A young woman opened the door and entered the waiting room, she then spoke to Policeman through his intercom. He pointed over to myself and HMRC lady. My eyebrows shot up in acknowledgement, she approached us. At last someone who could speak English. She explained we would have to sit here for another five minutes in order to be seen, and then she would come with us and interpret. This seemed pretty quick to me considering the last Police station it was going to take an hour just to be seen. Five minutes passed, ten minutes passed and another middle aged woman popped her head around the door. She looked at us, pointed a pen she held in her hand and spoke Polish. We shook our heads like idiots in unison and feebly asked "Do you speak English?" No reply. She stomped off. Great back to square one again, where's the nice admin girl who spoke pretty good English. A few more minutes passed and said young lady turned up again. She led us through the security door, advising us as we followed what was about to happen. They didn't need my DNA, saliva, piece of hair, to blow in a bag or to be beaten with a truncheon, thank god. We were about to be interviewed by someone and then we'd have a report written out. Of course everything would be in Polish. Well naturally it would be. Up two flights of steep concrete stairs, the décor was uniform yellow paint. I guess it must help in the interrogation process when prisoners are led away. Blinded by the blandness of style in an old building. Miss Admin pushed open a heavy old door, there sitting at the table was the pissed off Polish lady who'd pen pointed us earlier.
We had in mind just one objective, which was unfortunate. For when you have one objective it is easy to forget about details, those little things which are important. Not knowing the language probably worked in our favour. So it was, HMRC lady did a great job of describing what had happened; my camera had been lost or stolen but we didn't know what it was. HMRC described the walk from restaurant to bar or was it bar to restaurant and the alleged process of finding I'd lost my camera. To tell the truth I didn't feel of much use in the entire matter, on account of not being sure of how the thing had got lost and how it had really got lost in a different town. Not this one. Would they see through these untruths. HMRC got stuck on a point and looked at me. Oh shite, what did she expect me to say? We didn't get our story and facts sorted before we sat in this place. Hell I didn't want to contradict what HMRC said and I had a dose of rabbit in the headlights come over. Were we put into separate rooms, the statements would of been a little bit different to say the least. Hell, in situations like this some people break down. Fortunately Sparkling Eyes, (the love of my life) wasn't here she'd of had an anxiety attack walking up the stairs and I'd of been put in a cell for every armed robbery since Christmas, even though I was never in the country, all for the sake of a bloody lost camera. I replied in a confused and agreeable fashion to HMRC woman and reached for my passport. The magical document which opens doors, or could close them in some cases. It was handed over as part of the process for writing the report. The dour faced interrigatoress concentrated writing on her laptop. It was a Lenovo brand, and I noticed the fingerprint reader on it for security. My details had now been entered into the Polish Police database. It seemed like ages we were in this room but it didn't take too long for the report to be written out. All the time seemed to be taken up by the interpretation process. It came out of the printer and we were advised a senior officer had to sign it off then I'd get my copy. God, not another delay. As it turned out there was no delay at all, an unknown face behind another heavy door immediately dispatched it.
Miss Admin kindly escorted us out of the building, down the stairs through the secure door and off we went. Sparkling looked at us and said it took an awfully long time. She and L & B man didn't know what had happened to us. She'd even looked in the waiting room but we were gone. She said this with a chuckle and we got a cup of coffee for our troubles. What a relief it was all over for now.
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