Proving Myself

Yesterday I had a call from my case worker at DIMIA, or whatever they’re calling the immigration department these days. I’d been hoping to hear from them with a final ruling on my residency (a positive ruling of course), but instead he wanted to ask me some questions about my relationship with the Man. He seemed very suspicious because I’ve been to England twice in the last three years to visit my family, without the Man. Apparently, that’s super weird or something. He also asked me pointedly how I’d funded my travel. Like, I have a job! I don’t know what he was trying to imply. Maybe DIMIA don’t want immigrants who’ll earn decent salaries once they settle here. Anyway, instead of answering him coherently and confidently and setting him right on how ridiculous he was being over the travel thing, I decided I’d blather on nervously like a fool and tell him my life story. So that’s ok then!

He called again yesterday afternoon, telling me I need another police report from the UK. Because now I’ve spent over two months in the UK since my original application in 2005, and it’s quite possible that I’ve got myself a criminal record in that time. I expect he’ll call again today to assure me that his department will pay for this UK records check. I mean, the department surely can’t be expecting to bleed me dry, right?

I’ve been pretty upset since yesterday. It’s not nice to have someone, who has the power to kick me out of the country, call up and make insinuations about my relationship with the Man. I asked the Man how he felt about moving to Bristol, but he tells me I’m being silly. I suppose I shouldn’t let it worry me. But I am worried now.

So, this police records check was my cue to call my brother and ask him if I could have it sent to him. (The police won’t send it overseas, so how I’d manage if I didn’t have anyone in the UK I don’t know.) I hadn’t spoken to him since I visited him for a couple of days over Christmas, a visit which was very nearly disastrous, courtesy of his psycho girlfriend. Thank you, DIMIA, bringing families together! I told my brother about the phone call that had upset me, with their questions about if our relationship was genuine. “Well, is it?” said my brother.

I don’t know if he was joking. Though since my brother hasn’t had a sense of humour since attaining adulthood, he probably wasn’t. Honestly, I give up on my family sometimes. I don’t know if he’ll bother to e-mail me his address as I requested. Maybe his psycho girlfriend will make me jump through hoops (mental manipulation, emotional blackmail, torture by being talked-about-feelings to death being her specialities) before they’ll send it to me. Time to call my friends instead, I think!

What I really feel like doing is knocking off work early and going home to the tub of Sara Lee chocolate ice cream that’s in my freezer. What I’m going to do is go to the gym.