworld crowded on.

It is something that I have noticed with the garrnering of commonly accepted signs of ageing , different cultures treat us differently. Often people from Asia will offer their seats to me or at least give precedence. On this occasion a junior-school boy swung into the seat between me and his friend, his backpack swinging within inches of my face. One of the teachers quietly pointed out what had happened and then apologised to me.

A woman I took to be his carer then asked him what the teacher had said and seemed to resent her little Tarquin being cautioned; I sat silent and held my whisht. Eventually little Tarquin swung about again, this time in front of his carer who witnessed his cavalier disregard for fellow travellers. Arriving at our RV in good time I dandered around for a little while. The growing spirit for the MidWinter ConsmerFest is spreading. Albert, Prince Consort, may have been dead for way over a century but his little ways carry on. It is bad enough when the south of England is paralyzed by actual inclement weather to the locals, to people from real roughty-toughty areas it is trifling but add the faux snow and this sign at the local station.

Apart from the wheels being made of steel are we using USian, with flats for punctures? It will cause an absolute outrage which is not USian with a speech defect for a power cut! It was almost a shame to have bothered with my free to frequent sailors cabin. All blacks finishes after our ETA; to quote Capt. Despite the dearth of passengers the queue at disembarkation was slow-moving — a sign of things to come post-Brexit?

The ramblings of a wanderer, the wonderings of a rambler

Both customs men seemed to be checking every passenger with a zeal not normally associated their role. From the day of not very on top of things I still managed to get to The Three Tuns in the evening to watch TOMA; it was a suitably turgid game to match my one bottle of sparkling water eked out to last the full match and half time. At least the team has qualified for the next stage of the competition. Klim, the mother of my old British-born of Polish parents mate, Andrzje, and her inability to differentiate The Aldwych from the Old Vic I came across another amusing moment.

Sharing the front seat was a heavily-accented Turkish man who was travelling to Turkey; the bus had a final destination of Totnes, Devon rather than Istanbul — and a driving time suggesting we were not going anywhere via Dover. It was a terrible, dark and stormy night, so the first mate, rather than being asked to tell a story, offered to collect from the bus stop; an offer that was gratefully received.

Student Ramblings

Hence I investigated the fleshpots and sinks of Newton Abbot — which did not take too long — before finding a convenient, indeed the only, pub that was showing England playing the All Blacks. With her recovering from a stomach upset and me still feeling a tad jaded, on Sunday we just went for a wander along the beach at Slapton Sands — an area steeped in World War history. Afficionados of militaria will recognise this Sherman tank. The sea off Slapton Sands apparently resembles that of Utah Beach in the Normandy landings of and so was chosen for rehearsals.

During the penultimate rehearsal the proceedings were interrupted by a sea-borne attack and lead to large-scale death and destruction. The tank was subsequently recovered and placed overlooking the beach as a memorial. As we visited on the Centenary of the Armistice to end The Great War it was appropriate that the front was decorated with many wreathes and poppies. Devon busses accept Wrinkly Roamer tickets and there was one it is only a two-hourly service which arrived at the Big Bus stop with only a twenty minute wait. Again I manged to occupy the tourist seat but was blessed with it to myself this time.

Apparently British Airports Authority charge the bus companies, hence the higher fares attracted by embussing or debussing from the closest stop to BSB — and cunning wee devils who book to the centre of town get caught out if they have hold baggage. Pensioner wrings total value for every last penny shock horror continued throughout Tuesday.

The Wanderings and Ramblings of a Middle Aged Man

The Wanderings and Ramblings of a Middle Aged Man [Wally 'Gator' Ford] on *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. Hello Poetry Fans, I was born in Augusta, Georgia, on November 7, I am a Scorpio, and they say we are the romantics. I was raised an only child by my.

Hanif, with whom I worked some considerable while ago, was overseeing the progress on his doctoral thesis at a university local to BSB and, as is often the case, suggested an RV — and he insisted on buying lunch! British public transport reverted to true form — the journey back became a marathon trial by endurance.