I went by myself over to the Iranian embassy to find out about visas. Before I went in, I dressed in long pants and a long-sleeved sweatshirt. Inside the embassy, a woman clad in a black chador gave me the address of the Iranian High Commission, which is where visas are issued. I made my way over to High Street, Kensington, and found the High Commission, which was very crowded, but luckily there was a foreign window, so I was quickly seen to. The visas are nine pounds and take two to four weeks to issue.
Back at Lucy’s, we packed up, then walked up to Waterloo, where we caught the train to Andover. As the train wound out of London, passing the four chimneys of Battersea Power Station, a grey rain began to fall. An hour and a half later, we were at Andover Station and Lucy’s mother was there to pick us up.
Once we were settled in at the Scott house, a nice little two-storey place, maddeningly clean and tidy, Lucy and I set off for a walk along the country lanes surrounding the village of Upper Clatford. Below the village runs a quiet, glossy river, and the lanes are wooded and narrow. The wind was quite noisy amongst the trees as we walked a circuit which finally led back to the village. We spent a quiet evening with Lucy and her parents.
CurseOfTheTraveller 