A Family, Interrupted Part 1

So,

The day before the night before Christmas,

And all through the Reichstag*

Not a Brownshirt was stirring,

Not even The Biatch...**

But outside, Emily and I pull up in our reliable car, Ticker. The boot [translation: trunk] is filled with an assortment of Yuletide goodies and two HUGE sacks from Santa. The rain is falling, but I hardly notice because as I get out I look across the car park [trans.: parking lot] to see a minivan [trans.:minivan] with two excited-looking Guntons in it. I heft out the enormous Santa sacks and the bag full of snacks and start to head to the SS office.

I'm expecting that the foster carer is going to pin the kids in place until I'm safely within-doors, but against my expectations, the kids are unleashed and they instantly rush to catch up with me. They are obviously on a huge high, Rhiannon has a skip in her step and Caleb just cannot stop grinning. He tells me that he has a present for me, showing me it from where he had been hiding it behind his back. Rhiannon also has a Christmas present, but she is making no attempt to hide it and she's carrying it proudly. They also have Christmas cards and Caleb just cannot wait to give me his. I shoo them into the office, because the rain has started to get even heavier. No sign of the new social worker (not sure if she's a Brownshirt as of yet, withholding judgement until I've had more contact with her), so I sign in and as I'm doing that, I hear the carer say, "If you keep grinning like that, you'll tear your cheeks." I turn to see both kids grinning ear to ear and looking at me, so I sit opposite them and Caleb trots over and hands me his Christmas card. The envelope says 'Dad' in his inimitable handwriting and I delve into one of the Santa sacks to give him my card back. Rhiannon gives me her card, the envelope of which has careful joined-up writing, so I open Caleb's first. He's painted it bright blue and written 'Merry Christmas' right in the center. He's a lefty so, obviously, he's made his card right-side opening. Surprised me, I had to figure it out without the aid of a safety net. I get the card open and it says:

"Dear Dad

Merry

Christmas!

Love from

Caleb

XXX'

I thank him for the lovely card and open Rhiannon's card. She'd gummed the envelope shut, so I had to tear open the top. Her card has a lovely snowman drawn on the front and says 'Merry Christmas!' across the top. Inside, it says:

"Dear Dad

Merry christmas

Love

Rhiannon

XXX"

Yes, truly the sentiments of two children who supposedly fear their father...

I thank them both for the beautiful cards and tell them that they are the best cards I've had all year. The social worker arrives and we all traipse to the room we have booked. I ask to be allowed to play some Christmas tracks I've sync-ed to the iPhone (thank you again, Mumsy!) and I am allowed (so far, so good..). So to the dulcet, helium-enhanced tones of Alvin and the Chipmunks, we set about the serious business of Christmas present unwrapping. First out of the bag is Rhiannon's toy, a police station for some battery-powered guinea pig/hamster-things (I suppose they're more sanitary than the real animals) and Caleb gets.... SENTINEL PRIME!!! First shock of the day, the kids have seen the extremely violent third Transformers movie. I'm more than a little upset that Caleb dwelt upon a Transformer that 'turned people to skeletons'. A strong word to be had with the social worker regarding the appropriateness of what they are allowed to watch shall be had in the near future...

Next comes the arts-and-crafts things, Rhiannon's crochet set and Caleb's paint-a-birdbox set. Rhiannon is instantly enthralled by the idea of crochet-ing and I encourage her by saying that once she's done with all the yarn in the set, she can buy more and make other things. Caleb's looking at his birdbox box with his nose wrinkled in disgust. When I ask him what's up, he says "The painting on the pictures is horrible. I could do better."

With a smile, I told him, I bet he could and it'd be a lucky bird that would get to live in the box once he'd finished decorating it. Caleb liked that! Next came Rhiannon's crocheted bag and it's contents, a wallet and three sticks of lipbalm. The lipbalm is an instant hit, considering Rhiannon's habit of licking her lips and ending up with them chapped. She instantly applied a layer of 'Very Cherry' and smiled. Caleb opened a box to find his wallet, belt, watch/compass and pen set. This is all VERY cool, especially the watch, which he straps on immediately and starts figuring out which direction he is facing. Once he decides we are facing South-East, he opens his wallet to find three dollar bills, a nearly complete 'Royal Crest' set of British coins (all they need to find is the fifty-pence coin) and a whole £10. This, I tell him, is to buy his sister a special present. He smiles and nods. Something tells me he might have something in mind for her...

Rhiannon then opens her wallet and finds exactly the same as Caleb found in his. Lucky, lucky, lucky! She seems to know what she might like to get Caleb, but she doesn't give the game away. I called a pause at that point and pour out three cups of strawberry milkshake [trans.: strawberry milk] and then pull out the snacks and treats from the bag. There was: two boxes of Cracker Jacks, a pack of snowman Marshmallow Peeps, another pack of Christmas tree Marshmallow Peeps, three Twinkies, twelve candy canes and a bag of candy corns. Rhiannon is immediately drawn to the Twinkies and manages to get two thirds of one in her mouth in one bite. The om-nom-nom-ing told me that she was enjoying it immensely. That and the blissful, puffy-cheeked grin she gave me. Caleb was more circumspect, enthralled by SENTINEL PRIME!!!, so I had to encourage him to try something. In the end, a Peep Christmas tree was his first try and it lasted all of a couple of seconds before his eyes lit up and he was reaching for a second. The next thing to catch Rhiannon's eye was the Cracker Jacks. I asked, off-handed if they liked popcorn. Yeah! was the reply. Did they like peanuts? Yeah!! Do they like caramel? Yeah!!! Then they'll probably like Cracker Jacks. And as an added bonus, there's a prize in the box too. Rhiannon needed no further encouragement and dug into a box. I managed to get a few pieces of popcorn before she finished the rest. I think they were a hit.

