I've mentioned here before, I think, that I'm in the process of applying for a pardon from Canada for my mischief conviction of almost 22 years ago. Really, "in the process" is perhaps putting it too strongly. I'm hung up on one particular step in the process, which is heading down to my local police station to be fingerprinted. I keep finding excuses to put this off—or not even bothering to find excuses. Maybe this isn't surprising, given the way my back prickles—even today, when I haven't done anything—every time I'm out walking and a police car cruises slowly past me.
I have to get over, though, if there's any prayer of making it to Montreal next year for Worldcon.
