2004 - My Favourite Year

So we drove to Manchester Airport early today because Stacey had to fly back to the States. 

None of us want her to go obviously. Not me, our son Vince, my family, our friends, relatives and cousins to whom she's cool Aunt Stacey. Just the small fact that because she's not from round here the Government says she's gotta go.  

Vince and I had a good dad & lad day in the North West for a couple of hours afterwards, well as much fun as you can have when your hearts broken into 18,600 pieces and you can't tell your son when his momma is coming back. 

So back to being a jobless temporary single parent for the time being. This does remind me of the last time a year started so inauspiciously, exactly 10 years ago in fact, so indulge me while I recollect how 2004 turned out to be the best year of my life. 

I began the year much like this one bathing in the ashes of personal defeat. I had just come back from a mostly agreeable New Years Eve party with my friends in Bicester that unfortunately, for me, culminated in seeing my former fiance from six months previously snogging her new boyfriend. I went back to our, now my house, and took it out on the less expensive and replaceable kitchen equipment. 

I needed a change of scene and as luck would have it, I was able to join my parents on a trip to Oman, where my dad was working at the time. 10 days of sun, beaches and the secluded silence you only get in the Mountains was as good a place to take stock as any. 

As it turns out the trip was exactly what I needed. A chance to recuperate and take stock, mentally as well as physically. Being able to run at a higher altitude in a higher heat or work out in an air conditioned gym,  catch up on movies at home, eat the finest Indian food I've ever tasted - mainly thanks to the Indian expat community just over the gulf from home - a chance to take in some genuine Arabic culture and catch up on sleep.  

I mean real sleep, I have never slept as deeply or as well as I did in the Desert, going to sleep and waking up naturally, getting over eight hours every night, I felt like Superman waking up every morning. I enjoyed swimming in the sea and could not stop myself from laughing after running on the beach from the hotel and back.  I even had an improtu kickabout with a bunch of expat Iraqis - my 'Beckham 23' shirt helped and proved that despite their being a 'war' on, the beautiful game is the universal language - especially if you're far from home. 

While I was away, I was keeping a close eye on unfolding drama at home. The BBC was awaiting the publication of the Hutton Report so I was due for a busy time back in the Press Office and equally pressing, Middlesbrough were taking a 1-0 lead into the second leg of the League Cup semi-final against 'The Invincible's' Arsenal side that would not lose a league game that season.  

A momentous night at the Riverside Stadium saw the Boro triumph on aggregate and travel to Cardiff for the first time to contest a major Cup final against Bolton Wanderers on the fateful date of February 29th. The whole family went to Wales for the weekend and we enjoyed a tremendous day beforeout and about in the Capital running into friends and familiar faces at every turn. 

Not getting to a major final every season, we decided to do things in a little bit of style and managed to book a Corporate Box for the whole family to watch the game from. The game has been well covered in other places but despite leaking a goal just before half time, the two we had scored in the first 15 minutes saw that 128 years later, Middlesbrough FC had won it's first major trophy and I, and pretty much everyone I loved and cared about, was there to see it. 

The year continued without much negativity or drama and we enjoyed the rarity of a real, warm British summer. I celebrated my 31st birthday in Bicester during the European Championships and despite being ejected from The Litten Tree for being too drunk to speak, a good time was had by all. 

A week later, I started chatting with a bright, sparky, clever and amazingly attractive girl from Atlanta called Stacey - and so it began, although I had to pull out the big guns to keep her interest...

Suddenly my life was transformed and energised even more, by a relationship I wasn't even looking for when it exploded into my life. I still feel that way when I look at her. 

I had been planning to take a trip to the USA later that year anyway but now I had a specific reason to go and a city to visit - Atlanta - for the first time. I've never been so nervous, excited and alive as when I saw Stacey for the first time at Hartsfield Jackson airport. The busiest airport in the world it may be but it still stopped when she spotted me and smiled.  We had a great 10 days together - I've always been an Ameriphile and we hung out, passed the friends test, went to the Baseball and clicked like we'd known each other for years. It was just right. 

I reluctantly headed back to England and reality but we had already made plans for Stacey to spend Christmas with me back in England. In the meantime, I had Middlesbrough's first European adventures to look forward to, starting in with a trip to the Czech Republic and Banik Ostrava. Leaving from Teesside Airport, my brother, Dad and seemingly half of Teesside descended on this Eastern European steel making town and felt decidedly at home with the locals. Boro progressed over both legs but lifelong friendships were made in our twin Steel City

Stacey and I kept on chatting throughout the Autumn and Middlesbrough shrugged off their history of mediocrity, beating the likes of Liverpool, Man City and Villa in the league and in one special evening making Lazio look like a Northern League outfit in the UEFA Cup. 

The year ended with Stacey coming to the UK for the first time and despite the tactical error of taking her to Whitby in December and actually making her cry with the cold, she met my family and friends and actually decided to come back again. And again, and again.

So as I sifted through the broken sugar bowl and spilled milk of the kitchen lino before I had to take a cold shower and drive to work in London that cloudy New Years Day not knowing the filips and fun awaiting me in the year ahead, so we don't know what's round the corner this except for one caveat.  It will be better than last. 

It has to be. 

All the fun of the unfair

Some readers may be a little confused as to why Vince and I have moved back to the UK and Stacey remains in the US.

Basically in July 2012, new rules were brought in to curtail British people bringing their partners and family members into the country if they are non-EU citizens.  Not just folks from those funny sounding countries either, but Americans, Australians, South Africans - you know, our friends.

