So, this is a picture of me on Monday, holding my fat pack of documents and photos and bills and forms and stuff, all serious and windswept and big of hair. I took the photo quickly cos a big rabble of prickly lads was busy emptying itself from the Sports Bar next to NZ House.
Inside this pouch is the key to our future. It's taken five months to assemble and I've been absolutely meticulous in putting it together. Along the way we've found out that no, neither of us has anything approaching a criminal record; yes, all the authorities and officials are on the take at every opportunity; and yes, I do have the well-trained body of a long-distance runner (the doctor doing my medical said so!). The chap at Immigration was really helpful and checked it all through saying it all looked in order.
Inside this pouch is the key to our future. It's taken five months to assemble and I've been absolutely meticulous in putting it together. Along the way we've found out that no, neither of us has anything approaching a criminal record; yes, all the authorities and officials are on the take at every opportunity; and yes, I do have the well-trained body of a long-distance runner (the doctor doing my medical said so!). The chap at Immigration was really helpful and checked it all through saying it all looked in order.
Imagine my surprise and disgust, then, to find, only four days later, and only a few short minutes after my file was handed to a case worker for processing, that one of the forms is bloody wrong! And as it involves Rach having to get her fingerprints done at New Scotland Yard, and then sending off to Australia for another police certificate - which will take a couple of months - I might have to sharpen my biro and fill in forms (and cheques) all over again?!
Hoping for better news on Monday when I find out what this all means and whether we have to start all over again...
Hoping for better news on Monday when I find out what this all means and whether we have to start all over again...
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