As long as you don’t judge it by its cover

Ush and I were ambling along the high street this afternoon on our way to the cinema and stepped into our favourite charity shop.  The one on the corner which we always have to stop in front of to see their latest treasures in the display window.

We browsed the “bric a brac” shelves, and Ush remembered he’d forgotten his glasses at home, so he went back to get them.  I perused their wall of overloaded bookshelves while I waited.  Cookbooks, gardening books, biographies, hundreds of novels… It’s overwhelming to me, actually, to have so many choices.  This is why I prefer smaller stores to department stores sometimes.  But anyway, I love buying books there. They’re never more than £1.50.

Just as Ush stepped back into the store, telling me that he caught Sadie red handed with her head in the kitchen bin,  I found a nearly new paperback copy of Captain Corelli’s Mandolin.

I first came across this book when a portion of it was read aloud at a friend’s wedding last summer.  It was beautiful and the loveliest reading I’d ever heard in a wedding ceremony.

After hearing of it then and subsequently seeing on it the BBC’s Big Read list (and not realising it was made into a film starring Penelope Cruz!), I knew I wanted to read it.  But even aside from that, the title really strongly appeals to me for some reason.  It’s mellifluous, and I find the word ‘mandolin’ so lovely, almost magical.

I also tend to judge a book by it’s opening paragraph.  I think it’s crucial that the author gets that first paragraph right, or the first sentence even, either by setting the scene, setting a tone, or grabbing your attention somehow.

And Louis de Bernieres doesn’t disappoint:

Dr Iannis had enjoyed a satisfactory day in which none of his patients had died or got any worse.  He had attended a surprisingly easy calving, lanced one abscess, extracted  a molar, dosed one lady of easy virtue with  Salvarsan, performed an unpleasant but spectacularly fruitful enema, and  had produced a miracle by  a feat of medical prestidigitation.

Don’t know about you, but I’m well and truly grabbed!

Update (shmupdate?)

Here’s the update Ush posted on Facebook, after visiting the solicitor and spending a few days letting reality sink in…

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So – we saw a solicitor. Very ‘interesting’, bright, funny, blunt lady – and obviously good.

The crux of it:
She would fight for us and scream and shout and yell if that’s what we wanted. But she said that that could take months and in her experience wouldn’t have a positive outcome for a long time. In the meanwhile we would be separated and lose a LOT of money from lack of work, rent, her fees, etc etc etc.

Have to make the choice of “making a point” and “making a stand” OR “getting it fixed”

The quickest way to get it fixed is to keep schtum, Steph go to the the USA, reapply and restart her 2 years temp visa again.

She also said that our situation really isn’t THAT bad and has a lot of “ifs” in it. “If Steph had nowhere to go in the USA she would be homeless” (but she does) – “If I had no savings I would be screwed” (But I do) – “if we had a bastard landlord” (we don’t) – “if our jobs weren’t with good bosses” (They’re great). All of that stands against us making an argument, and that makes sense really – we can’t base our case on ifs………..

“your honor – IF I was raped then this would be illegal!!!!”
“That’s true – sorry I rule in favour of the defendant – regardless that it was consentual”

It wouldn’t work. Add to that it’s our fault for forgetting. The govt didn’t stop us. They gave us rules and we forgot to adhere to them.

She said about another client of hers:
“A 55year old woman from Zimbabwe, she has HIV and breast cancer. Escaped the regime there, having lost her entire family to the AIDS epidemic, and is here helping the UK government by participating in experimental treatments. And the Home Office is trying to deport her!!”
Now THAT is an injustice. Not 2 middle class people with a great life who forgot to renew their Visa.

[Note: after Ush's first post, quite a few of our friends suggested writing to the newspapers and/or to our local MPs to highlight this problem]
About going to the papers – bad idea as it would bring to light that we were working illegally for 4 months and they would only do it so that they can sell papers. About MP – bad idea unless the MP knows a lot about immigration issues – if they don’t, then they can (and have in the past) make it worse for the people involved.
As the solicitor said “Save it all for your memoirs”.

So we’re getting the paperwork together now. We’ll probably be down almost £5000 by the end of it. But hey on the bright side, Steph gets a nice long break with her parents.

It DOES still suck that there isn’t a quick fix, and that we have to do this. I STILL think it’s a disgrace. But when you look at it the way she did we can’t risk dragging this out for a year and then still getting a negative result. (See – if you’re rich then anything is possible – we could have dragged this out as long as we wanted!)

