ࡱ> 6857 V#bjbjUU `87|7|Vl4, ~      ~ ~ r r  y; r r 0 r r  DO NOT REMOVE YOUR PHOTOS WHILE THE RED LIGHT IS ON A CAUTIONARY TALE Milk, bread, butter, sugar, copy of the Radio Times and photographs. Photographs. Passport photographs. In her clumsy high-heeled shoes, she hurried through the rainy high street clutching her sodden, torn shopping list in her gloved hand. Her other hand carried the bulging carrier bag with the weekly groceries. She only had to get a few more items, milk, bread, butter, sugar and a copy of the Radio Times but she didn't have time. Her passport was due for renewal and she had to get some photos done for it today so she could send off the application first thing tomorrow. There was only a month to go before her holiday in Mauritius and she had to send off soon or she would never get her new passport in time. As usual, she had left it 'til the last moment and she only had time today to get the pictures before her bus left. The other items would have to wait. She stumbled into the bus station and looked around in a panic. Ten minutes to go before her bus left but she had to get her photos done now. There it was. The photo booth. "Four passport standard photographs for only 1.50!!" Bit extortionate. She entered the tiny booth and dumped her shopping outside, as there wasn't enough room for her and it in the cramped interior. She settled herself down on the shiny, slippery, totally inadequate blue plastic seat and drew the flimsy curtain across the booth's opening to obscure her from the nosy gazes of those outside. She looked ahead to see her reflection in the dark glass. She looked terrible, damp and haggard from the day's traumas. Pity. She wanted to look better for her passport photo. But that was a forlorn hope wasn't it? Everybody knew that passport photographs were designed to look awful. It made you want to try again for a better set and of course, that inevitably meant that you spent more money in the damn booths. It was all a racket, everyone knew that. Should be reported to the Trading Standards Council. She sighed and pulled out a hairbrush from the voluminous interior of her expensive handbag. She quickly brushed her hair down to look more presentable. Then she stood awkwardly in the cramped space and took off her raincoat to reveal her wrinkled turquoise blouse underneath. It didn't look much better. Oh well..." she decided, "...wrinkled clothes or not, it must be better than looking like some kind of tramp". The raincoat was discarded on the floor by her feet in a messy heap. She straightened her crumpled clothes and settled herself down again after adjusting the seat to get her eyes set at the specified level. "You look like shit!" she thought as she stared at herself in the tinted glass that covered the camera before her. Trouble was, it had to be done now or she would never get her new passport in time for her holiday. Now or never. Reluctantly, she put the required coinage into the beckoning slot and sat back, trying to look composed. To smile or not to smile? Oh no. She never could tell. Were you allowed to smile these days for passport photos? Unconsciously chewing her lip, she was taken aback when the first flash happened. Bugger. That was one picture screwed up anyway. FLASH!! Damn!! She blinked that time. Only two more photos and she had to get them right. FLASH!! Ha. She had been ready for that one. That probably came out OK. FLASH!! And that one. Well. That was that then. Temporarily blinded, she clambered back into her drenched raincoat, left the booth and picked up her shopping. She had to wait five minutes for her pictures apparently. Five more minutes and she would miss her bus. Typical. She hoped it didn't really take that long. She spent time looking around at the advertising posters pasted on the walls. She re-read the caption on the side of the photo booth. "Four passport standard photographs for only 1.50!!" Hmmm. She then glanced from her watch to the little slot in the side of the booth where her pictures would appear and another caption emblazoned in enormous characters caught her eye, which wasn't difficult. The thing was large enough to be carved into a stone tablet. It was certainly portrayed as if it was one of the Ten Commandments. DO NOT REMOVE YOUR PHOTOS WHILE THE RED LIGHT IS ON Still waiting for her photos to appear behind the little sliding plastic "window", she read the notice again. DO NOT REMOVE YOUR PHOTOS WHILE THE RED LIGHT IS ON She knew why the notice was there. The photos came out of the processing section still wet and, in the past, you tended to get a sticky mess all over your fingers unless you were very careful. Even then you had to wait for the pictures to dry in your hand before you put them away or you would find that the small likenesses had stuck fast to whatever you had in your handbag when you tried to take them out again once you had gotten home. Or the colours had all merged together to form an interesting combination of pigments that some might call modern art. Not at all the sort of thing suitable for an international identity paper though. Nowadays, a dry blower rattled the photos in their little slot until they were supposedly dry enough to remove from the outside of the booth without those old problems occurring. A little red light came on whilst the pictures were being dried. DO NOT REMOVE YOUR PHOTOS WHILE THE RED LIGHT IS ON Oh yes, she knew why the notice was there all right. But she didn't have time to wait. Her bus would be leaving soon and besides, she had to get home and watch Neighbours. And she had to feed the cat. And the meat was in danger of defrosting in her bag. And she had to get the dinner on or Malcolm, her husband, would complain bitterly about it all night. What was with the stupid notice anyway? Who were these people to tell her what to do? If she wanted to remove her photos while the red light was on, why shouldn't she? She was being childish now, she knew it, but the day had made her like this. Crap weather, smarmy, arsey shop assistants and stupid inflexible and unreasonable bus timetables. Her photos popped into the slot and they began to vibrate as the dry wind coursed over them from below. The red light blinked on. The pictures looked awful. But she knew they would. They always did. The whole passport photo business was all a racket... DO NOT REMOVE YOUR PHOTOS WHILE THE RED LIGHT IS ON Jesus. The size of that "warning" notice. You'd think it was a capital offence akin to murder to remove your pictures with that bloody red light on" she murmured to herself. She could take the photos now, catch her bus and wait for the things to dry in her hand while the bus wound it's merry way through the streets. She didn't need to wait for the blower to dry them off. She could take them now and leave. It had already taken far too long and she was sick of reading the same old adverts on the walls and that same boring notice in front of her. DO NOT REMOVE YOUR PHOTOS WHILE THE RED LIGHT IS ON She really did need to go now. She really did have to catch her bus. She really did have to take her photos now. She really couldn't wait. DO NOT REMOVE YOUR PHOTOS WHILE THE RED LIGHT IS ON She slid the plastic shutter up and felt the warm breeze of the blower against her manicured fingers. She saw the red light begin to blink as she pulled the still wet, still sticky photos from the slot. The red light got brighter and brighter as it blinked faster and faster. !!!! DO NOT REMOVE YOUR PHOTOS WHILE THE RED LIGHT IS ON !!!! Someone screamed in horror. A klaxon sounded. Hooters tooted and bells rang. And then the entire planet exploded around her. And everybody else on the planet died with her. And it was all her fault. Because she hadn't followed the instructions. DO NOT REMOVE YOUR PHOTOS WHILE THE RED LIGHT IS ON Dammit, some of these things are important!! 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