You'd think going home to your native country would be easy - they would welcome you back with open arms but apparently it's not that simple. Firstly I have prove that I am who I say I am; my name has changed (more than once), my address has changed (more than once) I no longer have a drivers license, National Insurance Card or utility bill with my name on it. I may as well be Mata Hari! I have to rebuild my identity.
There is one consolation; my apparent sickness of being a serial boot buyer (in Florida) is now in the past. My sixteen pairs of Florida boots, if you are counting, are no longer a dark little secret at the back of my closet. They can be seen, they can be worn, they will be legitimate. Now, if only it were that easy for me.
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