Dog walkers required!

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So, there you have it.

Most, if not all, positivity or optimism you might glean from his post is sarcastic or just the admission of defeat. Ush is disappointed, and sad. Fair enough. He’s the one being left behind, being stuck on his own as the one who has to take care of the household and the pets and the bills, etc. All without his wife, partner, lover, best friend. Truly, this whole situation is worse for him than me.

I suppose I recognised straight away that this isn’t a tragedy, that it could have been much worse. This isn’t something that anyone did TO me. Putting up a fight and making a big stink just didn’t make sense to me. (Though I am grateful that I have a husband who fights for me, and friends who will be in our corner too.) It’s a mistake that I made, and so I have to deal with the consequences. I’m just really sorry that Ush has to suffer for it too, but I guess that’s what you sign up for when you commit to someone in marriage. The good times and the bad, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health…

So, in the meantime, my employer is working with me and doing whatever they can to ensure that I’m ok and that they can keep me. That’s all I’ll say about that, at least until after the new visa comes through. They’re blessing me beyond the call of duty.

I’m going back to see the lawyer tomorrow to bring her some paperwork and such for the application and statements. That should all be completed in 2-3 weeks, and I will go back to the States somewhere around mid-May and submit the application. It will take anywhere from 6weeks to 3 months.

During which I get to be at home with my family! Aside from being separated from my love and my furry babies (which makes my heart ache), there is really no downside to this. So, it’s very VERY bittersweet.

Someday we’ll look back on this and… laugh? Maybe?

so very Stepford

Well, the Easter weekend has come and gone!  (I heard someone yesterday say Happy Wester! That made me giggle )

Everyone went back to work today, except me of course.  Even though I wasn’t able to go to work, I still felt quite guilty about it for some reason.  Like I was playing hookey.  (Or bunking off, as they say here.)

Thinking this through last night as I was getting ready for bed, I determined that I would use the day as fully as possible, to tackle some of the chores and projects that I normally struggle to get through because of my 9to5.  Since I’m somewhat prone to procrastination and blissful idleness, I knew I’d need a Plan.

Step 1:  Make a list of the things I want to get done and resolve to accomplish at least 6/10 list items.  (List created, resolution made!)

Step 2:  Since Ush probably won’t wake me up when he leaves for work, set an alarm.  (He didn’t, so I did. 8am. Work commenced at 8:35am.)
Step 2a:  Don’t bother taking a shower. It only leads to dressing and primping, which are timewasters. (Glad to oblige!)

Step 3:  Do NOT turn on the TV.  In fact, don’t sit down on the couch either.  (I sat down on the couch only to eat my lunch – a sandwich.  Lunch eaten, I stood up and carried on with the List.)

Step 4:  Limit Internet use: only allow computer time upon completion of a major list item or multiple small list items. (I’ve managed! It helps that FB and Twitter aren’t as active during the day as they are in the evenings.)

The Plan worked pretty darn well!  It’s now 3:30pm and I put away 1/2 ton of clean laundry that was in piles all over the house, did two further loads of laundry, cleaned the kitchen, generally tidied and then vacuumed the whole house (including nooks and crannies), dusted, ran & emptied the dishwasher, walked the dogs, ran some errands, and weeded & mowed the lawn!

The only FAIL of the day was locking myself out of the house.   For the first time EVER, I didn’t check that my pocket jingled before pulling the door shut.  Thankfully, this happened while I was on my way out to run errands, so I had my phone and purse with me.  And also thankfully, my mother in law was on her way home, only an hour away, so I went about my errands until she arrived to let me back in with a spare set of keys.  Could’ve been worse – at least she was nearby and it wasn’t rainy and horrible!

So, now that I’m a bit green and itchy from the grass/weeds/etc, I think I will go have that shower.  And plan what to have for dinner tonight.

If I’m not careful, I could get quite used to this whole housewife thing!!!

Immigrant Shmimmigrant

Alright, I wasn’t going to get into this because it’s Easter and I’ve been looking forward to this 4-day weekend for some time and just wanted to keep things bright and sunny.   But events may unfold such that big changes will have to be made and I’ll need to explain then anyway, so might as well do it now.

In case you haven’t read Ush’s note on Facebook, here’s his explanation of what happened:

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So here is a timeline to explain this succinctly – seeing Facebook only allows me to tag a few of you – don’t take it rudely if I couldn’t tag you.

