I went to the police station today to get my residents card. With all the red tape I was expecting to be there all day, I armed myself with a book (Sid Wadell's Beer Bellies & Bullseyes) and expected the worst.
Salem (our driver for the first few days) gave us a lift to immigration and once we were there we were met by Samir (our fixer). We were told to queue jump whenever we could, which with the help of Samir we managed to do quite successfully. Obviously, the sexes were separated, which resulted in Anna getting done way before Mick and I, but we were fingerprinted, photographed and issued our cards within 2 hours - an absolute result. The funniest bit being when Mick was asked if "Theatre Director" was the correct job title - not wanting to upset the apple cart, and wanting to get through the process as quickly as possible, we just agreed that it was correct. I doubt he will get a pay rise to match though.
I am now alowed to live in Oman. Happy days!
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