Ladies and Gentleman this will be a long post, so feel free to move on to the next post if you're not up for the read. Otherwise, get a cup of tea and I'll tell ya all about it while it's still fresh in my mind.
As many here knew, my spousal visa was getting close to expiration and it was time to apply for Indefinite Leave to Remain. I could've mailed in my application along with passports and documentation, but I had concerns about doing it when it was close to the holidays and knowing the mail would get held up and that people would be taking time off. I also didn't like the idea of letting my passport go for that long when it's the only piece of identification I really have these days that everyone is happy with. So I chose the masochistic route and figured I'd make the trip to Croydon.
Frank and I figured we'd be semi-smart about it. I had heard all the stories of people going and queing up at insane hours of the morning and waiting hours on end. We knew it was going to be a full day.
We started out by booking a hotel room for the night at the Jurys Inn (
http://www.jurysdoyle.com/fruk_index.htm). The lady at the reception desk relayed stories about how people doing the same thing asked for wake up calls for like 3 am. "Sorry", I said, "I refuse to queue before 7/7:30".
*NB: I'm not convinced queuing at 4 am will make the wait any shorter and one STILL sits and waits for x amount hours before the dang building even opens.
Carrying on...We woke up at 6, got ready and headed out. Found Lunar House, home of the home office, but aha! No one told us there were 2 different lines going into the building! Ugh! Well, we figured out quite quickly that the line we initially joined was not the right line and was for people going through some sort of screeing process on the 3rd floor.
We joined the queue at the front of the building and it wasn't too bad. Sure there were a lot of people but the line wasn't half way down the block like I thought it might be. It was 7 AM when we joined the queue.
The adventure of standing in the line is one worth noting. So the guards come out with their cattle fences shortly after we join the line and start telling people to move up, which we did. About 7:15, Frank decides to head to McDonald's to fetch us some breakfast. I decide to read the book I brought. It's worth noting that some people will do their level best to jump the queue. As I stood by myself reading, I felt someone pull my hair. I turned around and there was a middle eastern woman standing there who asked me, "Do they grant you independence?" I said, "What?" She said, "Do they grant you independence if you have children?" I looked at her kind of funny and said, "I dunno." After that she proceeded to try to jump the queue in front of me, the guy in front of me and the couple in front of him. Frank came back and we ate. The woman disappeared. When it became 8 am and they started letting people in, she showed up again. I had told Frank about her and said, "She can jump the queue in front of others if they let her, but she isn't jumping in front of me."
So as we're snaking our way through the maze of the line, I feel her tug my hair again. I was pissed and turned around and said, "Would you please stop pulling my hair?!" and she answered back, "I'm not pulling your hair!" Riiiiigghhhhhtttt.....
When she got the message she wasn't jumping in front of me or the guy in front of me, she tried to jump in line behind us. The guy behind us wasn't having it either. She did manage to get in behind him though as the Pakastani family standing behind that guy didn't seem to mind. Oi!
We get into the building at 9 AM; 2 hours after arrival. Get through security ok, get our number, head up to 2nd floor. We're number 250. They were on number 117 when we got there. We were in for a looooong wait.
Six and a half hours, a sandwich, crips, candy bars, a few bathroom trips, and a lot of reading later, we finally got called about 3:45 PM. I was a bit nervous because there was one thing I knew would be a sticking point: they wanted documentation that our marriage "subsists" and wanted utility bills or whatever other official type stuff that is in joint names with our address. Since we live with the in-laws, we have no bills together and his bank didn't want to put me on his bank account, so we've always had separate accounts too. However, on the application it says if we can provide documents that have been mailed to us individually at our address, then that works. Great! No problem. Bank statements were provided, along with a letter addressed to us jointly from Halifax, and our travel insurance policy which was sent to me but has both our names on it.
Yet the guy still stuck on it a little bit so we had to explain to him that we lived with the in-laws to which he began to ask if we had a letter from the in-laws stating this. No, we don't because it's not asked for on the application AND we went through this when we initially applied for the spousal visa so somewhere in the British Immigration system is a copy of my in-laws' rent card and letter stating it was A-OK for us to live here with them. Guy backed off and said what we provided was fine. Good. I'd hate to have to get pedantic on him. The guy was just doing his job, but he couldn't seem to take a joke when he asked Frank how long he had lived at his address and Frank said, "30 years." the guy said, "You've lived there for 30 years?" Frank said, "I hope so." The guy questioned whether Frank was serious or not. Ummm...it was humour, k? It had been a long day for him.
We were shuffled off to wait for a while longer and within 30 minutes, were called back where I had a pretty green sticker in my passport and a nice letter from the Home Office all officially stamped and everything saying I can remain in the UK indefinitely. Woo hoo!
Of course, by then it was 4:30 or so and Frank and I looked at each other and said, "Right. Let's get the hell out of here."
*NB: STILL not convinced queuing up at ungodly morning hours would've made the wait any shorter especially when we kept hearing officers coming over the loudspeaker saying, "Number 18 would you please return to desk 22." and by this time number 187 was being called.
And so we did get the hell out. And so I am officially amongst the permanent residents of the UK and we are home and are celebrating the new green sticker with copious amounts of sparkling grape juice and Thornton's viennese chocolates. Mmmm....
Feel free to partake in the celebrations with us!!!! (offers sparkling grape juice and viennese choccies to all)
