I have been having one of those 'if something can go wrong, it will, and if it cannot, it still will' week or so. There must be a mercury retrograde or some such thing hovering in my chart. I will present an Exhibit A, and you decide.

I was expecting to receive my passport back after a visa stamp on Thursday morning, via tracked Royal Mail delivery. Around the expected time, I got a buzz on my intercom. The muffled voice seemed to be that of the delivery person. I couldn't hear much of what they said but just pressed the button to let them in. After a few minutes, no one knocked my door. I started wondering if they expected me to collect the parcel downstairs. I wasn't sure of protocol for this signed document because my normal parcels are all left in the common area or personal mailbox downstairs to collect at my convenience. I was just about to leave my flat when I get a mail that the parcel was delivered. I half-panicked but then thought it might have been placed in the mailbox? It seemed a bit odd, but went to check the mailbox. The second I realised it wasn't there I was in a full-blown panic! I started wondering if he's on his way to my flat while I am here. So I run back towards my flat and there's no one, no sign of deliverer anywhere, no sign of package anywhere. Imagine my state of mind for the kind of person I am! I went through a million scenarios of all the stupid trouble I would be in if I did not find my passport! I emailed the agency who'd posted it to me to catch hold of Royal Mail and figure out what happened. That's when I noticed my delivery mail said there was a signature proof of delivery! I was mind-boggled and opened the link. Not only was there a signature (not mine), there was a pic of someone from waist down (not me) taking the package! That person looked like a woman wearing red capris. I had lost my wits at this point, but I couldn't fathom why somebody would sign for my package? Was it a cleaner who was going to give it to me? Very unlikely. In any case something told me the clue must be somewhere downstairs, so I go back down again. I start frantically writing a mail to the property management folks to circulate a mail among flat owners... when... lo and behold... I see a woman with red capris come down the stairs!!

Well, imagine my feelings at this point. I ask this lady point blank if she's got my package? She says, 'come with me', goes around to pick a box which I assumed is her package, and then gets me to accompany her to her flat. To cut a long story short, this woman does not speak English well and has only been in this apartment block for a week. She couldn't explain to me the exact chain of events that led to her taking my parcel. What I could gather is she was expecting her own package and thought this was hers. I am assuming that in the 10-minute window that the delivery person was waiting for me to come downstairs and I was wondering if he was coming up, this lady got a notification her parcel was delivered (unsigned ones are just placed in the common area), came to collect it, was accosted by delivery person with my name, which she didn't understand, and just took it! Once she figured it wasn't hers, it looks like she came downstairs again to get hers... completely unbothered by the fact that she had a stranger's parcel which she had signed for!

I was too relieved to get my passport back... ‘all's well that ends well’ was how I felt, after the utter distress of the last many minutes!