Wednesday evening, Linda Thompson singing away in my discman. Had another typical Irish experience today. Before I can look for a job in Ireland I need a Personal Public Service number (the famous PPS as they call it here). Made several phone calls last week, to find out where I had to go to get it. And what kind of documents I needed to bring. Today with Bill towards Cork City. Queued more than an hour at the Social Welfare Office. Felt strange, me sitting between all those East-European immigrants. Realized what it really means to be a stranger in a foreign country. It turned out that I was at the wrong office anyway (or what did you expected?). Needed to go to the local office in….Mallow indeed. Spend the whole afternoon queuing for nothing. Second attempt to get my number tomorrow. Irish efficiency they call it.
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