The photobooth story

So, I needed some passport photos. Where do you get passport photos from?

Well the obvious answer is... it varies, but often supermarkets, arcades and train stations cater for the needs of photo hungry passport and visa requirerers.

So I tootled off to Bristol Temple Meads station (built in 1839 by Brunel, it hosts a myriad of trains, photo booths and other reputable services).
The lovely station woman in the season ticket window had no change for my tenner (I'm too weak to carry four £1 coins around, it's much easier to carry five or ten of them in the form of paper and change up when the time requires) so I required another way of obtaining appropriate coinage.

The main ticket windows were all chocker with travellers hoping to set sail on a clickety-clack journey of escapist wonder, and so my gaze turned to the lovely shop run by William Henry Smith.
I purchased some worcester sauce flavour crisps which cost 93p (a shocking markup from their wholesale price) but which left me with precisely a fiver, 7 pence, and four £1 coins which perfectly matched my mission objective.

I preceded delightedly out of the shoppy shop and bounced along to the photo booth making sure that I kept my crisps hidden so that the lovely station woman who failed to change my tenner earlier didn't feel bad for making me spend money for no reason.
I took a seat in the photo machine and dared to wonder whether I'd, just this once, look respectable in the four tiny images about to be created. I clumsily inserted my four Great British Sterling discs and waited for the patronising woman to finish explaining all the things she loves explaining.
I adjusted the seat and waited in heart stopping anticipation for the countdown... 3... 2... 1...

POWERCUT!

Oh bother. Two seconds later the power came on again but the machine had forgotten me. I told the lady, she said there was a number to phone but gave me £4 because she was really really nice.

Then I got my photos done and carried on my day.

The End.