Grrr!

So with authorisation number in hand I headed down to the big smoke (I understand the streets are paved with gold). The Iranian Embassy is open for business from 12:30 to 4pm.

I was aiming for 12:30 but for a variety of reasons arrived hot and sweaty at the door of the Embassy in Princes Gate at 2pm. Except, according to the notice, it was the wrong door. Consular service is handled up the road in Kensington Court. That's a shame as I could have sent the "just stormed the Iranian Embassy" text to a few appreciative souls.

We (the UK tax payer) station a police officer at the door of the Embassy who pointed me in the right direction and assured me it was only another ten minutes walk, about a quarter mile beyond the Royal Albert Hall -- as if that meant anything to me. I was slightly suspicious as the Embassy is SW7 and the Consular office is W8.

I headed up the road and realised after a while I had quite forgotten the name of the road I was looking for but after some iPhone Google mapping decided on Kensington Court as it sort of fitted the bill. London's lovely one-way streets meant I trudged round for a good ten minutes further before finally spotting the Consular office at number 50.

As I approached a Middle Eastern woman outside threw a headscarf on and launched herself in. I followed to find a queue of about five in front of a reception, I assumed. There was a door through to a waiting area in front of some teller desks. After ten minutes or so the queue had shuffled forward two people's worth and a woman in a red and white outfit was addressed in English and told to come back tomorrow at 8:30am (what!!) for fingerprinting and <mumble>. She explained that she couldn't make it tomorrow and was told to come back any weekday at 8:30am for fingerprinting and <mumble>.

What was <mumble>? I think she had said something about an authorisation number but wasn't sure so had to stand in line whilst more bureaucracy went on in reception. I must write more about this sort of thing one day as, despite its frustration causing, is almost a work of art.

Anyway, I reached the front and announced I had a visa application form and an authorisation number. Ha, a winner!

"You will have to come back tomorrow at 8:30am for fingerprinting and <mumble>."

Bollocks.

<mumble> might have had something to do with certificates but that doesn't sound right and I haven't got any so I won't be best pleased if I make it to the far end of Hyde Park for 8:30am and require some about my person.

So, that's that. I'd best come back tomorrow at 8:30am...*computes*...that'll be a 5am start, then. Top!

After that I trudged the length of Hyde Park again before deciding to try my new Oyster card. "Seek Assistance" Bugger! Who knows what happened but I think I caught a sneaky look at someone else who suffered the same -- clearly machine error. The blokey cancelled the transaction and I was on my way to Stanfords.

Stanfords is map heaven. 'nuf said. Suffice it to say my available cash for the trip has been reduced substantially thanks to them (by several days, depending on what country you're in!). But I'm not unhappy. In fact, I hesitated buying even more maps until I've got a better handle on what countries I'm be visiting. Given that it looks like I'll have to make a personal visit to a consular office in London for each visa I require I might as well buy a map from Stanfords on the way home if I get a good feeling from the visa official.

My only complaint was the Lonely Planet Guides which retail for some frightening amount of money (£15+). I've not taken such books with me before and I've probably missed a few touristy treats as well as my, personally preferred, off the beaten tracks (and well away from tourists) options. I think for this trip I need a guide. A second-hand guide will be fine.