Permanent Wife to Remain

It happened with such ease that I wonder in hindsight what all of the fuss was about. Yes, the 35-page form took hours to complete—and oddly enough I originally signed the wrong name (well, I’ve had my maiden name far longer than my married one) and had to re-print the page, wondering if the case worker would notice and think it odd. I did take great care to organise the required documents in good order, attaching the Documents checklist provided by the UKBA and ticking all the boxes to indicate what was clipped. Photographs were placed in a small, sealed envelope attached exactly as requested. It was a rather nice, neat package I delivered into the hands of the receptionist, after a very short wait for our number (208—at 10:30 am; makes you wonder what number they start at). For the rest of the process you’re known as that number, and monitors at various places in the office give you an indication of where you are in the queue.

I did have to be re-fingerprinted so that I could be checked against the current criminal databases while my application awaited consideration. Tim sat patiently in the waiting area—spouses are intended to come along or give written notice that is notarised as to why they cannot. At the biometrics desk I was told the wait for the return of my fingerprint check would be about an hour, give or take. (You may recall last time I waited four and then was told to go home because the systems crashed. So much for having paid a premium for a same-day decision!)

We seemed to move quite quickly on the monitors from Awaiting Biometrics Verification to Awaiting Consideration to Under Consideration—in fact I’d barely had time to transfer birthdays and other events from my 2013 diary to my newly-purchased 2014 edition when number 208 blipped off the Under Consideration list where we’d been idling for about 20 minutes with at least two dozen other applications. I only panicked momentarily—the blip could only mean two things—either we were swiftly processed or swiftly declined for my settlement request.

The walk to Counter 44 was short, and there were several of us gathering . . . I gave my number slip to the receptionist who matter-of-factly said that the application was successful and handed me a letter I should read, and stated that my residence permit would arrive in 10 working days. Done. Simples. In less than three hours I had indefinite leave to remain, no questions asked (well, outside the form of course, and the supporting documents covering wages, bank accounts, and other proof of marriage).

The settlement visa—really just a credit-card sized plastic card with a microchip holding my fingerprints and a face scan—would need to be delivered via courier. Same-day decision for your extra £300, but not the paper to travel out of the country (though the letter would have likely gained me re-admittance). Having missed the first delivery attempt the next day, I rearranged for a day I could work from home, and having not paid the additional fee for a certain time period I knew that it wouldn’t arrive much before 5 pm. Itwas closer to 2 pm, in fact. There it was, proof I had indefinite leave to remain . . .

Or not? The little plastic card has an expiry date in 2023. Hmmm . . . I sense an application fee for renewal will be required. I suspect, though haven’t been able to confirm, that as my passport will also expire in about that time that the two are somehow linked. That and in 10 years’ time I will look nothing like the embedded scan and would have a new passport photo taken as well.

This isn’t citizenship, friends; it’s just the right to remain to live and work in the United Kingdom. It does mean that I can stay of my own right, not tied to a specific job or even a specific spouse, though I do intend to hold on to the latter. Tim has become fond of calling me his Permanent Wife to Remain. It’s catchy. I like it.