Refueled with milkshake and candy, we dived into the seemingly bottomless sacks for more gifts. Rhiannon got a drinks bottle to match her wallet and Caleb got a huge great box. As Rhannon figured out how to open her bottle, Caleb demolished the wrapping on his present to descover, a Build-a-Bear! Named Timmy, he came with a soldier's camo suit, shiny boots, bear tags and a beret. He also had a £10 gift card to buy some new clothes. More arts-and-crafts things, Fimo modeling clay and Play-doh! Wouldn't it be a shame if that ended up smooshed all in the carer's carpets? >:D

Oh joy, Caleb's found out that not only does SENTINEL PRIME!!! declare his name loudly and proudly, but he also has a loud siren. That'll be a wonderful thing to hear early on a Sunday morning....

Rhiannon opens her next present, it's a bright and cheerful scarf and gloves! She instantly decides to put her gloves on, but wisely takes them off when she started on her Christmas tree Peeps. She also has a lovely book of classic stories and she gasps with delight at this. Caleb finds he has a cheeky monkey earmuff-hat and a Star Wars Lego book set. It's awesome! because he can make robots and spaceships and soldiers. Wearing his hat, he makes a face and asks, "Do I look silly?" I tell him, "No, the monkey is making the same face you do. He's winking."

Caleb take it off, looks at it then, with a grin, winks cheekily at me.

Now I get a chance to open my presents and I start with Caleb's. He's had a sourdough volcano-candle holder, painted to look like it's erupting and complete with red and yellow glitter 'lava' pouring down the side. I am very impressed with it and I tell him so. Caleb's grin is huge. Next I open Rhiannon's present and it's a pair of large framed photos of them both. To say they don't appear all that cheerful is an understatement. In Rhiannon's picture, she has the edges of a smile, but her expression is very neutral. Caleb's picture has him resting his head on his right hand and there is no sign of a smile. These are supposed to be children who are happy in their foster placement? Really? Could have fooled me.

Even the picture from their 'holiday' showed a very unenthusiastic pair of smiles. Four photos of them over a whole year. After the SS had agreed to provide me with pictures of 'significant events'.

As we opened presents, Caleb told me that he'd been in the school choir and had sung 'The Little Drummer Boy' which was playing on the iPhone. I asked him if he'd had fun doing that and he says he had. Rhiannon was quiet at this point, listening to the music while she played with SENTINEL PRIME!!!'s shield-gun-thing. I asked her if she was okay, and she nodded quietly, smiling at me. The smile got bigger when I told her that I loved them both and that I had had the best Christmas present ever, spending time with them together.

Finally our time together came to an end, the social worker telling us it was dead on twelve o'clock. To their credit, the kids were fantastic, helping me pack everything away into bags for them to take back to their house.

I don't know how to take this new social worker. She questioned me about the candies and treats from the States and I'd said Emily's mum (hi, Mom!) and sister (hi, Elizabeth!) had sent them and we'd decided to let the kids have some because we could not possibly get through it all by ourselves. She didn't raise any problems with the contact, even though her pen didn't seem to stop moving the whole time. I'll just have to wait and see the report in the New Year to see whether she's taken what the last Brownshirt said as Gospel and Verse or if sh's formed her own opinions of me. Who can say what miracles the New Year may bring?

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a Good Night!!!

SENTINEL PRIME!!!

*SS office.

**So it don't rhyme, meh...

Boobs, Brews & Booths

The weekend started out well enough, sanely enough.  Mark and I drove up to Harrogate after my class on Friday afternoon but, as we needed a few, last minute items we didn't manage to leave Hull until sometime after four.  It was dark and there are lots of speed cameras on the A1079,  which is the main road through Hull.  I've only been driving on UK roads for about a month but, as one person said, if you can drive in Hull, you can drive anywhere... I've cut my british driving teeth driving in Hull so I figured I am good to go... I've even figured out their weird roundabouts... or so I thought.  We got lost, once, because I took the wrong exit off a roundabout.  But then, they're really confusing!  You come to a roundabout and they have two lanes and you have to get into different lanes depending on which exit you're going to take... after a while I managed to figure it out a bit.  We only got lost once.  Well, I took the wrong exit, so I suppose that's not exactly getting lost is it?  We eventually turned around, and returned to the roundabout where I took the correct exit.  According to the satnav, the trip should have taken about an hour and a half for a 70 mile journey.  About 6, I figured we were almost there and sure enough, we were approaching Harrogate.

There was one last roundabout before we got to Rudding Park, the lands where the hotel and golf course were on.  Mark was telling me to go straight through (second exit) while the road signs were saying to turn left (first exit).  I slowed down and we had a brief discussion over what we should do.  In the end he argued that his instructions said to go straight so I ignored the road signs and trusted the satnav.  It's dark and we're hungry so I was really, really hoping that the phone was correct.  It was.  A nice, big, sign welcomed us to what was probably once ancestral lands which is Rudding Park.  And then there was even a smaller sign saying Reception.  And this, my friends, is when we found out just how good good service could be.

After driving over the roundabout marker, which was, to be honest, not very clear in the dark, we pulled up to the front in the expectation that we'd register, they'd give us a map to our room, hand us our key and fare thee well.  No.  Service here was amazing.  Mark and I come in, all disheveled from the day and we get to the counter and the staff not only register us but they take our keys, park our car, bring in our luggage, carry our luggage to our room, open our door, set our stuff down and leave before we could even think of offering them a tip.  Wow.  We then unpack, what little we planned on doing and now we need to find the parental units as the Gunton males and the gents were getting together in the groom's lodge that had been reserved for him while the Gunton women and the ladies were getting together in the bridal suite.  After a bit of looking we find Uncle Phil who shows Dad, Mark and me to the Bridal suite where the other ladies are already.