Nov 08 – My mum injures herself badly. Moves in with Steph and myself for 2 weeks. Super Ali to the rescue. She moves home but Steph does her shopping errands till mid December

Late Dec – Steph flies out to USA for Christmas, plus her grandparents are getting on and it may be the last chance to see them.  Flies out 25th Dec, comes back 5th Jan.

Feb 08 – My dad is critically ill. Visiting him at hospital all the time. He dies.

March – build up to funeral
Mid March- Funeral

April – After months of househunting, we finally find a flat we love. Let’s put everything behind us and get a mortgage.
When getting ready to sign the mortgage – We notice that Steph’s visa ran out on 22nd Dec 08.

When she went on holiday on Dec 25th – they must have thought she was leaving the country for good – and when she returned on Jan 5th – they must have thought she was coming here for a holiday.

Steph had a Spousal “Limited Leave to Remain” visa when we got married in 2006. It’s to weed out the people who are getting married for convenience (so we were told in 2006).
Then 2 years later you can apply for an “Indefinite Leave to Remain” from any time from 1 month before expiry. That is your only window of opportunity. The new visa allows you to stay for forever.
Due to the list of issues we have had above – we completely forgot. Were we trying to scam the system? NO. We had an oversight.

Now as it stands
Good solicitor has stated that Steph has to
a) stop working as it’s illegal
b) leave the country
c) reapply for a new visa
d) wait for it to come through (we’re told 6weeks absolute minimum)
e) then return

Meanwhile – I have to be on my own.
Steph has to leave her WHOLE life behind.
She has to quit a job she loves.
I pay a rent I can’t afford.
I live a life I shouldn’t have to live. Cut into my savings to keep afloat on one income. Therefore lose a lot of chances of ever buying a house.
How long till she can get back? Probably 2-6 months.
And then the last few years are forgotten and she starts again on a temp visa again.

We’ll see what the solicitors say – but noone has given a different opinion as yet.

ALL this because we forgot to get a stamp on a passport.  If I didn’t have savings and Steph didn’t have her parents, we would both be living on the street.

What annoys me more is that she was never reminded by the Home Office to renew – never asked “Why are you still paying Income Tax?”.  Nothing.  I know it’s our fault – but this isn’t a crime – it’s a mistake and we’re gonna pay for this REALLY hard. Didn’t even cross our mind – to all intents and purposes Steph feels like a Brit now. When your dad is dying and your mother is ill and your grandparents may not make it, you don’t think about passports. Obviously not – I guess that should have been at the top of my list.

Steph = hardworking, never default on savings, tax, NI, no sick leave etc etc. Typical sponging immigrant it seems.

It’s one rule for all illegal immigrants it seems regardless of situation. ffs.

So for the next year I’ll be “broke” – but hey that’s not hard to deal with – spend less. I’ll need to find dog walkers in the day. I’ll need to stop wanting to buy a house as our deposit is gonna get hit hard.
And
I have my wife stolen from me.

Thanks UK for nothing. Oh.  And for protecting me so well from terrorists and immigrants.

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Right, so he’s quite angry as you can see.  He wrote this no more than 24 hours after we realised our mistake and began taking action to try to rectify things.

We dug out my passport on Wednesday night, and the next morning began calling around to various organisations and immigration lawyers to try to find out where we stood.  We also phoned my boss to tell him what happened.

I should clarify, in case it’s not clear – as a result of the visa expiry, I’m not here in the country illegally… USA passport holders can be in the UK without a visa (aka – on holiday) for up to 6 months.  I’ve just been working illegally since the visa expired.  Which would lead one to surmise that this could be just as big of a problem for my employer.

This is where we have been truly blessed because the situation could’ve been A LOT worse (they were well within their rights to fire me on the spot).   After speaking with my boss and meeting with him that afternoon, he’d assured me they would hold my job, could possibly arrange for me to continue working remotely (ah, the age of broadband – anything is possible!) and be reimbursed for it later when this mess is over, and he had also found an excellent immigration lawyer and arranged a meeting.

So anyway, since Ush’s post, we’ve had a huge response from friends showing their support and offering to help in any way they can, which is all SO appreciated.

I’m still not sure how I feel about the whole thing yet.   Being who I am because of the way I was raised, my reaction (after the initial anger and self-loathing) is:  I made a mistake, so I have to accept the consequences and do what they tell me to do.  It’s not in my nature to argue against that, to fight for another course of action.

