Hell hath no fury like the temperament of a bureaucrat designing immigration forms. I cannot think of anything other than a vengeful spirit, possibly brought on by a thwarted love affair, that could have led anyone to compose the sentence I’ve put I boldface below:
“Since [first entering the UK] have you had any absences from the UK? If yes, give the dates of and reason(s) for the absences in the spaces below. List all absences, however short, including all of 3 months or more.”
(I have yet to find anyone who can tell me, grammatically or otherwise, whether I am actually meant to try to list my forty or so absences of less than three months in the eight small spaces provided.)
Having lived continuously in the United Kingdom for nearly five years, my visa is due to expire in October. So I am in the process of applying for Indefinite Leave to Remain via the ominously-acronymed, multi-pagéd SET0 application. Not only do I have to complete fields packed with sentences as abstruse as the above specimen, provide originals of hundreds of documents (such as every payslip I have ever received here) and surrender £750, but I must prove my allegiance to this fair land by passing the infamous ‘Life in the UK’ Test. (I’ve trialled some of the sample questions on my British colleagues and have determined that most of them would probably fail it outright.)
Why, you might ask, is an American putting herself through all this? The short answer is that I am weary of travel and anxious to put down roots. And Britain has come to feel more like home than anywhere else I’ve ever lived, the US included. When I resided in Amsterdam, it was London I felt homesick for. I travel quite a bit, but whenever I land at Heathrow, Gatwick, Luton or Stansted, I feel a little flutter of happiness in my heart that my journey has ended in this place above all others.
One of the hallmarks of the scientific profession is, of course, its transient nature. When you are younger this feature is exciting, and there is no doubt that I have benefited from experiencing so many other cultures at close range. But gradually, the lack of a solid foundation starts to take its toll. You begin to suspect that your soul has been spread a bit too thin. Sometimes, walking down a familiar-seeming street, I’ve had to suddenly stop in my tracks and actively remember what city I’m in. I’ve done research now in three different countries, and I have lived in eighteen different residences since leaving home in 1986. But even when you’re ensconced in one laboratory for a good few years, people come and go around you in a bewildering blur. I have lost track of the number of times I’ve met a new colleague and shared a instant jolt of connection with them, only to see a flyer for their leaving party put up a week later. The pang of loss, it seems, gets worse with age.
Although settling down won’t stop everyone else from leaving, at least you are a stationary object and the relative velocity feels a bit dampened. Some friends will still slip through your fingers, but I fervently hope that given time, I can eventually accumulate a small community of warmth and stability around me.
Of course no one knows what the future will bring. Maybe the winds will change and I’ll be blown off again one day like dandelion fluff on the breeze. But for now, I am feeling the pull of solid British soil beneath my feet.
My sympathies… I spent some time yesterday filling in my Canadian citizenship application form, which I will be eligible to sign and send in a few days. I too had to remember the exact dates, destination and purpose of every single absence from the country in the last 6 years – not easy as I used to go to 4 conferences and 2 music festivals in the States each year !
Having said that, the citizenship forms were much more straightforward than those required to obtain permanent resident status. I had to account for every month of my life since the age of 18, with documented proof of every student address and summer bar job. That was fun.
I shall say no more, having vowed not to blog about my experiences until that navy blue Canadian passport is safely nestled in my document box next to its purple UK equivalent.
sniff
I think I’m going to cry…
There’s a thought, Cath. Maybe I shouldn’t be dissing the hand I want to feed me.
For example, I definitely shouldn’t mention that it seems a bit hypocritical that a form demanding English proficiency certifications be headed thusly:
Are you mocking me, Grant?
Yeah, you never know who’s reading!
How long does the UK process take? I’ve been told 12-18 months for Canadian citizenship, including the test and ceremony.
Someone asked me recently if I was going to have a problem with declaring allegiance to the Queen at my ceremony. I said “erm, no, I’m English”. I have more of a problem with “God keep our land, glorious and free” in the anthem actually.