 I then got to meet my future cousin-in-law and the lady of the weekend, Shaf.  The men eventually go off and do their things while we ladies make our way down to the restaurant for a bite to eat.  About this time I checked my phone and saw that I had a text from Mark: You are so lucky, I'm on a death march through the icy cold looking for a place that may or may not exist.  If I die before morning, I want you to know I love you...  I showed it to the other ladies who laughed at the humor and went awwwww at the end of the message.  Oh yeah, that's my guy, she said with a self-satisfied smirk.  Again, the staff was amazing.  The drinks were ordered, delivered and then our food was ordered and, after a while, the staff comes through the door and it's not just one person who is delivering our dinner-but several.  I had a steak with chips (read: steak fries) which were quite lovely once I added a bit of salt to them.  Sadly my Diet Coke eventually diminished and I was left wanting more.

After much more merriment and champagne for all, we toasted the bride, gabbed about the following day and then Mark texted me again telling me he was outside the girls' den.  I met him, brought him back to the ladies' sanctuary where he got compliments for his witty and romantic text.  After a little while we decided we were done for the night, bade the ladies good night and retired to our room for the rest of the night.  I do no have any pictures of the day because my phone was close to dying after being in constant use all day and the battery to the camera itself had died.

The following morning we went down to breakfast.

The rest of the Gunton clan came down a bit later.  Mark & I both had the Yorkshire breakfast which included eggs to order, black pudding, baked beans, fried tomato, field mushrooms, Yorkshire sausage, bacon and toast.

 I turned my nose up at the mushrooms and the pudding and Mark called me all sorts of unsavory names a gentleman does not call a lady.  Be quiet Gunton!  I am not afraid of it, I just refuse to eat blood is all.  To be honest, I didn't really like the eggs as they were way too... moist.  My mother and sister and Auntie know what I'm talking about.  Once we had finished our breakfast we joined the other Guntons and sat talking about this, that and another thing until everyone got up to either get ready or to run into town really fast.  Friends of Phil & Ann, Bill & Helen offered to take us into town as they were going to Sainsbury (store) to get a few things.  Turns out that Mark & I found cold Diet Coke and coffee, which we both needed.  There are no fridges in the hotel room so I was caffeine deprived.

Mark & I then returned to our room where we got ready for the wedding which was due to start at 1.  We decided we were going to be Victorian as modern just is not us.  I think Mark looked absolutely amazing in his clothing.  He really did look like quite the gentleman.  And I love my skirt!  A lot of people asked us if we had rented our clothes and no, we didn't.  We've been shopping around for months, trying to find what we wanted for the smallest price possible.  The beauty of it is that we'll be able to wear these for all sorts of occasions now.

Now then, a bit after one the wedding went underway.  One might think that, being American, our wedding traditions would be similar to British wedding ceremonies and while this is so in many ways, there are several differences that threw me for a loop.  The groomsman, like ours, were the ushers.  This was a formal wedding and while I expected the ushers to take my arm and lead us to our seats they instead asked us our side and we said groom and then were instructed to take a seat on the right though the first and second rows were reserved for family... we are family... we sat in the second row with Bill & Helen.  The ushers, once everyone had come into the room where the wedding was held, took seats in the front row instead of standing with the groom.  The only person with him was his best man.

Once the wedding party came in, the ring bearer came up to the best man, handed him the pillow then found a parent and stayed there.  Kids are so cute.  The bride came next and behind her were her ladies.  Like the groom, the only person who stayed up with her was her maid-of-honor.

At the front were two tables where a woman who was filling out the registry, which made the marriage in that place and that location legal and then the woman preforming the ceremony.  In the States you can get married anywhere, the thing that makes it legal is the person performing the ceremony.  In the UK, the ceremony site has to be registered as a marriage site or else the ceremony can't be legal.  They also have to legally ask if the bride and groom have come to the wedding of their own accord and if they know of any reason why they cannot be married.  When the officiant asked if there was anyone who knew of any reason why the two couldn't be married Del turned towards the guests and gave a very Gunton look of dire threat and warning.  Everyone who saw it laughed and then she repeated herself saying, ignore his look, if anyone knows why these two should not be married... and then Del turned to the guests again and gave the same angry glare as before.  The Gunton men definitely have a very wicked sense of humor.

Inevitably though, the vows were exchanged, which were much different than ours.  I believe they were traditional vows but not like ours.  They promised to love, honor and respect each other.  I think all the females started to cry.  When the officiant asked Del if he took Shaf he said I do real quick like.  When asking Shaf, she leaned back, wrinkled her brow and nose and went, mmmm.  I don't think Del was worried for a second even as she laughed and said, I do.  They had the entire room laughing during the entire ceremony.  And then it was over and we were kicked out for a very long cocktail hour as the staff turned the room over from the ceremony to the reception.  This is when we took pictures.

See how good my man looks?  This was taken in the library section of the manor house/hotel.  Eventually though we were led into the room again for the reception and it was quite blue.  The theme for the wedding was winter with blue and silver/gray being the colors.  It was really nice and it's obvious that a lot of thought was put into the favors which were at each place setting.  I have to admit that I like having the favors at the table instead of at a different table.  It seemed much more personal.

I was seated between Mark and his cousin Stuart, the brother of the groom.  Those two monsters had me cracking up.  Eventually the starters were served and I had chosen the tomato soup which was very much yummy.  After a while, the dishes were taken and another long wait saw the main meal.  The table save Stuart, had the beef which was a typical sunday roast of a slice of beef, Yorkshire pudding, potatoes and veggies.  That was then eventually followed with dessert and the cutting of the cake.

