Wednesday, Nov. 3:
I am in Boston to have my Biometrics done for my visa application. It seems like Sarah and I have been strategizing around my visa and the implications for so long. Which visa? When? How long will it take? How do we work this around work, ultrasounds, etc.? Filling out the lengthy form. Assembling all the supporting documents. Email correspondence. Bank statements. Pictures of us together. Pictures of James. Mortgage statements. Birth certificates. Evidence of Sarah’s income as my sponsor.
As my sponsor, Sarah must demonstrate that I won’t be a burden on the system. That she can support me. They don’t realize that she goes off to work while I do all the heavy lifting, e.g. doing the wash, yardwork, etc.
Sarah fears I will be stuck in the states longer than the two weeks, at most, it will likely take to process my visa. She has already said that if it takes longer than three weeks, she is pulling James out of school and coming to the states.
Today I’m going to the Application Support Center, opposite the Boston Garden, to have my Biometrics done as part of the visa application process. Sounds so futuristic. This probably only means finger printing but I’m hoping that they will also scan my retina and fit me for some new glasses.
When I entered the center, I was handed number 756 as part of the passive and impersonal process. “Move here.” “Sit here.” “Move down three chairs.” “Next.” However, very efficient. I arrived an hour early to reduce my anxiety and was processed in a half an hour. Biometrics done. My BMI is 26. I need to lose a little weight. And my triglycerides were a little high. Ha!
The Application Support Center was the typical bureaucratic, drab powder blue. Would powder blue be drab in your house? Maybe you can also get drab Egg Shell, or drab Ochre. The can must have specific instructions: “For use in government offices only.”
There was also an old 1’ x 3’ map in a case, bolted to the wall, of all the shipwrecks around Sable Island. Pretty random. Once home, my research revealed that Sable Island and the accompanying wrecks are up in Nova Scotia. I can’t make the connection to the Application Support Center, unless it relates to immigration back in the days of ocean travel.
Afterwards, I ran over to FedEx and shipped the two-inch thick packet, including confirmation the completion of my biometrics, that we had assembled for the Future Partners Visa to the British Consulate.
As we now fret over the uncertainty of my return to England, some personality traits are illuminated. Sarah pretends to be an optimist but this process reveals her methodology. She prepares herself with the worst-case scenario (“I’ll see you at Christmas, honey.”) and is then happy when it works out better. I tend to be optimistic (Can you say “naïve”, Pangloss?), thinking it will work out according to plan, the most expedient route.
Monday, Nov. 8:
The British Consulate sent an email today confirming receipt of our application. The letter states that the visa will be processed within 5-10 business days. They clearly state that we should not try to contact them within that time but may contact them if they exceed the 10 days.
Wednesday, Nov. 24:
The 10 days have expired and the visa has not been processed yet. We have had no contact or information from the British Consulate. I called my congressman's office and was told by a staffer that the embassies have, in the past, told them to mind their own business. In fact, she commented that an inquiry from the congressman's office would likely extend the processing time or quickly result in a rejection. With that information, I wrote to the consulate a careful, diplomatic, deferential email seeking information on the status of our application.
It’s been great to see family and friends but I am now feeling like an exile. Sarah is attending doctors’ appointments without me. In three weeks, she is having the scan where we will learn the gender of the baby. These events are supposed to be shared.
While I get to spend more time with my family for Thanksgiving, we had to cancel our Brent Pelham Thanksgiving scheduled for this Sunday.
Tuesday, Nov. 30:
The saga continues. No response to my email to the consulate. I called British Airways to reschedule my flight two weeks hence and was informed that it would cost an additional $450. I cancelled the flight. My optimism is beginning to look a lot like wishful thinking while Sarah pessimism is looking more realistic.
My tenant returned to Northampton from her two week trip to California and Washington state. I’m now itinerant, in NYC for a second round of visits with family and friends. James has begun to ask, again, when I am coming home.
If I am still stranded in the states when Sarah goes into labor (not really, since she is having a c-section), I'll be sending around a petition for your signatures, requesting that I be placed in a nice mental health facility with kindly orderlies.
More updates to follow, unfortunately. If only we knew someone who had some influence with the British Consulate.
As Robert Browning wrote, “Oh to be in England” (http://poemsandprose.blog.co.uk/2009/08/23/oh-to-be-in-england-6798761/). I’m out of season but the sentiment still fits.
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