I thought he was mocking me. That’s why I ignored him ;)
This is ILR, not citizenship. After two years of IRLness, I could apply for citizenship, though I haven’t yet decided if I should. There’s a lot, psychologically, tied up in final step.
I do hope it doesn’t take long, because you surrender your passport for the duration. My visa took five months; it was painful to be grounded for that long.
Regarding the anthem, your UK one starts with the G-word as well, doesn’t it?
I confirm Cath’s assertion that it is easier to get citizenship than permanent resident status. Or at least it was when I did it. Roughly the same documents in France, but I also had to get an attestation from the FBI after receiving my fingerprints that they didn’t know who I was. And my own and parents’ birth certificates issued within the previous three months. However, I think I got the citizenship itself within six months or so once the file was in. And now I don’t have to get checked out every ten years, and have a choice of passports when traveling.
Regarding the absences – you do the best you can with your old passports and diaries and hope for the best.
Welcome to the great world-wide nation of lifetime expatriates! We have more in common among us than with many citizens of our original countries. And no going back.
I wasn’t mocking anyone!
Just touched by the sentiments. Being a legal alien myself, and a bit of a gypsy, I know what Jenny is on about.
(And ‘dependant’? Perfectly good English word. Different from ‘dependent’)
Your parents’ birth certificates?
Holy cow. That’s hard-core.
Thanks for your kind words, Heather. Maybe we need a secret handshake.
I didn’t need my parents’ birth certificates, luckily. Were you trying to get citizenship through a Canadian parent, Heather? (BTW my Mum won’t let me have my own birth certificate. She just sends me photocopies every time I need one. Which is a lot. Is this normal? In related news, Newcastle University will not let me have more than one degree transcript at a time; I have to get a new one each time I need it rather than asking for 10 at a time. Glasgow are much more accommodating, they even provide free translations of the PhD certificate, which is in bloody Latin, FFS).
OK, I feel better for that.
Heather, I also needed police certificates saying that they’d never heard of me from England AND Scotland, as well as the US where I once spent 3 months.
It is all going to be soooo worth it when I’m a dual citizen and don’t have to get fingerprinted by US immigration any more.
Ah, yet another British spelling I haven’t met yet. I wonder if I will ever master them all?
just when you think you have, Jenny, we’ll change some more.
Evolving language. Love it.
ahh… the joy of VISA applications. I wish you all the luck Jenny!!
When I applied for my US visa one of the [millon] questions and statements was “list all countries you have been in the last 10 years with dates for entrance/exits”. Did I by any chance go interrailing as a young student? In Europe? Did some of these countries not exits any more? Did At the correct dates for weekend trips to various countries under 10 years?
And I had to provide certificates for my parents as well, where they were born and where they live not and their social number (the swedish one). I guess they want to be able to check if the family is suspected for something or so??
And if nothing else, I have never wanted a shorter full name as much as filling in those forms. Not to mention that diffrent agencys transcribe the swedish letters differently… aka “this name is not spelled like in the passport” – but it is as in the VISA papers… ^ ^
Richard, I do believe it’s a conspiracy. But the Microsoft Office spell-checker will keep you lot docile and contained.
Åsa – sounds as if I’ve got nothing to complain about, yet!
That’s what we like you to think, Jenny.
As you know, since the middle ages all able-bodied English men have been required to undertake archery practise under supervision of the clergy every Sunday; and to provide their male offspring with a bow and arrows. This law has never been repealed. Similarly, we are required to have ready access to the Oxford English Dictionary at all times:
Corner of my desk, just now
For the US permanent residency, I had to take a tetanus shot (my fifth), a measles mumps rubella vaccine (though I have already had measles and am well over the age of high exposure) and a TB test. Which needless to say, lit up like a christmas tree (more like a christmas pudding) because I have had BCG. Then a chest X-ray to certify that I am okay. Even though one might anticipate that any disease may have shown any time these past 8 years.
Also, I’m South Indian, so my father’s first name is my last name and my birth certificate is all wonky as a result.