Then the night got really interesting and it became evident that people were quite drunk.  After dessert Mark and I returned to our room where I changed into something a bit more comfortable as the corset I had on was making it hard to do things easily, like use the ladies' room.  Diet Coke was not in attendance during the wedding but water was and, even though I had used the restroom in our room, nature once more called and I found it necessary to well, use the necessary.  Whilst there I was asked by a woman what was up with my boobs.  I explained that I was wearing a corset earlier and it really does do interesting things to the bust line and that I understood that people were talking about it and wondering.  Not many women wear corsets these days.  Then she wanted to know how big my boobs were.  She was, to put it nicely, a bit toasted.  Unconcerned I told her and she did not believe me as she was sure mine were bigger than hers and she had hers made into Fs.  Sorry darling, mine are what God gave me.  She was not satisified with my answer but she and a friend eventually left and I remained to redo my hair, apply a bit more color to my lips and straighten my shawl.

It was also at this time that I learned that I was the envy of every single woman who was able to see Mark push in my chair each and every time there was a need for me to rise and sit again.  Every time without fail.  He was quite gentlemanly and every single lady who saw that sighed and wished that her man would do the same for her.  hehehehe... suckas.  I saw him first so he's mine.

Upon leaving I hear her call my name and it was my newly made boob friend and she had been regaling some of the ushers about our bra discussion.  From the looks on their pained faces they had learned a bit more about her bra size, my bra size and bra sizes in general.  Apparently she still could not believe that though I looked bigger, hers were.  What can I say?  Someone had tried to explain that the larger the chest size, the cup size goes down by one... she still wasn't buying it.  She left me alone with the men, I laughed and bade them good night, told Mark about it and he rolled his eyes and asked if there was anyone he needed to kill.

I foolishly thought that that was the end of the boob discussion.

If you have recently been to a wedding chances are there was a photobooth where the drunk and disorderly can go in, take pictures of themselves and have a keepsake of their night that will, in the guest book, live on.  My boob friend had, indeed, with a friend taken pictures of her boobs.  Apparently she really wanted to judge the differences in sizes.  Mark and I were in line waiting for our turn when she, even more drunk than before, began the discussion again.  Leaning over, she says to me, without touching, I can't believe you're only a DD, you have to be bigger than me, have you ever been tested?  Upon a negative answer, she told me I had to go to H&M ( a clothing store) and get tested.  She wanted to know how I knew I was the size I was.  Fairly simple really, a D is too small and a DD fits perfectly.  It's not rocket science.  This was not acceptable.  She was sure I am wearing the wrong size.  Then I looked at her, shrugged my shoulders and said, well... I'm coming from American sizes, not British.  She stopped, looked at me and went.  Oh.

There really is no difference between American and British bra sizes.  Almost none.  I don't think she knew that as she finally dropped it.  So let this be a lesson to you folks.  Be careful how much you drink or else the entire wedding guest list will know that you are comparing your bra size to someone who was, until a few hours ago, a complete stranger.

Sunday morning, while the Gunton clan was getting their shoot together, the bra friend walks through the reception with her husband (?) and says, Hi Emily!  I said hello back.  Mark then explains to family members that she was the bra woman.

It was, however, a good time and I had a lovely time and I am so very glad I went.  But as it is now quite late and I need my beauty sleep, I shall bid thee all a good night.

Until the next time-

The Car

So we have a car.

We've had it for almost a month now and I am still quite excited about it.  Mark's parents came to visit us on the 21st of October.  That friday we went to meet a man about his car because he was selling it cheap and I like cheap.  Paul and Colette met us and looked it over and gave us the okay so the following day we gathered up the coin, got the insurance, paid the road tax and we had our car!  Paul drove it home and parked it as I wasn't exactly sure I wanted to drive on the British roads just yet.  They're really strange and backwards and all that, not to mention the car itself.

That's not where I live but Stepney Lane off of which I do live.  And that is my bright blue car.

The following day Mark and his parents piled into the car and proceeded to give me a driving lesson.  The roads are narrow, with cars parked on each side of the road and they have roundabouts which are crazy, insane and nothing like what we know, in CA at least.  My first lesson went okay but Paul kept reminding me that I needed to keep both hands on the wheel and not to have a hand on the stick shift.  He used to be a cop and he drives like one.  In the end, however, they left and it would be up to Mark to help me get used to these British roads and I have to say he has done a fabulous job of it.

A week or so later Mark and I were heading home from my monday class and I made a right hand turn and the engine drops out and suddenly we have no power.  It is all I can do to limp home and park the poor baby.  A few days later the guy I bought it from came over, changed out the spark plugs and changed the oil but nothing worked.

I signed up for the British version of AAA which is, funnily enough, The AA and last weekend I finally got around to calling them to get someone to come out and take a look at the car.  The tow truck came out and the driver was unable to figure out what was wrong as the car was not communicating with his diagnostic thingy.  So he had to tow it to a garage.  The garage is owned by a guy who has been working on cars his entire life and at the sight of him I was sure that if there was one thing he can do, it was work on cars.  To my surprise he told me that he'd call me the following day.  No one is open on a Sunday, at least things we take for granted aren't.  The driver asked me yet again if I can get my way home and tried to tell me which direction to go to in order to get to Beverley (off of which I live).  I had no clue where I was or how to get home but I am a firm believer in my phone's GPS and the power of the cab company to know how to find me and how to get me home.  The tow truck driver must have felt sorry for this poor Californian since he took me back home, right after he made sure I understood that he isn't supposed to drop people back home.  I thanked him profusely, signed the thing he needed me to sign and Mark & I went about our day.

Sure enough Sunday evening I get a call from him telling me that I can come and pick it up the next day.  So Monday morning I call for a taxi and go to pick up my car.  The cabbie engages me in political conversation in which I learn that all the political parties in the UK are all the same... save for one... the anarchists.  The mechanic said that the cam belt was all gungked up and had we driven on it then it could have fried the entire engine.  But now it runs really well and doesn't even complain.  But that doesn't explain how I got from there home.

