Pip pip cheerio and all that rot

Today I became a British citizen.

Yes, that's right. I've joined the ranks of Winston Churchill, Paddington Bear, Lawrence Olivier, Margaret Thatcher, Dame Judi Dench, Ricky Gervais and even her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second.

The occasion was the right mix of British formality and British kookiness, particularly since it was presided over by the head of the North Somerset District Council and ably assisted by the Assistant Chief Registrar (or somesuch...I didn't take down names).


When you submit your acceptance to attend the ceremony, you have to choose if you are going to take an Oath or an Affirmation. The wording is the same for both, except for the beginning, in which you either swear to the Almighty God or you say you really, really mean it (or something to that affect). (As an interesting side bar, you also got to tick a box to express your preference to NOT shake hands. I was tempted, just to see how it was handled, and what you got instead, but couldn't go through with it).

On the day, the about-to-be-citizens were divided into two groups on two sides of the room, the Oath-takers and the Affirmation-makers. It kind of felt like West Side Story, actually, like we were going to rumble at any moment. Fortunately we didn't, because I was with the Oath-takers and we were way out-numbered by the Affirmation-makers.

As you would expect, there was official business (incuding a somewhat extended scripted monologue about how great North Somerset is - particularly Clevedon - by the Council Chair), then we stood up and repeated after the registrar person, who said the oath we were taking in small manageable chunks. Even smaller chunks than when you take your wedding vows, actually, even though we had the words written out for us on little laminated cards. I think they do that for people who are not fluent in English, which is nice, but at the same time, it made it really hard to say. Not to mention the lady next to me was really lovely and enthusiastic, so I couldn't really hear what I was saying. We have the whole thing on video, so I can check if I actually said it and said it properly. (And if you play it backwards, I say, "Paul is Dead, Paul is Dead.")

After the Oath-takers said ours, the Affirmation-makers said theirs. Then, we got called up one by one to shake the hand of the Council Chairman and get our "Citizenship Pack."



I was hoping to get one of those medallion things, but I think that's what you get after 5 years of citizenship.

The Chairman said a witty little aside for each person, and did a good job throughout putting everyone at ease. He also played the stern authoritarian and gave us a little speech about freedom. After that, they played the national anthem on a little boom box, which was quite sweet and a slightly awkward moment, particularly when the administration support lady accidentally let the next verse start, but cut it off right after. Then they served tea and biscuits in an anteroom. We didn't stay for the biscuits, but everyone was very nice.

All in all, a very pleasant experience. There was even a moment, when a newly-minted citizen was asked why he was smiling so much, he said "Because I was a man without a country. And now I have one!" So yes, we laughed, we cried, we discussed civic involvement.

It's great to be an American.

I mean, long live the Queen!

All good things...

Ralph died Friday night, in his sleep - Mark's mum found him on Saturday morning. Mark and I went down to Brean on Saturday and helped her bury him in the garden, near the sea. It was tough, but not as tough as it has been for his mum.

Ralph was suffering from a canine form of leukemia, which became apparent around Christmas. He was on steroids and it seemed he was making a recovery, so it has been a bit of a shock that he's gone. But it is for the best, because it is likely that he would have just suffered more in the future, even with the medication.

So let's all raise a glass, even if you never knew him, to Ralph the sheepdog.

Driving Miss Bonnie...Sean...Jane...Ken...

I just started my new job (even though I'm still doing elements of the old one, until the project wraps up at the end of March). It kicked off on Friday, but today I had my first official meeting with my new line manager, so today felt more like the first day. I'm excited about it, because there is a lot to do, and it's a completely new role so I'll get to shape it as I go.

But one of the aspects of the job is a decent amount of driving around the region, which a lot of people in the company do. This isn't a big deal, but recently the organization decided to invest in SatNav for everyone. So I got a new TomTom last week, and took it for its first spin today.

The Mazda is getting a tune-up, so Mark and I commuted together this morning in Noddy (the Honda). We knew where we were going, but I wanted to try it out, so I plugged the TomTom into the ligher and fired it up. There was a lot of set up and we soon had to make the biggest decision of all - which voice to use.

I had a listen to each and there were a few contenders. There are a mix of accents to choose from (and languages, if I could use if I could remember any of my high school Spanish, which I don't, unfortunately). There were a couple which I just couldn't imagine listening to for more than the 10 second test message, but there were more viable options than I had expected.

There was Jane, the Brit (very BBC, nice to listen to, doesn't grate on the nerves), Bonnie, the American (not as annoying as the guy American, I don't remember his name, sentimental, reminds me of home), Ken, the Australian (although not as strong an Aussie accent as one could have hoped - I guess they were trying to avoid the "Crocodile Dundee" stereotypes) and Sean, the Irishman (Kathy, the female Irish voice was in there with a chance, but Sean had a more obvious lilt, I think).

It was a tough call, but I went with Sean in the end. There wasn't one with a Scottish accent, which I think probably would have won the day, but Sean is quite nice. I might have to give the others a spin, maybe for a change of pace, or if Sean and I have a falling out.

Tomorrow is going to be the real test, because I have a 2 and a half hour drive to Slough to do, which I'm not exactly looking forward to (you may not know where it is, but it was where the fictional company in the original British version of The Office was located, so make your own conclusions). So we'll see how we do.

It could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Is it that time already?

This morning after brushing my teeth, I was in the middle of a train of thought about something or other (can't remember now, possibly something about the trip in April) and it occurred to me that this is the year I turn 30.

