A Score Draw...
The most pressing concern, the most important thing going on in my life right now, is getting the extension of my visa. That might strike you as odd, but I can't jettison us (the Infant and Me) out of this from an unstable platform, or rather it might be possible but I'm just not made the right way to take that approach to life.
That said the application's in, the fee's paid, the HO has accepted my application. All's well. I just have to bide my time as the application wends its way through The System.
Except that this morning, and right as I was getting into my stride on the housework front the post arrived - one item, hand addressed but on a business envelope and from Sheffield (which is in the big Ooooop North for the benefit of the uninitiated). Needless to say I was intrigued. Then then I flipped the envelope to find a printed sticker return address that also 'rang bells'.
Inside a letter from the HO asking for an original of a document I was ready then to swear I'd sent to them with my application.
To a chorus of much blue language I dug out my 'file'; sifting through it I found the copies of the documents I'd included. At that point I rang the telephone number given and eventually (after much languishing against the kitchen cupboards to strains of Vivaldi) spoke to human being. After much explaining she put me on hold and when she came back she rather proudly announced that she'd spoken to the person who had written to me.
He was insisting that the document was not among the things I'd submitted but would call back. As it happens I was running out of time to get washed and dressed and up to work by this time; she said she'd get him to call me back tomorrow when I would be at home all day.
In the fullness of time I arrived at work to learn that the signatory had phoned work and would be phoning back in a while.
When he did, and to give him his due he did (and was polite), he insisted that the document he wanted was among the papers I'd sent and also not on the list of documents I'd given them.
I was equally insistant at I'd copied it along with all the other documents and sent the original. He told me not to panic, and if I couldn't find the original, send him a copy. The irony for me was that the document he wanted was the one piece of paper I could send him is actually HO issue.
Tonight and in less of a panic I've gone back through the papers and found the photocopy to send him - and then I've been through the papers one more time for luck and found the original.
Damn.
Still the little paper shuffler had three attempts within the first quarter of a page to spell my life correctly and got it correct once (in the salutation) - with two alternatives (in the address and the subject)
I might not be perfect but neither is he. This is called a score draw, I believe.
That said the application's in, the fee's paid, the HO has accepted my application. All's well. I just have to bide my time as the application wends its way through The System.
Except that this morning, and right as I was getting into my stride on the housework front the post arrived - one item, hand addressed but on a business envelope and from Sheffield (which is in the big Ooooop North for the benefit of the uninitiated). Needless to say I was intrigued. Then then I flipped the envelope to find a printed sticker return address that also 'rang bells'.
Inside a letter from the HO asking for an original of a document I was ready then to swear I'd sent to them with my application.
To a chorus of much blue language I dug out my 'file'; sifting through it I found the copies of the documents I'd included. At that point I rang the telephone number given and eventually (after much languishing against the kitchen cupboards to strains of Vivaldi) spoke to human being. After much explaining she put me on hold and when she came back she rather proudly announced that she'd spoken to the person who had written to me.
He was insisting that the document was not among the things I'd submitted but would call back. As it happens I was running out of time to get washed and dressed and up to work by this time; she said she'd get him to call me back tomorrow when I would be at home all day.
In the fullness of time I arrived at work to learn that the signatory had phoned work and would be phoning back in a while.
When he did, and to give him his due he did (and was polite), he insisted that the document he wanted was among the papers I'd sent and also not on the list of documents I'd given them.
I was equally insistant at I'd copied it along with all the other documents and sent the original. He told me not to panic, and if I couldn't find the original, send him a copy. The irony for me was that the document he wanted was the one piece of paper I could send him is actually HO issue.
Tonight and in less of a panic I've gone back through the papers and found the photocopy to send him - and then I've been through the papers one more time for luck and found the original.
Damn.
Still the little paper shuffler had three attempts within the first quarter of a page to spell my life correctly and got it correct once (in the salutation) - with two alternatives (in the address and the subject)
I might not be perfect but neither is he. This is called a score draw, I believe.
posted by Enyo @ 10:52 pm
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