Now then, I have only been driving in the UK for a very short amount of time and I don't know where everything is yet and, just to make things interesting, they have one way roads!  Isn't that fun?  When the tow truck had taken me home on Saturday he tried to tell me how to get back onto Beverley but he said right on this and right on that and I had no idea what he was saying because I don't know the roads or their names.

I got lost.

At one point I was heading towards the docks and instead of continuing on through to the docks and following it back onto the main drag, I turned around and turned down a few more streets until I managed to somehow, miraculously get onto the main drag and find my way home.  Since then I have managed to get to the St. Stephen's shopping center and back on my own and have I have been able to get Mark to and from work without getting lost either.  We've also gone around town for one thing or another and, thanks to my phone, we've not gotten lost either.

In a couple of weeks we shall be making our way to Harrowgate (no, not sure where it is) for Mark's cousin's wedding and I have every confidence that the car will get us there and back safely.  And then we'll have fun going to Birmingham to spend Christmas with his parents after which we'll head down to Derby to spend Boxing Day with his maternal family and then back home to Hull.

The only problem is, the car does not yet have a name!  Mark & I aren't sure what to name our new baby.

The Money Saga Part II

Or, How to Get a UK Bank Account if you're an International Student


I have written a post about my trials and tribulations in applying for, getting and securing my financial aid for my visa.  For some reason the UK Border Agency (UKBA) wants to make sure that students coming into their country have enough money to pay for their course fees and have enough money to pay for room and board so they don't get onto welfare.  Having succesfully secured a loan, gotten a letter of proof of funds from the university and having got here I then enjoyed the frustrations of trying to get a UK bank account.

Which is not nearly as easy as you might think.

So, for anyone planning on going to the UK for school who are going to open a checking account, please pay attention as I am about to save you a lot of walking, headaches, idiots who don't know what the heck they're doing, what you're doing or what's been done as well as save you from tears of frustration that could lead to homicidal rage-which isn't exactly pretty.

So here is my guide to getting a UK bank account if you're not a British citizen:

1.  Get a letter of introduction from the International Office.
The very first thing you should do when arriving in the UK is to go to the International Office-even before you check out the University itself.  Now, for Hull, the International Office likes to know that their students have arrived.  They even have wristbands you can wear so if anyone from their office sees you looking bewildered  they'll help you out.  I did not wear mine as I had Mark with me.  For Hull, there was a specific day where they had banks to get students bank accounts.

For me I chose Lloyds TSB simply because it's the bank the university uses and it's just down the road from both the International Office and the University-convenient eh?

When I went to open mine, I was told that I needed to go to the branch itself as they knew students were coming.  They knew students were coming and though they were willing to take down some information they still needed those letters. Which brings me to my next hint.

2.  Make sure you have your Passport & Visa on you when trying to open an account

I have seen more than one person turned away because they didn't have their passport on them.  Don't let this happen to you.  And no, a passport card or a DL isn't going to work.  You need the same passport and visa you used to get through customs.  When I went over that Tuesday they made a copy of both my passport and the visa.  They also had me fill out an application.  And then they told me to return the following day with my Letter of Introduction.

I had returned to the International Office the following day to be told quite rudely that the banks would pick up the letters directly and that I'd get an email when the account was open.  Fine, whatever.  A week later I still had not heard from the bank so I decided it would behoove of me to get a little pushy and returned to the International Office and asked about it.  Sure enough the bank had come and the letters had been given. Wonderful!  So I walked to the bank and asked about getting my account opened up!  The lady quite nicely told me that, due to the sheer press of students, they haven't gotten to them all yet (a week later) and that they might be finished on Friday.  Well... it didn't matter all that much since I didn't even have my money yet!

The original email I got said the financial aid disbursement checks would go out on the 20th only to find out that they weren't going to be disbursed until Oct. 3.  Um... that's a difference of two weeks and when you've got no money, that's a bit harsh.  But I had Mark so we were doing okay... for now.  But that brings me to my next suggestion:

3.  Make sure the bank looks at your application and tell you everything they're missing and need from you!

See, I wasn't quite pushy enough.  After I had said a merry, ok thank you and left the bank that monday (it was the 3rd) I went to the university to track down the guy who was supposed to give me my money!  grr....   He asked if I had my bank details and I said- uh, not yet so then he said that I'd be getting a check in pounds sterling and that he was putting out the info that day and the check would arrive either Tuesday (which it did) or Wednesday (when I was able to physically pick it up).

So It's now Wednesday and I had a beautiful check made out to me and I really wanted to deposit it into my bank account as I really needed that money already.  So I return to the bank, sure that I'd be able to open my account.  And no, I was not! See, they needed a letter of introduction and proof of residence.  Great.  I was told by the bank that they hadn't gotten a letter of introduction for everyone and I was one of the unlucky few.  Happily, I had gotten one from the guy in the International Office the previous Monday so I was able to give that to them right then and there.  Which bring up item #4:

4.  Make sure you have proof of residency from the Landlord or the International Office or via a Status Letter from the University

But now I needed to get proof of residency.  My problem is that, without any money, I can't afford to get onto the lease, without being on the lease, I can't get my bank account and thus no money... it's a vicious circle.  So I return to the International Office, ask them where I am to get it and, shock and surprise I can get it from them!  Only... I can't because you see... I'm not living on campus and they only have it from students living on campus.  So I had to go to the 2nd floor (what we in the real world would understand to be the third floor as the ground floor is  the first floor) of the Hull Student Union and get one from there.  And finally I got my Status Letter.