The upshot of which is that in order to bring your partner, you have to find a job earning a minimum amount of money (£18,600), to sponsor them for two years and an additional £2,400 for each non-EU child.  Vince is dual so doesn't count in that equation but Stacey does which is why my freelance Social Media/Consulting business is on ice and I'm working for Bloggs and Son to meet this figure so Stacey can come over.   It is ostensibly to stop her signing on the dole when she arrives, which of course is foremost in any immigrants mind but also disallows third party sponsorship, so even if I was the son of Richard Branson or Alan Sugar, this would not be taken into consideration.

The Visa processing process takes two to three months itself and costs £850 to apply. Stacey has to apply from the United States, cannot do it from the UK, and has to hand over her passport in the process to make sure there are no sneaky trips to, you know, see her son and husband in the meantime.  There is also no right of appeal if the request is turned down so you'd better make damn sure you've got all your ducks in a row.

The reason the rule was brought in is a classic example of realpolitik.  The government wants to reduce immigration so it can go to the polls in 2015 and say - "Look, we reduced immigration!".  There are several methods to do this but the one they have decided on impacts non-EU citizens immigration rules, which they can control as opposed to EU citizens free movement which they can't.  So, by erecting barriers to non-EU citizens, the number of successful applications falls, immigration goes down and it's a policy triumph. Regardless of how many families and homes are split up in the process.  Japanese and Chinese research students go to more welcoming universities in the US, taking their goodwill, money and brains with them, willing immigrants from countries that are our past and present allies linger on the sidelines whereas citizens from countries with a dubious grip on human rights, rule of law etc, yes Russia & Dubai, we're looking at you, can have the red carpet rolled out if they have £62,500 in the bank.  I should have mentioned that the Government has left a loophole for 'high value' migrants that have that amount of spare income.

A report by the All Party Parliamentary Group on Migration has been published today which reacts as any fair-minded individual would when informed of the wrong-header, cruel policy put in place as a sledgehammer to crack the walnut sized problem of non-EU/British family immigration.  The report addresses cases like us and calls for a review of the procedure - good luck with that.

As a last insult, the rule does not apply to non-British EU citizens and their non-EU partners so Jose from Ireland and his American wife or Bert from Spain with his Brazilian partner can bring them in as soon as they get to a wifi access point to submit the paperwork.

I never thought it would be easier for me to emigrate into the US than Stacey to come here but there we are. I hope this sheds some light on the frustrations and outright outrageous unfairness we face in trying to reunite our family in the UK. Expat message boards are full of heart breaking stories of families breaking up and British citizens being forced into exile just to keep their families together.

But I'm sure it's worth it to keep those darn New Zealanders out...

Update 1 - As ever, our good friends at The Northern Echo are first out of the gate

Update 2 - I also spoke to Amy Lea on BBC Tees drivetime about the issue yesterday too. 

Blessay From America now available on Amazon!

Well I'm officially an author.  

Blessay From America, the ebook, is now available on amazon.co.uk, amazon.com and everywhere else with an Amazon.

It's a lot easier than going all the way back through the previous blog so save some time and get yourself one.

You're Welcome. 

Dispatches from the home front

Welcome to the first Blessay from Britannia - being a collection and journal of the adventures of Mr Guy Bailey back home in his native British Isles after four years abroad in them there United States.

We set off from the gleaming newness of Atlanta's international terminal for our night flight to Amsterdam.  After bidding a tearful farewell for us all to Stacey, who will hopefully follow in a couple of months when we can sort out her Visa.

The flight was one of the better ones we've had, as we both managed to get some sleep. We got to Amsterdam flying low over the gleaming, post-ironic metal offshore windfarms, and the city's famous canal network to my favourite airport in the world.  Clean, efficient, well signposted and with great transport links to and from its home city. An example to all present and future designers.

Vincent always makes a beeline for his own personal marker here, the McDonalds, but as it was lunch and we were there for a couple of hours, I acquiesced. They went quickly enough and we began the last leg of our journey home.  Always delighted when the cabin crew refer to Teesside as opposed to the corporate bastardisation that is Durham/Tees Valley, I spotted another good omen. A feature in the in flight magazine on reimagined album covers had a couple from my old school friend Huw Gwilliam aka @littlepixel. In the same way that a path you are not meant to follow becomes more obstacle strewn and arduous, so a desired one becomes more favourable with positive milestones, physical and literal to illustrate it.

Met by a delighted mum and my auntie Irene, we finally arrived home after 16 hours on the road, ready for sleep.

We didn't get chance to have a longer lie-in because we had an appointment with the headmaster of his new school to show us around and introduce him to English school life.  School has certainly changed in the 24 years since I left - AstroTurf play areas, interactive touchscreens and music labs. Not as far removed from the university I just left.  Vince has already been given the honour of raising the American flag on July 4th after successfully identifying the Welsh flag flying to celebrate St Davids day.  We then came home via the library where Vince announced that he was going to change his name to Mr Topsy Turvey.

As well as reacclimatising to the UK, certain columns of society remain including pneumaticly rude customer service. I certainly won't go to the Doctor's health center to register at lunchtime. Oh no.

Despite struggling with the inevitable jetlag and flared up eczema reactions, I hope you'll stick around for more on vince and I's monumental journey back to the so far sunless North East of the motherland.

We'll try to make it worth your while.