"For in this world I'm bound to ramble"
Jul. 5th, 2005 07:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
urocyonThis year, the Fourth wasn't spent huddling in air-conditioning and eating fried chicken (with much carping about turning on the stove in the middle of the day), emerging at dusk to battle mosquitoes and reflect--once again--on what a shame it was that the local Jaycees couldn't stay away from the bottle long enough, a few years ago, not to blow multiple fingers off multiple hands with the fireworks display. Even watching every third rocket head into the trees on the other side of the river--not the best thing in a Virginia summer--was more amusing than the pathetic display put on by the people the city is paying to do it now, with at least three times the actual bang. Maybe the day is interrupted by a dash with the hose to revive the wilting garden or the like, and I did spend it, rather coincidentally, one year whitewater rafting with a guy who didn't bother to mention beforehand that he couldn't swim. But, in all, it tends to be a rather boring bank holiday sort of experience. Yesterday, I could have used more predictablity (and potato salad, come to think of it).
Instead, we had the joy of getting up at 6:00 to don our best thoroughly boring middle-class drag and head for Central London, for an immigration hearing. If the scheduling irony was unintentional, someone deserves a hefty Humorless Government Employee bonus.
We took a cab from Liverpool Street station, and wound up being there half an hour early. I wasn't sure why AIT even bothered having security guards working the door. Ingvar got hand-scanned and, I think, patted down, but my highly reactive bag was apparently okey-dokey since the guard didn't see an ICBM poking out of it. (I also noticed this phenomenon later, at the London Eye.)
After we headed upstairs, and spent a few minutes standing in line, it turned out that my name was not on the list. The assistant spent a minute with a terminal, and informed us that someone had apparently cancelled the hearing. We were deluded into thinking that, just perhaps, someone at AIT had come to their senses and realised that we didn't actually need a hearing (without documentation in hand, no less, since the IND has it again), given that the case is supposedly being reconsidered by IND--and we were specifically told, in writing, that the appeal was, therefore, void. The assistant also informed us that AIT had sent out a letter on the Friday before the Monday, informing us that we didn't need to be there.
So, we were pleased enough, and headed off to do something more interesting with the couple of hours before lunchtime. After peering at the planned restaurant's opening hours, we veered off and did touristy things, going on the London Eye and also managing to show up well before the IMAX cinema was open. Lots of wandering on approximately an hour's sleep (for me), but a pleasant day. I snoozed off on the train on the way home--the last nail was probably the huge margarita with lunch--and tried to get off three stops early, confused after being nudged.
The AIT letter in question did show up today, right before![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vatine went off to work late shift. It turns out that whoever scanned it must have a serious problem with reading comprehension; my "Hello, what is going on with my case, and aren't you talking to the Home Office?" letter was interpreted as an "I want to cancel the appeal". I suppose now, just to be safe, I'll need to follow it up with an affirmation that I have never intended to waive my right to appeal. Otherwise, some similar genius is likely to interpret things in just that manner, and it'll be a hassle if the IND's new decision goes against us.
Yep, I have had too many dealings with U.S. Social Security. Ingvar still seems surprised at the levels of, put mildly, inefficiency.
It is looking very much like time to stop playing jailhouse lawyer in an only half-familiar system, and find a solicitor after all. It seemed less pressing after we got the closest equivalent to an "oops, we screwed up" letter from IND, but this is just dragging on beyond the point of the absurd. Having both IND and AIT to deal with now is a bit much.
In other "news", I seem to be due more than a few English Acclimation Points. This afternoon, I hiked to Sainsbury's with a jacket and an umbrella, then came home and put on a pot of stew. It only struck me while I was actually enjoying the warmth coming off the pot, and half-huddling around it, that this is unusual behavior for early July. *chuckle*
Instead, we had the joy of getting up at 6:00 to don our best thoroughly boring middle-class drag and head for Central London, for an immigration hearing. If the scheduling irony was unintentional, someone deserves a hefty Humorless Government Employee bonus.
We took a cab from Liverpool Street station, and wound up being there half an hour early. I wasn't sure why AIT even bothered having security guards working the door. Ingvar got hand-scanned and, I think, patted down, but my highly reactive bag was apparently okey-dokey since the guard didn't see an ICBM poking out of it. (I also noticed this phenomenon later, at the London Eye.)
After we headed upstairs, and spent a few minutes standing in line, it turned out that my name was not on the list. The assistant spent a minute with a terminal, and informed us that someone had apparently cancelled the hearing. We were deluded into thinking that, just perhaps, someone at AIT had come to their senses and realised that we didn't actually need a hearing (without documentation in hand, no less, since the IND has it again), given that the case is supposedly being reconsidered by IND--and we were specifically told, in writing, that the appeal was, therefore, void. The assistant also informed us that AIT had sent out a letter on the Friday before the Monday, informing us that we didn't need to be there.
So, we were pleased enough, and headed off to do something more interesting with the couple of hours before lunchtime. After peering at the planned restaurant's opening hours, we veered off and did touristy things, going on the London Eye and also managing to show up well before the IMAX cinema was open. Lots of wandering on approximately an hour's sleep (for me), but a pleasant day. I snoozed off on the train on the way home--the last nail was probably the huge margarita with lunch--and tried to get off three stops early, confused after being nudged.
The AIT letter in question did show up today, right before
vatine went off to work late shift. It turns out that whoever scanned it must have a serious problem with reading comprehension; my "Hello, what is going on with my case, and aren't you talking to the Home Office?" letter was interpreted as an "I want to cancel the appeal". I suppose now, just to be safe, I'll need to follow it up with an affirmation that I have never intended to waive my right to appeal. Otherwise, some similar genius is likely to interpret things in just that manner, and it'll be a hassle if the IND's new decision goes against us.Yep, I have had too many dealings with U.S. Social Security. Ingvar still seems surprised at the levels of, put mildly, inefficiency.
It is looking very much like time to stop playing jailhouse lawyer in an only half-familiar system, and find a solicitor after all. It seemed less pressing after we got the closest equivalent to an "oops, we screwed up" letter from IND, but this is just dragging on beyond the point of the absurd. Having both IND and AIT to deal with now is a bit much.
In other "news", I seem to be due more than a few English Acclimation Points. This afternoon, I hiked to Sainsbury's with a jacket and an umbrella, then came home and put on a pot of stew. It only struck me while I was actually enjoying the warmth coming off the pot, and half-huddling around it, that this is unusual behavior for early July. *chuckle*
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Date: 2005-07-05 08:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-05 08:36 pm (UTC)Irony? Getting called to the immigration office on King George III's birthday- him being one of the only British monarchs who couldn't speak English, what with being Hanoverian and all. No, no irony in that.
Oh, wait. You mean with Mssrs. Hancock et al. deciding to sign the Declaration of Independence on said king's birthday, and you emigrating from that rebellious colony.