Indefinitely, Maybe..?

The goverment today awarded Yuko "Indefinite leave to remain in the UK." What a relief.

For all that we've heard about the tightening up of immigration controls in Britain, it seemed a remarkably straighforward - if pedantic - process. We arrived early in the morning at the fortress-like home office of the Home Office in Glasgow, and passed through initial security without incident. Then we were frisked electronically and searched. The security man took a long look at the Bible in my bag, and turned to me confidentially. "We're not going to go through the Tribulation, you know," he said.

"I think you must know more about it than I do," I replied.

"Some of them will. Some of them will..," he said mysteriously, ushering us through into the principal 'holding area' for visa-applicants. We took in the scene around us.

You could tell immediately who was who: the Brit in each couple held the sheaf of papers and did the talking, while the outsider sat tight and looked scared. If things went wrong in the next 2 hours, they could be heading for home.

"Look them straight in the eye," I told Yuko. "Tell them who you are and what you're here for, and we'll have no problem."

"I'm wearing my wedding ring," she answered. That was bound to make it alright.

Waiting Time at present is 0 minutes... the L.E.D. display on the wall flashed up with evident pride in its own efficiency. ...There are currently 0 people waiting... About 12 people sat and waited.

Soon the announcement came: Ticket holder no.509 - please proceed to window no.5.

After all the efforts we'd made to get the necessary documentation to prove our solvency, it was somewhat frustrating to see the very pleasant staff member give our papers hardly a glance. We'd been told we'd have to prove that we really were married too, and that we were a bona fide husband and wife. "What on earth are they going to get us to do?" Yuko had asked me. The mind boggles...

In the end it was all over in a flash. Yuko didn't have to swear she liked fish & chips. I didn't even have to profess my undying love for my wife. We were asked: "Have you got the 500 pounds statutory fee?" Clearly this was what really mattered. "Oh yes," I said, flashing my plastic bribe.

We sat for about another hour as various photocopies were made of things we'd brought along, and other 'relevant' papers were shuffled. And then that was it. The stamp was there. Indefinite, said Yuko's passport. Leave to remain, and leave to leave. The price you pay for freedom.

500 quid lighter [yes, 500 - I thought it was steep too, but of course, she's worth every penny...], we returned to security. As we departed into the Glasgow drizzle, the guard gave me another knowing wink. Today's tribulation hadn't been so bad after all.