Now, I know that everyone, I mean everyone, in this blog's audience has already been-there-done-that, so I'm not looking for sympathy, I'm not looking for concern. I'm not too bothered by it...yet. I actually don't know if it's going to be a big thing for me or not. I'll just have to wait and see.

Judging by the context of Team Vallentine, I have a feeling that it isn't going to be a big crisis. Mark and I can't even remember what we did for his 30th, so it couldn't have been too life-altering good or bad. But, as we all know, Mark and I go about many things in different ways, so just because he was able to pass one of life's milestones with equanimity doesn't mean that I'm going to. In fact, it probably means that I definitely won't. So brace yourselves!

But it did make me even happier that the cruise trip is happening, since that's a nice, slightly different thing to do to celebrate, even if it isn't anywhere near my birthday. Although it is awfully close to my half birthday, so it could kick-off the countdown...unfortunately I've already registered my birthday with the cruise people, so I can't pretend that my birthday is really in May, since they do special "celebratory" things if you tell them there's an event in the near future (or near past). They actually specify how close the special occasion has to be to your cruise date for them to celebrate it. I think the special occasion has to have taken place 20 days before the cruise or going to happen within 40 days after your return. So I guess I'll just have to live vicariously through Dad!

It's been a long time...

...since I wrote this blog.

But as I pointed out to the sister that pointed this out to me, I just haven't had a topic that's popped up as relevant even for a blog. And I even promised myself no more of these self-reflexive blog posts, and here I am, doing it. Sigh.

But thinking about it, it has just occurred to me that said sister might not have been suggesting that I add to this blog, but in fact look at her own...which I did.

I wish the Feiste Mominator would read my blog...

'Tis the Season to eat raisins.

So Christmas has officially begun for the Vallentine household. The Christmas season had begun for the Horn-turned-Vallentine contingent way back at Thanksgiving, but proper Christmas - the actual "doing" of Christmas - started this weekend.

Friday evening we picked up Mark's sister Sarah and her boyfriend Tim from the Weston-super-Mare train station on the way into Brean and stayed at his mum's place over the weekend. Sarah is planning to stay down here until the day after Boxing Day (no, it doesn't have a name), but Tim is spending Christmas Day with his family, so he's actually taking the train up to Hull (that's in the North) today. That meant that this weekend was the only time when everyone was going to be there, so we tried to be extra festive, and hence, kicked off the Christmas party early.

All that really meant is we started upping the quantities of food eaten per meal, played some games (including the Wii, which was, as expected, a big hit), and then last night sat around and watched while Tim opened his presents in front of us.

But the main thing that tells me that Christmas is here (and the reason for this post, as you might have guessed) is that the raisins have arrived.

I think I've probably ranted about this in front of all of you before, but let's recap. Pretty much all the traditional British dishes/foods eaten at Christmastime involve raisins or sultanas in some fashion. All the stuff that everyone only eats during the holiday, which everyone gets excited about contain raisins. Mince pies, christmas cake (which sounds great but is, in fact, fruitcake), christmas pudding (which isn't pudding at all for an American, but a raisin-flavored, raisin filled booby trap) have all gone to the dark side. Normally I'm ok for the actual Christmas dinner, but I have in fact seen brussel sprouts and stuffing each with raisins in. It's pretty tragic.

This year I'm making the stuffing (just in case) and hoping to make a pecan pie to create a small non-raisin safe haven for myself. I think my British citizenship may be held up by the fact that I don't accept raisins, since it seems to be a national pasttime over here (it's not restricted just to Christmas - oh no sireee).

But as you tuck in to your apple pies and tree-shaped sugar cookies this year, spare a small thought for me, a lone ex-pat in a sea of sultanas, trying to celebrate a raisin-free Christmas.


(...and Jenny, if you post a comment about how raisins are good for me and I just need to think myself out of this problem, so help me, Christmas or no Christmas...)

:)

Step number 523, complete.

Yesterday, I drove an hour and a half to Newton Abbot, a town in Devon. It's a nice little place, and is on the way to Torquay, which is one of the sort of old British resort towns on the South coast of Devon.

Newton Abbot's local authority (sort of the equivalent of a town council) is the only place in the South West of England that does the Nationality Checking Service (NCS). The NCS basically means that if you pay £35 they look at your application for naturalisation (see it's working, notice the "s") and make sure that you've filled everything in properly and you've included all the documents you need.

The most important bit is that they make official photocopies of all of your documents so you don't have to send the originals into the national office that considers the applications. Normally, if you just mail in the application, you have to send in your passport, your spouse's passport (if you are applying on the basis of marriage, like me), your marriage certificate and some other paperwork. Which means that there are lots of chances of it being lost, or being kept for a long period of time (months, or in one case I've heard of, 2 years!). I don't like the idea of not being able to travel at all for however long it takes them to do the paperwork, so it's definitely worth it to drive the distance and pay the money to be able to keep our passports!

It was all a very quick process - it took all of about 15 minutes. There was a bit of a panic because they asked for lots of documents that I didn't bring because I had already showed them to the people when I got my indefinite leave. They said that it's a different office that is considering this application (Home Office rather than Passport Control), so they ask to see it. But they said that it's not really required, they just ask to see if it people bring it. I kept asking again and again if they thought I should come back, but they assured me that if the Home Office did need to see some more proof or identification they would contact me and ask for it, rather than just reject my application outright. Which is good, since if they reject your application, you don't get your £655 back!

They also submit your application by secure post, and so it was meant to arrive in Liverpool today at 1pm GMT. Apparently, the Home Office will get in touch in the next couple of weeks just to let me know they received it, and then it will probably take a couple to a few months to hear the response.

It's nice that it's all done, and now I just wait and see!