Best part? I had to do the chest X-ray four years ago for a ten day visit to Australia.
There’s no logic to immigration processes, maybe aptly so, since there often isn’t much logic to where one decides to live?
Good luck!
(Archery? really?)
And I thought it was only cambridge where the students were allowed to practice archery down one of the streets of the town (Petty Cury, I believe)
Ahhh, immigration processes. I took a French language exam to get more points on my Canadian Permanent Resident Application (because I didn’t have a job lined up, which is worth like a million points). I studied for 3 months, did the test, and before I even sent them my score I got called for my medical exam, which meant I had enough points without the French proficiency test…
This is not my favourite immigration story. That one is about my Kafkaesque experience with the Canadian embassy in Berlin when I applied for my study permit. I wrote it down that summer, because it was just too weird (although anyone who had to deal with that particular office found it quite recognizable). Maybe I’ll post it some time, now that I’m no longer on a study permit.
My favourite was when I had to go to the Canadian consulate in London to get a temporary document to enter the country after my PR card got stolen in Madrid. Of course, despite calling the embassies in London, Madrid, Lisbon and Faro well in advance (long story), no-one ever told me to get a police report. So when I showed up in London without one, there was hell to pay. They knew I was guilty of something – they just didn’t know what.
In the end the document was issued with all kinds of dire warnings about how they’d put a special code on it which meant my ability to go home was subject to the decision of the immigration official at the point of entry. After sweating it for 4 days and having the most anxious flight home ever, my conversation with the immigration official at the point of entry went as follows:
IO: what’s the story with this temporary document?
Me: my PR card got stolen in Madrid, and this is what the consulate in London gave me
IO: that sucks, eh? Welcome home.
whenever I land at Heathrow…I feel a little flutter of happiness
Is there a mental health check for the visa? Might be a cause for concern ;)
Jenny,
I didn’t mean to compete in who had the worst – just to let you know that VISA issues are messy… and not really as sane as one would like them to be. (It doesn’t help that you can’t really argue with the people in charge – they’ll just deny you then… or at least that is what I think they will.)
I remember a similar feeling to that Cath describes, since getting a student visa approved to Canada involved fixing a lot of papers, money withdrawls, bank statements and stuff but nothing was definitive until you got to the “port of entry”. So, after a long trip and several flights I finally had my interview at Vancouver airport the day before new years 1999/2000… I wasn’t only nervous – since everything would be so complicated if they refused my visa at that time – but also sleep deprived. Well, nowadays I think you have to fix it well in advance, maybe not the worst change?!
anyway, good luck with the papers and getting the right spelling (if you are confused, surely it must be ok for me as a non-native English speaker to be utterly confused about spelling every once in a while ;) )
A couple of years ago my student and I wanted to go to a conference in Montreal. Getting in was easy for me, what with being one of Her Majesty’s subjects and all that, but my student is from the Democratic Republic of Congo, so he needed a visa. A couple of weeks before we were due to go, he got a letter through the post from the Canadian embassy (IIRC not even in Helsinki) asking him to fill in a form explaining his activities as a mercenary in Yugoslavia during the civil war there. Um….
It is clear that my little woes are but grains of sand to the vast desert of bureaucratic machinations described above! This is all very therapeutic, ladies and gentlemen.
But I was hoping someone would have solved my little boldface riddle by now…
I’d say “No.”
That’s what Karen said: she left it entirely blank.
It’s the ‘no matter how short’ that’s getting me.
@Jennifer: just fill in at least a few of your trips that are featured in your current passport. Those are easily verifiable. If it is below the radar, so be it.
@Cath: it was for French citizenship, from the U.S. So, not much by way of hurdles relative to some, I think – but then again, perhaps they try to not discriminate in how arbitrary they can get because:
@Niranjana: I forgot all about the chest X-ray! That one couldn’t get from any old radiologist, no, it had to be from the place for immigrants with restricted hours in a low-rent area of the capital. I can just imagine the problems you faced with the So. Indian name order. I bet it gets worse if you hail from a country that has itself been renamed or readministered – Yugoslavia, or like a friend, Alsace during the German occupation. Bob’s story also makes one wince.
