Passport photos and the disappearance of my principles...

I need to renew my passport.  What could be simpler, I hear those of you who live in the UK ask.  Well, many things.  Many, many, many things.  Like...  pushing a camel through the eye of a needle.  Finding your way through the Moscow metro system first time as a new arrival.  Getting your kids to proactively pack their school bags in the morning.  You know the sort of stuff I mean.

But renewing your passport as a British citizen from within Russia?  Not simple at. All.

And it's not about the forms, the supporting documentation, the references, or the amount of time the system takes. (Although...  No.  I'm not going there.  Not yet, anyway).  No, the main roadblock to getting a British passport renewed whilst you're living in Russia?  The ruddy photographs, to the point that when I next get back to the UK I will just get a whole load taken and put them away until needed.

Husband assured me it would be no big deal.  He would take me to a friendly photo shop he knew, he said.  Somewhere he always goes for his visa photos etc, he said.  Somewhere they are really helpful, he said.

This is why, on the way to said photo shop, he stopped the car, pointed at a random building at the side of the road, and said "Actually this one's closer.  Let's go here."

Me:  "OK.  Ummm - have you been here before?"

Husband;  "No.  But I'm sure it will be fine."

We walk in.  There is a small unwashed-looking gentleman lounging behind an office desk, surrounded by photographic equipment.  We look at him.  He looks at us.  We all look at each other.

Silence.

Husband (blinking first and losing face in the process):  "We would like some passport photos, please."

Unwashed gentleman.  "What?"

Husband  "Passport photos.  Of my wife.  Can you help us?"

Unwashed gentleman (yet to crack a smile or welcome us into his store), to me:  "Take off your coat, sit there."

I took off my coat, sat there.  He looked at me, critically.

"Tell her to turn to look to the side*."

Me:  "We don't have to do that for British passports.  We just look straight ahead."

"Tell her to push her hair back."

I push my hair back.

"More."

I push it back more.

"No, more!  Behind her ears!  We need to show her ears!"

Me:  "We don't need to show ears in Britain.  We just - oh, for pete's sake." I push my hair back behind my ears.

"Tell her to push her fringe off her forehead."

Me to Husband.  "We don't have to do that in - Can you just tell him to take the frigging photograph?"

Husband laughs.  "Don't get stressed.  Why are you stressed?"

Me:  "Because he's being so rude!  Why is that necessary?  I just want a passport photo...my fringe is fine..."  I give up and push my fringe to the side.

He takes the photo.  One photo.  I suppose it would be a waste to press that finger on the button twice.  He looks at the photo on the camera and sighs heavily.  I am clearly not Russia's Next Top Model.  Glumly, he downloads it to the computer.

He then starts messing about with the cursor.

Me:  "What are you doing?"  No answer.  "Husband, what is he doing?"

Husband, barely holding in the mirth.  "Photoshopping your hair, darling.  Apparently it needs work..."

Me:  "He's what?"

Husband, smirking:  "Calm down.  We're in Russia. It's what they do."

Me:  "Well, it's not what they do in England.  We just use the photos of us, as we are.  And if he starts to mess about with my face I'll never get the passport."

Silence, whilst unwashed gentleman - who has ignored me throughout - begins to adjust the photos to the correct size.  I consider my options, then turn to Husband.  "But, since we are in Russia, maybe you could ask him to tighten my jawline whilst he's at it?"**



*Many countries require a slight turn to the head so that they can see half profiles in passports.

**OK.  I didn't ask him to do that.  But god, the temptation...