I broke into a cold sweat worrying about the prospect of being grilled and put on another plane back to Kuala Lumpur. Shall I wake up the spouse and unburden my fears? I nudged him awake and told him the dire news. He muttered "Don't worry. We'll sort it out when we get to Immigration" and went back to sleep.
But within half a minute, he sat straight up - now fully aware of my predicament. "What other documents have you got with you?", he asked.
But my address was not on these cards and the NI Card is not a valid proof of identity. My mugshot was not on it!
Then it dawned on me that if I went to Immigration hanging on to the spouse's coat-tail they will want proof of our marriage. For all they know I could have paid Donald Iain Buchanan millions or billions of pesos or bahts or rupiahs to get a foothold into Britain!
I only cart along our marriage certificate when we travel in Malaysia - you know, khalwat and all that palaver. That piece of paper is quite travel worn by now because it accompanied us whenever and wherever we travelled in Malaysia - ever since 4 April 1986. We keep one copy in Britain and the other in Malaysia with my mother when she was still with us. It's now safely ensconced in a little case under our bed in KL - just in case.
Then the spouse dug into his wallet and discovered our NHS Cards which had our addresses in it. Phew! What a relief.
We explained our problem to the 'native' British Immigration Officer. (I have noticed how in the last few years, a majority of the Immigration Officers are non-bumiputra Brits. I wonder why?)
He asked how long I had been away and after getting my answer he stamped my passport. And that was that!
So I'm now safely back at No 43. After a week I'm still waking up at 3/4 am!! Yaawnn.