Certified Docs Bloody Nightmare! Sender: Professional Princess

Yes, that's what I said, complete nightmare.

The day started off not too bad apart from feeling knackered.

Phone up the local magistrates court and ask if they do Cert. Copies of documents.

A girl answers with terrible English and speaks in the voice that I hate and detest - Ali G. Nothing against him, love the movie, love him it's just the voice doesnt suit you if you are a girl - no really.

'Well, I is not 'appy 'bout doin' dat' She said rather nervously.

Then after disappearing to talk to someone senior, she tells me I can have it done any day except Tuesday and Wed - 'if I did want'.

Then I phone a couple of others, 'Erm, is that where we copy it and you sign it?' I get told on several occasions.

'No, you copy - look I have full instructions for you' I told them patiently.

'Ah, a Notary' I thought to myself and call him.

'Did you know ONLY a Notary can do Cert. Copies, this man with a difficult accent to comprehend said.

'Well I have a list from my agent saying who can do them' I told him and reeled off the list.

'Well it's wrong and you will find I am the only person around these parts that can do it' He said smugly and then told me it would be a tenner PER COPY at 30 pages and double sets. My arse it will.

Then I find a solicitor on the corner of me and fall in the door with a swollen leg and ankle and a bottom lip like a wash hand basin as I was about to cry.

Having visions of Glen Newton patiently waiting his documents until the year 2010, I was now getting frantic.

'Do you do certified copies?' I ask the receptionist weakly.

Smiling at me in a forced look, she said she does.

Stuffs my precious documents that I have all but given birth to, into their prehistoric photocopier, I cringe as I look at her and pray she doesnt ruin anything.

An hour later, she disappears upstairs and then comes down with them all signed and asks me for 30 pounds.

Paying her, I get home and realise I should have asked for 2 sets - bloody nora, could this day get any worse - Oh yes it could.

Get home and check the documents and they are the biggest pile of poo I have ever seen.

Fading ink, some of the statements shrunk too small when there was no need, poor quality and probably enough bullets for the TRA to say 'Strewth who the hell does this sheila think she is sending in this poo?'

Telling Abdel that I had paid 30 pounds for a pile of poo, he snaps at me 'Go back and demand they do it again'

Telling him in no certain terms that my leg wouldn't go that far and bear in mind the solicitor was there for over an hour, and they wouldnt change their photocopier anyway, he could sod off.

Thinking this was some conspiracy to keep my out of Australia, I telephone dear Rooksie (I am so sorry) and offload my emotions onto her.

'I am going to phone Glen and call the whole thing off' I whimpered to a patient Rooksie on the phone, amongst throwing in other swears and stuff.

'Don't do anything hasty' She soothed. (blushing at the memory Jack)

Phone up my mate who is a vet nurse and ask her who her solicitor is as I had no luck in convincing our local legal eagles that it really is safe to do Cert. Copies without contracting nasty diseases.

One very nice lady feels so sorry for me, she can do both sets for 50 quid.

Looking at my dog, I make her promise not to chew anything whilst I am out with my precious documents.

Two hours later, I emerge clutching them as I would a new puppy and finally get home.

Gordon the cat is sitting by the door; 'Rema has been barking her head off' Gordon tells me.

As I open the door, I find my little whippet has eaten a portion of my sofa and ripped apart the throw that once proudly covered it. The throw I might add, Abdel bought just 3 weeks ago.

Bursting into tears through leg pain, Cert. Copy disease and thoughts of Glen, I crumpled on the sofa looking like a demented ****.

'It wasn't me' The little whippet cried.

Staring at my skinny elderly blind dog, her face covered in blood from her chewing and her gums bleeding, she caught my gaze and cowered to the floor.

She has never liked me crying. I pick her shaking little body up and hold her in my arms whilst I carefully wash the blood from her face and try and do damage limitation for the sofa.

Managing to hide the damaged bits with cushions and stuff, I turn round to see Gordon the cat with my certified copies in his mouth.

'You bastard!' I yell like the mad woman of Borneo.

In a flash of ginger, he ran off and luckily my docs were OK.

Phone up my dog walker and she offers to take Rema for the night and drive me to physio.

'Abdel?' I yell to him on my way out. Hearing him ask 'what?' I reply 'That sofa was poo anyway' as I run out of the door.

AT PHYSIO

'So Sam, how is the ankle? Oh dear' She asked and said all in one breath as she clocks the size of it.

Have some ultrasound and TENS and a mbuttage.

'All this after your first day of Uni?' She asked concerned - I nodded.

'Tell me, why are you retraining?' She asked

'Plan B to Australia in case Plan A for Abdel fails' I reply pathetically.

I was so tired, my speech was slurred and I sounded as though I had jet lag.

'Well, if you want my opinion, to pbutt your medical for Australia, I would give up Uni' She said firmly.

So that was my day, yes it was and Im not lying. And if I don't laugh I will cry.

Now as I am so fond of saying 'Always have a plan B'

Well noone ever told me to have a plan C in case Plan B goes breasts up.

Ive called DHL and have to sort out when they can come and my precious cargo should be in Glen Newtons hot little hands next week.

At least noone can say my life is boring.

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