I think these immigration procedures are designed to make one and all feel guilty of something, anything, and to feel that the procedure is arbitrary – so that if you actually are guilty of something your host country doesn’t want, it might come through at some point.
Most countries are trying to discourage immigration to some point, anyhow. France has taken it to new lows, what with forced expulsions of people without the right documents who pay taxes and send their kids to public schools – these are the ones who are easier to track down. The ones who dabble in human trafficking are off the hook, on the other hand – we’re keeping the police force too occupied with the others.
Jennifer, you’re the sort of person they’re aiming to welcome into Europe, what with the “directed” immigration policies that have been put into place. No worries for you, but a thought of sympathy for those who have more complicated situations.
And here I was, feeling that my slant on science and literature was just a touch subversive.
Gosh. Makes me
proudgrateful to be British, living in Britain, and with no intentions of ever leavingmy beach hutthe country for the purposes ofdomicileresidenceliving.Jenny – all sorts of rumours fly about the contents of that Britishness Test, and it would be great, and indeed, helpful, were you do do an expose on your blog. I know someone who’s just taken one and she swears that she didn’t have to
I was disappointed. I mean, what else is there?
I do have a tale of a person I know who was taking out US citizenship, and failed (initially) on his inability to write a passage of the King’s Englisc (the King being Alfred) that met the criteria of the immigration officials. The applicant took umbrage at this, very rightly — he is a Professor of English Language, and had presumably used words too long for the IO to understand. (The Prof got his citizenship).
Damn, Henry: if only those were the questions, I’d get two out of three.
(Unless I’d get partial credit for saying that Marmite has at least some use as a substitute for Polyfilla™).
If sir wants an exposé, sir shall get one…
Sir Requests and Requires in the Name of Her Majesty that the Bearer should be allowed to tootle about without let or hindrance and that all such assistance is afforded the Bearer as notwithstanding anysuchwhich might be necessary. Yeah, absolutely. Whateva.
Oh lord. I’m going to need pay slips? I haven’t kept anything.
Well, I’m still not eligible for my ILR for another two years so I’ll worry about it then. Incidentally, Jenny, if you don’t want to wait the ridiculous amount of time it takes for them to process it, I got my latest visa in Croydon using the one-day premium service. Of course, there’s the mere consideration of the couple hundred extra pounds it costs, but at least it gets done. If only you could do it the way God intended and just slip them a carton of Marlboros.
Jenny – the US’s loss is our gain!
I’m reminded of something that other great import from across the Atlantic, Bill Bryson, said in one of his books. He describes the way, whenever someone visited from a different country, they were asked how they liked America. Just fine, they would say. But then they were expected to say they preferred America to their own country, and their hosts were deeply offended and/or puzzled when they didn’t.
Similarly, I am always immensely gratified when someone from another country feels the UK is worth calling home. This is particularly true with a catch like Bill or Jenny, but I even feel it about (say) Madonna.
Madonna and I have excellent taste. Except I’m not sure about those recent purple leotards.
Thanks Brian, that’s really sweet of you to say.
Jenny, for £750 we could have a shotgun ceremony and enough left over for a wedding cake, no?
Or would Richard, Henry and I have to duel first?
It’s a very touching thought, Scott, really it is, but unfortunately they lighten your wallet for that visa as well.
Death, taxes and the UK Border Agency.
I do, however, like the idea of a duel. Apparently one of you three is an archer.
When I went for indefinite leave to remain (sorry Richard they let me stay) they only had the passport for 8 days. On the other hand that was pre-test. As for the absences – I attempted to put all in based on what was in my passport – this was a very long list appended on a separate piece of paper.
I’m now eligible for a British passport and would appreciate any test guidance possible so an expose would be great. But payslips! Not a chance. How about a whopping great mortgage?
You have my sympathies, Jenny. My partner went through all this earlier in the year. (It should have been last year but they changed the rules to require 5 years residence instead of 4 years). He paid the extra £200 (£950 in all) and went along to the IND in Croydon to pick it up in person – no messing about with passports in the post that way.
But the worst thing has to be Schengen visas … be glad you don’t need them.
Apparently one of you three is an archer.
I am, but I’m somewhat out of practice. So the person I’m aiming at shouldn’t be in any danger — it’s anyone who happens to be standing beside them.
Cameron, the test will probably not be too bad. I’ve bought the book (another £34) and it’s surprisingly entertaining. They also make an effort to put key points into blue summary boxes – these, I assume, will be more likely to be test questions. Another thing I found out recently is that they are unlikely to ask you the Welsh, Scottish or Northern Irish-specific trivia if you take the test in England (and vice versa the three other ways).
I’ll run some questions in the next blog and you can all play along at home!
Strike that. The book wasn’t that expensive, the test is £34. The book was something more reasonable.
Also, you can take it in advance of applying and can retake it if you fail.
I’ve heard that the Canadian test is ridiculously easy – it’s basically a language comprehension test more than anything. Questions are along the lines of:
What is the capital of Canada?
a) America
b) Ottawa
c) Wayne Gretzky
The British test is a bit more respectable from what I’ve heard!
Hey, I’ve heard that the capital of Britain is America!
My finace had to apply for further leave to remain when he got a fellowship and was technically no longer employed by the university. He thought it was hilarious that the first three pages of the guidance notes are all about how to pay.
However, someone at the Home Office got a bit excited and rang the university to ask if he still worked there to which the answer from administration was “no”. We get a letter in the mail informing him he has six weeks to leave the country with no right of appeal.
Took a few weeks to sort out between the university administration and the Home Office that he actually did (sort of) work there and he was entitled to stay in the country.
Bascially, people too keen to do their jobs, and therefore not doing them properly.
Jenny, I would fill out the eight most recent ones in reverse chronological order. In the States you need to include all, even one day trips, so just do as many as you can.
Jenny,
when I read the bold sentence I thought, “oh, only the abseneces more than 3 months” and then I thought – well that’s not too many maybe? Seems way to easy for a VISA application ;)
So, it doesn’t seem like i can help with that interpretation anyway.
I must say that there is one good thing about EU (maybe more but I’m not sure) – that I can go and work in France or UK sicne I’m a proper EU citizen. Of course, there will be problems and immigration stuff to deal with but as far as I understand it from my friends who are in that situation, much easier than being nonEU… or EU in US…
Yes, it is definitely an advantage to have EU status here. Fortunately I am on a Highly Skilled Migrant visa which means I am allowed to reside here while looking for a job – so if I lost my job they would not deport me. For a while, anyway!
I looked up the “Life in the UK” test on teh interwebz, and apparently there’s a question about Geordie, Scouse, and Cockney dialects. Didn’t get far enough to find out whether there were questions about Monty Python, the London Tube map, and the identity of candies in the Woolworth’s Pic-A-Mix.
I’ve been an Anglophile (a crime punishable by grits, in Texas) most of my life, and several of my professors in grad school told me that the best cure was to do postdoctoral research in the UK. So I did that, lived and worked in London for three years, learned the ways of the natives, bought a Barbour thornproof and blended in as much as possible…and it didn’t work. Returned to the US once my NIH fellowship money was gone, and I’m still an Anglophile.
The Barbour repels mesquite thorns, btw…too bad it’s too warm to wear it here most of the time!
Returned to the US once my NIH fellowship money was gone, and I’m still an Anglophile.
But an Anglophile now with an OOFTUG.
It didn’t work for me either, Kristi. The trick is to not go back home once your money runs out.
Why stop when you’re having fun?
The whole idea of a test seems very un-British. The very thought.
There’s only one response that makes any sense at a time like this:
“Don’t be bloody daft”.
I don’t think you can be a fully participating member of society if you can’t remember what date St David’s day falls on.
Patron St of Wales? What’s he got to do with Britain?
Scott: a duel? What a top notion. August?
You might have to remind me what we’re fighting over.
Me.
Remind me why I agreed to this, again?
Damsels in distress, wasn’t it?
Why yes, the OOFTUG! A very British award, after all….
I’m planning to return to the UK
brieflyto visit some friends next year, Jennifer. It will probably unleash waves of nostalgia, and I’ll be tempted to return and seek employment/prolonged residence.I’d have to leave Smaug behind, of course. The horses are Thoroughbreds-they’ll fit right in, and the grass will be better than anything they’ve ever tasted here!
Oh yes, Jenny.
Well, if Henry wears a long, flowing dress and clutches a white rose to his breast as he exclaims
“Woe, woe, whoever shall rescue me from the clutches of Maxine?”
then I shall do my gentlemanly duty.
(ever get the feeling that you’ve missed something really, really important?)
I’ll have you know that Mrs Gee has discovered the Nature Network blogs and finds our antics hilariously funny. So watch it. And long, flowing dresses don’t complement my figure at all. I’m only prepared to do this if I can wear a grass skirt and a green lurex boob tube. And my crocs, noblesse oblige.
Henry, have you tried an Empire waistline? It flatters any figure.
Kristi, I have found an interesting mentality amongst my fellow Americans about living abroad. One particular friend is a good example. He has always wanted to live in Spain. He’s been there several times and spends most of his time dreaming about living there. But when it comes down to it, the idea of just doing the deed seems to violate some law of physics. And I suspect he never will.
Of course living in another country is a big step, but for most Americans, it seems unfathomable.
In science in particular, there is also a real stigma about doing post-docs abroad. I was told by one professor that if I did a postdoc in England, I’d have to “start from scratch” in America for the next one as if it somehow wouldn’t count! This, despite the fact that the man I was going to do my post-doc with in London was more famous than this professor and everyone in our department.
Jenny, I heard that in the U.S., too! So I won’t go back until (and maybe not then) I have a whopping good CV from my decades elsewhere.
Meanwhile, in France, you can hardly get a job in biomedical sciences, anyhow, unless you have done a postdoc in another country. Talk about inferiority complex!
Yes, British scientists call it earning your BTA (“been to America”).
In twenty years’ time, it will probably be China and India where the youngsters will have to cut their teeth.
Henry, have you tried an Empire waistline? It flatters any figure
What, you mean like this?
An Empire Waistline, yesterday
Surely you’re joking, Dr Rohn?
I am suddenly feeling a bit queasy.
Oh great. Just what I need before a long haul flight.
Pass the chunder bags.
I’d better behave myself now. I’m being watched
What?
signs up the Pawns, Younger and Elder, for NN accounts@Jennifer and Heather:
I definitely experienced the “anti-European postdoc” bias when I returned to the US, after 3 years in the UK. It was if that postdoc stint, in a productive lab, counted for nothing, in spite of the fact that I published three peer-reviewed papers (two as first author-two in Neuron, one in Development), one review article, and a book chapter, during that period. The bias is utterly ridiculous and insupportable, but nevertheless I had to suck it up and do three more years of postdoctoral research in the US.
Off topic- My Labrador retriever is drooling on my leg and shoving her nose on the keyboard, making it very difficult to type. I think I’d better go feed her before there is an
imklidfentyuncidweqIncident.Richard.
What do they think of a postdoc in Australia then I wonder?
Kristi -
actually, can anyone anywhere get a job after only only three years of post-doctoral training, no matter what country it was in? (I assume you are un biomedical rsearch).
Jennifer-
It’s possible (in biomedical research), though I think the chances decrease each year. Sometimes an applicant is a perfect “fit” for a particular tenure-track position, and if he or she has also been productive, might land the job with a good seminar. Even if the ad is vague, the search committee usually has an agenda, with regards to areas of research, and perhaps teaching expertise.