Thankfully, my husband is the activist in this family.  He’s going to do all he can to keep me here.  To get them to look at our situation as extenuating circumstances, an unintentional oversight.  The mistake is ours and we’re not denying that.  But we are clearly not a couple trying to screw the system in any way shape or form – we support ourselves without help from the government, we pay our taxes, National Insurance, bills, etc.. We were even trying to do our bit to boost the economy by getting a mortgage!

Will the Home Office be at all interested in hearing our side of the story?  We shall see.

I’ll update you after our meeting with the solicitor this week…

Storytime

When I was a kid, staying at G&G Moss’ house, I’d ask Grandma to tell me a story every night before bedtime. I can vividly remember sleeping in “the little room” on one of the two twin beds, buried under blankets and hearing crickets outside. She’d sit on the side of my bed and never ever refused my request – sometimes it was a true story, sometimes made up – the choice was mine.

I loved hearing stories about her when she was a little girl, and for some reason, specifically stories about when she’d gotten hurt and could show me the scar to prove it. Falling off a bike, scrapes from a barbed wire fence, and other wild and free antics that were the norm before the times of bicycle helmets and fenced-in backyards. Seems a bit odd when I think of it now – my fascination with her injuries – but I suppose I just enjoyed relating to her as someone who was once my age, someone who was once vulnerable and unsure and breakable. Because she was certainly none of those things to me then! She was strong, certain, and capable.

And I’m always thankful that, 20 years later, she still is!

Thankful that my 80+ year old Grandma and Grandpa are still well and making a difference in the lives of all those they see every day.

If I can follow in their footsteps even in the smallest measure, then I have achieved something great.

And in at least one respect, I’m already on my way… I have a smooth circular scar on my elbow and a bumpy one on my knee from a glorious crash on my bike, a scar on my finger from when a metal filing instrument took a big chunk of skin and left me dripping blood onto the desk, scar tissue in my big toe from when I dislocated it such that part of my toe was sticking straight up perpendicular to the floor, and a mystery scar on the front of my thigh that could’ve been caused by any number of experiences. Great storytelling material, that is.

romans seven fifteen

I’ve long despised the existence of greed, believed it is at the root of practically every conceivable problem in the world.  Every evil.  The eradication of greed would bring us to world peace.

And while those feelings are genuine and valid, sometimes I wonder worry if I’m actually just secretly jealous of all that I want but can’t have because of others’ greed.

The biggest receiver of my righteous wrath right now is the banks.  I’m no economist and I don’t pretend to really understand what’s going on in and around this recession.  But as far as I can tell, the British government is trying pretty damn hard to grease the economic gears, to get banks loaning and people spending.  They’ve brought the base rate down to almost nothing.

And this is where I start to get really REALLY angry…

Instead of passing on these lower rates to help out consumers of all shapes and sizes, bank bosses are holding on to their cash more tightly than ever.  Everyone’s all, Woo! House prices are falling! Now’s the time to buy!
And the crooked banks are all, Yes, come and buy! But we’ll be tossing you out the door on your bum unless you’ve got at least a 15% deposit.  And if you’re fortunate enough to have 30-50k sitting around, then we’re still going to tear you a new one with ridiculously high interest rates just to make sure that we stay as rich as possible.

-sigh-

This post was meant to be a reflective and soulsearching discussion about society, the world, and my place in both.

But instead I’m just going to wave my middle finger at The Man and say, Bite me.

(…until the anger inevitably wears me out…)

And then I will remind myself that my husband and I are so very fortunate.  Our families are so fortunate.  We have SO MUCH compared to our proverbial neighbors down the proverbial street.  We have too much compared to our neighbors in {insert the name of any third world country}.

(I bet some of them are rightly waving their middle fingers at me!)

And I will thank the Lord for looking after us, for keeping our hearts soft and our eyes open, for meeting our needs beyond what we actually need!!  I will beg Him to  continue to mold me – to drive out my envy, my desire for more, my greed. I want to make better use of my blessings, rather than putting them towards more things for me.

I want to always remember – as keenly as you’d feel a smack upside the head – that I already have everything I’ve ever truly wanted:  a wonderful family, a fantastic husband, great friends, a nice place to live, a job that pays well and gives me a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment… And so many bonuses.

You can’t really ask for more than that.

Territorial much?

In the park, two kids are kicking a ball back and forth.
“Dude, look, that dog just peed on that man!”

That dog was Toby.

And that man was Ush.

And that woman a few feet away, doubled over on the ground and laughing so hard she could barely breathe? That was me.

I guess Toby just wanted to make sure that all of the other doggies in the park knew that this was HIS person.