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Day 321

DAY 321

It had never been my life‘s ambition
To bring into fruition
More than one nationality
Now I am going for number three
(If you count East Germany )

You will not believe it
I got married today
In a snowflake flurry
To the Isle of Theresa May

We have been courting
For 25 years
Mutually supporting
Each other as peers

We shared many a sandwich
We did not need stealth
I learned your language
And helped with your health

The last 18 months have been very hard
As somehow you refused to play your part
I thought we‘d agreed to stay together
Facing the worse and the better

We have come to an agreement
That allows me to vote
To voice my opinion
And For you to take note

From today I am British
I am happy to say
I no longer feel skittish
About being able to stay

The ceremony was respectful
To the seven of us
Who boarded successful
The citizen bus

They gave us some  shortbread
And a wee cup of tea
Then we left city chambers
Deportation anxiety free

There is still a chance that we may part
You are asking why?
Well- there is the issue of Scotland
For a start


Citizenship application approved

They sent me a letter

It was very brief

Do I feel better?

It is a relief

After months of agonising

And using gin for tranquillising

It is just sinking in

I can now join my kin

At the polling station

For the next election in this nation

I am happy to say

I was given the right to stay

I am happy and sad

Because Brexit is quite mad

It makes no sense and us Europeans feel bad

It makes us have to chose

If our current place we don’t want to lose

I hope it turns out alright

For anyone who wants to join-

That they might

For me

A day to remember

the 6th of November



I have no face


I have no face
I’m just a number
Where is my place
In Britain‘s Brexit blunder?
I want to go home
But where do I belong?
I came in the 90s from a country
That does no longer exist
It went to be united
With the part that was not communist
Is home by the Baltic Sea
Or in the mountains
Where I love to ski?
Or is it on an island out west
Where Gaelic put my English to the test?
I was welcomed there
Young and green
To live and work in Scotland
I was very keen
I loved to ceilidh dance
That and hill walking led to romance
25 years on and 3 children later
I am still here
And felt I belong
But obviously I was wrong 
Thought I was so smart
When I received my residency card
Had given the details of
22 years of whereabouts
Of when I was in the country and out
Only to come back from a week away
To find I have 3 days to say
Here is more proof
That in this country was my roof
I the 5 years past-
I really am aghast!
The process is set to achieve
That Europeans give up and leave
After paying 2000 pound
Which often can not easily be found
I am just a number
I have no name
The sad thing is
For many ‚vote leave‘ was just a game

2 months on

”Those who already have permanent residence will have to reapply although the process will be as “streamlined” as possible.”- This is the statement that propels me to put down some more musings. Musing is possibly not the right word- because I am not  in a state of contemplation or reflection or deliberation or rarely in celebration. I am bloody angry. I wish somebody would be brave enough to say: Let’s stop cutting our nose to spite our face.

After passing the language test I went to Dunfermline and lodged my citizenship application, paid my fee of £1282 and was told the process takes 4-6 months.  Three weeks later I received a letter sending me to a specialist post office- this time in Dundee to have my biometrics taken- finger prints that is. Imagine my relief when the person behind the counter told me the machine had just got fixed 10 minutes ago. £19.95 later and I was wondering what if I had gotten somehow on the Interpol wanted list? This was followed by quiet hope when the passport office sent me a text the next day telling me  by 24th June I would know if they either wanted more information or required me to come for interview or I would get my passport be then. I could not decide if the date had been chosen as commemoration of the Brexit vote date the year before or tied in somehow with my birthday. But surely the Home Office would not be that considerate to me personally- and it was not. Each day I drove home in quiet anticipation- Would my shiny British passport be waiting for me? (That is assuming I am allowed to join the nation and am not on the Interpol wanted list or not working hard enough in the NHS). But it was not. Imagine when the bell rang on my birthday and I lept to the door expecting the postie in his red polo shirt- and it was a friend- bringing me FLOWERS!

It is Monday today, the anticipated date passed and now I have read: ”Those who already have permanent residence will have to reapply although the process will be as “streamlined” as possible.”

Am I really back to the beginning? I feel my blood pressure going the same way as my stress level. I must admit I did look at at job adverts in Germany last week and am starting to wonder when this home will start to feel not like home anymore.



Whilst I was waiting

The TV showed the debating

Of the 27 EU states

Who are no longer Britain’s mates

They agreed for the negotiations (of)

Brexit to be ‘firm and fair’

Will things be less up in the air?

Money Britain needs to pay and

Allow European citizens to stay-

Then they took me into the examination patch

Locked away my Fitbit and watch

Rolled up my sleeves again

To see there was nothing written on my arms in pen

In another room airy and bright

My passport went under a light

To see if it was true

And my photograph was taken too

I had to count to ten twice

And show behind my ear was no hidden device

Whilst waiting for my interview call

I studied the world map on the wall

Little gems showed all the places

People had come from for examination of their language cases

The exam itself felt like a very nice chat

We talked about my life in Scotland and that

About skiing and Perth

And gave the Brexit topic a wide berth

The 10 minutes went quick

We got through the topics very slick

It felt almost like talking to a friend

Who with gladly time you spend

From the other room I collected my stuff

And hoped her marking would not be too tough

But hey hey hey

She gave me an ‘A’

I will add this document new

To my citizenship papers and

Attempt submission round two

Now I am back on the train

Just passing Dunblane



Back to Glasgow on the train

Beautiful countryside

Going past Dunblane

Here I go for another test

When can I give it a rest?

Now I am going to prove I speak the lingo

I have only once participated in bingo

But that is numbers in rhyme

I prefer rhyming words anytime

I have learnt about first pass the post

Become an expert at cooking a Sunday roast

And also learnt to love beans on toast

Don’t worry I will not bore you with dishes

I can demonstrate my ability talking even about fishes

I can talk about depression and anxiety

Or about parties and sobriety

My topic shall be my Scottish life

Which is mostly without strife

At least it was before Brexit

You already know I don’t want to exit

Even at school I loved learning other tongues

Finding out about words and songs

I find it quite compelling

To be correct in the art of spelling

I know when to use a hyphen or dash and manage not to make a language hash

Off I go- it has to be done

This is the end of part one


What will you do on Saturday?

Only some people know today what they will be doing on Saturday. I am one of them. I will be sitting an English language test. I am angry and frustrated – not only there was no plan for Brexit- there is also no empathy or consideration for European citizens who have found themselves to be in the position to apply for citizenship. Note my use of English after almost 25 years in Britain, working in the NHS in a very language based job is excellent. Yet I will have to sit a GCSE type exam to prove I can speak the lingo. I have sat extensive exams and have supportive statements from the GMC and the Royal College of Psychiatrists- which count for nothing.  I am very frustrated and disheartened by the process.

I might submit my blog to the Home Office with my application- but unfortunately I do not think anybody will care.