Recently I applied for a new passport. Since I have travelled almost from birth, I am calculating that I must have missed a year at some point because I seem to have applied for passports at 41 and 51 years old, so must have done 21, and 31 too but don't remember those as well! Although I can remember the studio portraits we had taken when I was 11. And I seem to remember I was very grumpy in my 31 year-old photo because there was a strike at the passport office and I was in a hurry to visit a boyfriend in Mallorca!
The problem always arises with the photo, doesnt it? There are very stringent rules about the photo - not too near, not too far, not too big, not too small, no glare from your glasses, no smile at least not with teeth, no one else in the photo with you (!), no hats - and on it goes. Immediately the rebel in me emerges, but anyway I suppress it and endure the three minutes in the booth and come out with something which will serve for ID purposes only, which is a shame, as my photo when I was 41 was, well - no other word for it - gorgeous!
Here is a poem by Maya Angelou called Phenomenal Woman, which is worth reminding ourselves about occasionally and is today's shared thought and inspiration:
