Tuesday 28 May 2002

I am exceedingly, ravingly, horribly angry. It is over three months since I sent my passport, our marriage certificate and an explanatory cover letter to apply for my spouse visa (plus additional information in the form of a copy of my initial entry visa application) to the Immigration and Nationality Directorate, based in Croydon of all places. I have as yet received no reply. No reply or response or acknowledgment at all.

Without the spouse visa I cannot work, even though I am "eligible", as of our marriage, to do so. Because I cannot work - let alone apply or even look for work because I do not know when the IND will respond - I am going quietly round the bend. I could manage six months of inactivity in the work area - in fact, it would be a nice rest, kind of like a sabbatical, time to get acclimatised etcetera. Also financially we could manage on one salary for six to eight months, with my savings to help us set up house and the various contributions from parents et al to finance the wedding.

« « « « «

But I wasn't prepared for over six months - to be honest, neither of us were. Right now I am going stir crazy, I'm distressed and depressed and all kinds of other unexplainable things because my brain is atrophying, I have virtually no adult contact or professional conversation or stimulation, I'm pretty much stuck in the house all day because I can't afford to go out and actually *do* shit. Because we are broke, scarily broke; we don't owe any money, fortunately, but once all outgoings have been accounted for - mortgage and phone/internet and electricity/oil/gas and rates and fees and groceries, we are pretty much skint. We do not have the extra cash for entertainment, or for books or CDs or games ... Our budget is way too tight. In fact, once Sam's salary comes in (and goes out again) and our budget is followed to the ntth £, we have nothing to play with. The last couple of months have been tighter, budgetary situation is getting tighter, we both need basics like underwear and shoes and can't afford them, period, and there's absolutely nothing we can do about this whole screwed up, stressful situation, which no matter how we try cannot but help place our new relationship under strain, as it is all in the hands of the IND, who are taking three times longer than advertised to complete a simple procedure.

Stamp a passport, that's literally all they need to do. But no, obviously waaaay too difficult. Oh, and I've called their helpline - ha! what a misnomer - and been told anything from "it should take six weeks maximum" (back in February) to "more than four months is not unusual" (today). I've asked if there could possibly be something wrong with my application - nothing apparently, as my caseworker would have contacted me by now. So what's the hold-up? The helpline staff cannot answer that question. They cannot transfer my call to the caseworker. I cannot speak to the caseworker or anyone of any actual goddamn *help* at all.

« « « « «

So. I'm going insane. I'm losing (or have lost) all confidence and belief in myself, my brain (as I said before, but hey, maybe mindless repetition is just a symptom) has turned to sludge and in my current state I doubt I could cope with a job anyway. And let's not get started on the whole health issue and how much of this is feeding into that, and vice versa.

I'm very very angry. This is not a good way to treat a human being, let alone someone who chose to move hemispheres to this berloody country, left everything behind, is vulnerable and out of place. Anyway today I kinda snapped and let some of this anger work for me instead of against - I've written one of my best politely vicious - or viciously polite, take your pick - letters to the Home Office, plus another to my local MP. I doubt very much if either will meet with any joy but at least I've done something.

« « « « «

And now I have to figure out what to make for dinner, when there's nothing in the fridge or pantry, and I don't have so much as a pound coin. Sigh. I hate to say it, but I really really wish I was back in Australia. At least it wouldn't be feckin' raining, as well.

« « « « «

previous          home           next