Which required yet another trip back to the bank.  Fortunately this was all that they needed and they accepted it.  Of course, it was still going to take them time to register it but they said they'd do it later that afternoon.  I was also finally able to put that beautiful check into the bank... but they have a 3-5 working day clearance so for me that's next Tuesday.  However, I should be able to access my money and get my ATM card whenever I head over there on Tuesday morning so yay!  I just need to bring my passport with me is all.  I can do that.

So, if you are going to open a checking account in the UK as an International student here's what you need on hand, with you before you go.

1.  Get a Letter of Introduction from the International Office
2.  Make sure you have your passport when opening up and dealing with the bank at all times
3.  Make sure the Bank looks at your application and lets you know what items you're missing
4.  Make sure you have a lease contract, statement from the landlord, a letter of residency from the International Office or a Status Letter from the University.

Only then, my intrepid friend, should you even think about opening an account!

First Day of Class

So today was the first day of lectures.  I have only one class on Mondays and my second class is on Fridays.  Let me back up.  I am getting an MA in Historical Studies at Hull and MA candidates in History have to take two core classes, the first being Historiography and the second being Research Design and Strategy.  For some reason the profs want the students to understand what it means to study and write history, to have a good appreciate what a historian is and does.  All the MA students have to take these two courses so I'll be in the same classes with the same people for the next 12 weeks.

The first class started at 4:14 this afternoon but I left earlier as I wanted to get some errands run before class started.  My first stop was the International Office.  Last week I opened up a bank account and I was told that I needed to get a letter of introduction from the IO the following day.  When I had returned the following day I was informed that they were going to send them directly to the bank and I didn't need to do anything as the bank would just send me an email with my bank information.  Well, this was over a week ago and I wanted answers.  It turns out that the bank had come over and collected the letters so I walked back to the bank and was told that with the sheer number of students who had opened accounts with them, it was going to take a while for them to finish processing... she suggested I return on Friday.  Friday... bother.

So I left the bank and tracked down the guy who was processing the financial aid refund checks.  I was told that they would go out today.  Oh, foolish me.  Though he was polite I got the impression that he was less than thrilled that I had come asking about the checks.  He asked me if I had my banking details and I said I didn't have it yet so he said that I'd be getting a check.  Yeah, I know... and please do it before the USD goes down even more!!  :(  He said he was processing it today and a check would be cut and it'd be in the financial office either tomorrow or Wednesday.  Great.

It was about 3 at this point and I decided now would be a great time to figure out where my classes are being held.  I had assumed they were in the Larkin Building-where the history office are.  But I could not find WI-L9 on the map of West Larkin so I asked.  Silly me, that W wasn't for West nor was the I a lower case L in fact it stand for Wilberforce Hall.  And the nice lady at the History Inquiries office told me what WS stands for Whisk of course!  At least I know where my classes are and as the nice lady said, at least it was a question she could answer... which wasn't the case with the people in line ahead of me.

I got to the classroom an hour early and just got online and chilled until class started.  I met an older, middle aged man named Bruce and we chatted for a bit.  The first part of class will be lecture followed by a 15 minute coffee break and then return to class for discussion.  Personally I'd rather have no break and just end early but that's just me.  During discussion today the prof was insisting that people start thinking about their dissertation and wanted to know if anyone had an idea already.  Seems I am the only one who does.  And now the entire class knows I'm from California, as if the accent didn't give it away.  But it seems as if I am not only the only American in the class but I am the only International student.  Most of the kids there had just gotten their BA and all went to Hull for their undergrad and already know each other.  I think Bruce is the only person in the class who is older than me.  The nice old man thought I was 25.  Bless.  He was quite surprised to discover that I am 32.  He'd not have thought I was that old and I told him it's the Irish in me.

Class got out a little after 6 and Bruce and I walked out.  He went his way and I met Mark who was waiting for me.  I could see him looking out for me and not seeing me.  And then he did and he pointed to his watch and informed me that it was 6:10 and class ended at 6:05.  And because he is such a dear he had brought my peacoat just in case it decided to rain on the way home.  His hip is bothering him so he's fairly sure that we're in for a drenching.  Sounds like fun.  We got home and I made him take 2 Aleve while I heated up left-over lasagna.

Tomorrow I have a Dr. appointment at the local clinic at 11.  I am sure they're going to want to run all sorts of tests to make sure I am in tip top shape.  I suppose we shall see what shall happen but that is, like most things, meant for another post.

Happy Birthday Mark!!

Today is Mark's Birthday and he has had an amazing birthday weekend I am happy to say.


Saturday Uncle Phil and Aunt Anne dropped by with a present for Mark and then we hopped into the car and drove into town.  Aunt Anne thought I would enjoy the Princess Quay (pronounced key in the UK) which is a mall with four floors that has elevators the likes of which they have on a cruise ship.  I had told Uncle Phil to just keep an eye out because I have parking Mojo.  For those who don't know, if I am in the car, great parking places have a tendency to just appear.  But as we went up one level then another with another without any obvious parking places I was fearing that my parking mojo did not work in England.  This was quite disheartening.  Eventually though Aunt Anne told Uncle Phil to go straight instead of turning to go up another level as she saw a parking spot that was cleverly hidden between a support post and a car.


We walked around the mall for a bit and Aunt Anne made sure to point out shops I might like.  We discussed her son's wedding while the men walked a careful distance behind us.  Eventually Aunt Anne brought me to a store called Primark that is bit like Mervyn's.  They had loads of PJs made out of flannel and fuzzy and cotton and all sorts.  And there were plenty of scarves (I was quite excited) and gloves (oh boy!) and all sorts of clothes!!  Mark was feeling a disturbance in the force.  We eventually lost the boys and then had to find them and once we collected the Guntons we went for a walk about downtown.  They showed me the old docks and the docks for the ferries that used to run across the Humber River, which is about the width of the Mississippi.  It's a river that comes off from the ocean so it has tides and when the tide is out it turns into a mud flat.  Quite cool really.


