04 June, 2007

Arsing British Consulate

What an exhausting weekend! We fell into the bed at the end of Sunday, looked at each other and said, Let’s not have a farewell party. Every single weekend from now till we leave is booked up with stuff and we simply cannot face it. The only thing I wanted to do this weekend was go down to the club and lounge by the pool and I didn’t manage to do that.

Had to go to Western Market with Fourth Aunt to buy authentically unbleached-looking linen to make outfit for Larry – it is Ancient Egyptian week at school this week. To Stanley – bought girls and myself swimsuits, although only four weeks left before we can kiss goodby to swimming outdoors. Had New Worlders round for lunch yesterday, so LSS had spent much of the previous 24 hours cooking. Luckily they are not Americans so not averse to a bit of the sauce. Between the five of us we drank five bottles. No wonder I was so tired.

I still have a hole in my leg. The kids and I think it is getting better. LSS disagrees.

Went to British Consulate today to apply for visa as Returning Resident. Gave them letter from work showing that I have worked for them since 1994, have been on secondment since 1999, and am now returning to the UK to continue working for them. Also gave them marriage certificate demonstrating I’m married to a British citizen and passport copies demonstrating that I am the mother of British citizens. Also gave them leasehold of our London flat.

Is there anything else you can give us to demonstrate your intention to settle in the UK, she asks.

Like what, I say.

Anything, she says.

Ooh, that’s helpful. Anything.

What?! What could that be? If being married to a Brit, the mother of Brits, owning a London flat and working for a British company for the past 13 years and with every intention of working for them for the next xxx years, so that I can cash in on my defined benefit pension, is not enough, what will convince them?

I am now going to give them copies of my UK degree certificate, my UK accounting qualification, my UK driving licence and my UK bank statements. Stupid arses. How I hate people who work in consulates.

6 Comments:

Blogger 962 said...

I suggest the following
Put on considerable weight
Dispense with your bra
book a holiday to Benidorm
have your brain removed
take a course in anglo saxon
drink 17 pints of larger eat a curry then VOMIT OVER THE FLOOR OF THE CONSULATE WHILE SWEARING AND SINGING OH YEA OH YEA OH YEA
Should convince them that you are like the other 56 million and could not go anywhere else.

6:36 am  
Blogger hugh said...

Now, now, 962 - go easy on the Liverpool fans.

Toast, are all these squabbly service encounters karma for your high-maintenance Virgin Atlantic trip, I wonder?

7:17 am  
Blogger FBT said...

If VA had provided the exemplary level of service that I demand, as a discerning consumer, there would have been no need for any disturbance in the global karmatic network.

Clearly I am in for a hard time when I return to the UK, the Land that Service Forgot.

9:16 am  
Blogger 962 said...

As an aside
Last year I was in Sainsburys in Norfolk, Hemlock Country I believe. I had placed some beetroot in my trolley and attempeted to pay for said vegetables. This lead to some confusion as the bar code gave not a clue to what these were to the lady on the check out. They after all were not frozen and did not contain pulverised meat or reconstituted bile.
Ah ah at last they were coded under exotic vegetables.
Exotic on account I assume, as they required cooking not microwaving.
Poor poor FBT

11:12 am  
Blogger Fumier said...

I feel sorry for those people who forgot to emigrate.

11:37 am  
Blogger fish said...

Teh stupid is everywhere, not just the BC. Like when the airline wanted a picture ID of my 9 month old son to prove he wasn't over 2 years old and was allowed to fly for free. I just kept staring at the guy and saying: "Picture ID?!? LOOK at him!!!" After about 15 minutes of that, they finally let us through...

2:01 pm  

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