”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.