We then continued around, stopped and had a bit to drink.  Mark was able to get me a Diet Coke and once we wet our whistle we continued walking around Old Town.  It's really cool to see these buildings that were built in the 1330s that are still in use today.  We simply don't have history like that.  The house Mark and I are living in is a piece of crap working house built in the Victorian era.  And it still has most of the modern conveniences of the era too.


Uncle Phil then followed his nose and found a chain pub.  We shall not be going back as I've had better fish & chips in CA and they had no Diet Coke... I was forced to drink Diet Pepsi.  Poor Mark felt as if he were letting me down.  He's so sweet.  :)  The four of us had a lovely conversation where I tasted Pimms, what Mark referred to as a salad in a glass.  I also had a taste of a Bitter (beer) called John Smith that my sister would really like.  At one point we passed by a Beer Festival which really intrigued Mark and Uncle Phil... but they resisted.


After several hours of wondering around we returned to the mall where we got some ice cream.  Uncle Phil enjoyed poking gentle fun at me, the way the Brits do, and when we entered Baskin Robbin's he wanted to know why I choose that when we have them in CA.  I objected as Aunt Anne picked it out and gave him a dirty look which only made him laugh.  Then we met a coworker of Uncle Phil whose daughter is a freshman at Hull.  This was the first time in a week she's seen her parents.  :)  And finally we headed back to the car.


There was a father with his two little boys in the garage elevator with us and the older boy had a picker upper thingy that was a dolphin.  He was really cute and when we exited the elevator we realized that we had the perfect parking spot so it appears as if my parking mojo does work in England.  I was so glad.


And then Uncle Phil took us across the Humber Bridge.  It was, until recently, the largest suspension bridge in the world.  It is so long it follows the curvature of the earth!  I learned about it from Top Gear and decided I wanted to go across it.  Uncle Phil & Aunt Anne are Top Gear fans and are on the waiting list to be in the Top Gear audience.  They said it takes up to two years!


Once we have paid the second fee of 3 pounds we pulled over to a park next to the bridge.  We walked about the park area and just enjoyed the afternoon.  It was a beautiful day and there were a million people out and about enjoying the weather I had brought with me from CA.  Uncle Phil went off to find a restroom and I discovered someone selling Diet Coke.  Now, if you know me, you know that when I open my mouth to speak I have no idea which accent will flavor my words.  As it happens when I got to the counter an upper class English accent came out as I asked the nice guy if he had any diet coke.  He said it depended on how cold I wanted it.  He pulled out a bottle and handed it to me.  It was room temperature and I kindly asked about the cans.  He was such a dear he reached all the way into the back and brought forth a can and handed it to me.  I smiled it was perfect and I paid him and enjoyed my spoils.


I talked about it with Mark and he suspects that it because I spoke with an upper class accent that afforded me such dedicated service.  Hey, if it works I'll use it.  :)


Eventually though, we left and returned home.  It was late and Uncle Phil & Aunt Anne had to return home.  We hugged and kissed them goodbye, thanked them for a wonderful day and retired for the evening.


At some point we decided to order some take out.  Our dinner was supposed to arrive a bit after 8 and Mark had to go and collect it sometime after 9.  We will not be returning.  All in all it was a good day and we eventually went to bed.


Sunday Mark and I woke up and breakfast required a quick trip to the Tesco's Express that's across the street.  An express is a bit like the grocery department at Target without the Target.  We returned home, and I proceeded to make Mark his Birthday Breakfast.  He ate every bite.  I love feeding him.  :)  While we were finishing up his friend Simon came over and then we went off to go to a different grocery store and buy food for his Birthday Dinner.  Although I managed to find everything I required-mostly- I found that I had the largest desire for Home than I have ever felt.  I was desperately wishing for Raley's or even Target!!    Something I recognize as being a civilized shopping center!!!  Eventually though we got out of there alive and I was able to start on making the sauce for his lasagna dinner.  I had even gotten a box of toffee cake for his Afters (dessert).  I have yet to bake it but I think I shall work on that in a few minutes.  If there is one thing my boy loves outside of his family and me, it's coffee and toffee.  A smart girl knows what makes her boy happy and I plan on keeping mine delirious, even if I have to dope him with coffee and toffee cake.  


And because I love him, I even gave him veto power in the avon order I plan on making here in a few days.  Our neighbor is an Avon Lady... so nice.  :)


But our day is rapidly coming to a close and I have things I still need to do so I think I shall bid ye all a good evening.

Registration Day!

Today was the day for registration.  Yay!


According to the schedule I got, there was a department meet and greet in the Larkin Building at 1:30.  Mark and I got to the university a little after and wasted time in the wrong side of the building.  He was a dear, however, and went off to find the right place while I waited by a door waiting for some people to end their meeting.  A sign said international students needed to go there, so I did.  I didn't really.  I got my registration packet and discovered that the electives I choose earlier this month were not registered.  This isn't going to be a problem as I was able to choose two elective modules right then and there.


Apparently several members of the department knew of my Visa saga of last year.  Lovely, I already have a reputation but they seemed pleased that I have finally made it!  I know I am and I have a sneaking suspicion that Mark is too.  :)  Once my packet was all signed for I just needed to actually register.  Registration was open from 3-5 today and, as we were walking along we found that today was the day to register for a GP.  Say what?


According to my schedule that was supposed to be on thursday.  Sigh.  Not a big deal though because then we can do it now rather than much later.   So we walk into the building and there's  man who hands me a form to fill out and he asks me where I live and I tell him just off of Beverley and he goes, alright you need to talk to this lady over here.  And then she wants to know where I live so I tell her.  She doesn't know the cross streets.  So Mark had to tell her that we live next to Bull Inn and then the light went off.  And Californians have a bad reputation for stupidity.  Now, when I applied for my Visa there was a warning that said I might  have to pay for any medical costs so I was surprised when I got words that the university requires all students to register with a GP.


I gave the hospital/clinic where I am registering my information and was told they'd get in contact with me in a few days to make an appointment for a physical.  They wanted to know my NHS number, which I will be getting I am sure.  And my previous UK addies, which I don't have and my medical history which is quite brief.  So I shall be getting a physicl, which is a good thing and hopefully I can get their version of levothroid!  :D


And then we continued on to register.  We show up and there are signs pointing the way and a woman asks me if I'm here to register and I said, yes and she asked to see my registration packet and told me to stand in the middle line.  After a few mintues those who were in the Home & EU line were brought in and I was behind them.  Seeing my passport the guy who led us in took me out of line and sent me to a special registration area where they check visas.  Glad I have one.  The woman entered my information into the computer, marked the top sheet and sent me upstairs.  So Mark and I go upstairs where we are informed we need to go down the hallway, last door on the right.  


We get to stand in yet another line where eventually someone else scans my Visa and finishes my registration.  He then takes a picture for my student ID card and apologizes for it being yellow.  Finally we were done and then it gets funny.  Just outside are two girls who are obviously American.  One is from the east and the other is from CA and they weren't sure what to do next.  And I said, do you have your ID card?  They said yes, and I said, then I think that's it, you're done. And I asked if their pictures were jaundices too.  And the girl from the east, a blond naturally, goes what?  I repeated myself and she goes, I'm from the US and we don't really have that there.  And I said, your picture is yellow right?  Jaundice.  She still had no idea what I was talking about.  Surprised the child could find her left shoe let alone England and Hull.


And now we head up to IT so that I can get the laptop connected to the school's WIFI.  That took a while itself as the IT guy didn't seem to be able to speak due to his Hull accent getting in the way of proper enunciation but he was a nice guy and got me sorted out well enough.


By now I was done and I just wanted to go home.  Mark bought some DC and what looked like Whoppers.  They were similar but they didn't taste the same and they were definitely not as good.  


But my I met my master prof. who is reasonably distracted as his wife is due to give birth to a little girl here at any moment.  And Mom, I speak better than my profs- elocution wise.  :)  But then a lot of people speak in their normal regional accents and don't concentrate on speaking "well" as we'd call it.  But that's alright.  What really surprises me is that I have not yet adopted any kind of regional accent, or have lost my American one.  maybe that'll change when I start my classes, but if they're only twice a week maybe not.  I suppose we shall see.

The Saga

Nothing is ever easy for me.  I get through immigration and customs without a hitch, great.  But if that goes well I suppose I should have expected something to go tits up, as the brits say, and I am not to be dissapointed.  No matter what I do, there must be a saga.  And this is mine.


It starts back with my financial aid.  I applied, as did all university bound students, for financial aid before the March 2 cut off date.  I applied for my loans, was approved and I dutifully signed my MPNs.  This was all done by Feb. I think.  Now, once the loans have been approved and the MPNs signed they will inform the university of choice within 24 hours.  Several weeks/months later I wonder why I have not received word from the finance office that they have my MPNs so I look through my old emails and find the financial aid lady who is SG and email her.


I sent her a letter of re-introduction and asked her if she had them.


No.


Sigh.  Okay.  So I have to resign my MPNs.  I do that and I have to wait another 24 hours, which because of the time difference means 2 days instead of 1.  Whatever.  I wait a few days, just to make sure and send her another email.  Do you have them now?  Yes.  Oh good.  But now we need your 8 page SAR.  Okay.  So I call the financial aid office and request my SAR because the university requires it.  I am told it will take 7-14 days.  Really?  Whatever.  Now, this is my fault, I should have remembered that as I needed it the last time I tried to get to Hull.  No problem, this is only July, I have time.  So, eventually I get a copy of my 8 page SAR.  Sweet, if I have them then surely the university does too which means I should get a letter of proof of financials.


A week goes by and no email of confirmation.  I figure that it takes a little longer for it to get to Hull for some strange reason.  But I get nothing from the university so I email SG again.  Do you have a copy of my SAR?  No.  See, last time they got a copy, this time, apparently not.  Ok, can I scan them or do I need to mail them to you?  Scans are fine.  I scan them, email them and wait.  An email comes back saying I need pages 3 & 10.  I had somehow missed 3 & 10.  I send them and it's the end of the day.


So I get to wait for the following day.  Still though, it's no problem... it's just worryingly getting towards August... I have time.  I should be able to get it all done here soon, and I can get my visa and be good.  Nope, now I need to fill out this form.  yes, I want every penny you can give me because I want to make sure I have enough money coming in so I don't have to worry about the financials for my visa.  I email that back and I wait.


And Finally!  I have a copy of my financials.  It's now the end of July and I can finally apply for my visa.  That's the easy part.  I have my biometrics appointment the 29th and then I wait a couple of days for money to come in to pay for the expedited visa fee so I can get my visa sooner rather than later.


After more waiting and fretting and getting into the country I get an email saying that disbursement checks will come on the 20th of Sept.  Great!   So Mark and I walk the almost 2 miles to the university, go up and down stairs, go all over the place to find out that the check might be in the next day when the banks are at the school.  Fine.


So we went another 2 miles home.  And returned the following day only to find that not only is there no check but that the computers are down, there are no letters of introduction and we have to go the bank and register in person.  Granted this is just a few doors down but... annoying none the less.  We are informed that we are required to have an letter of introduction to the bank the following day.  Alright, fine, whatever.  Within nothing more we can do, we return home and have a rather large lunch.


And this morning, after doing a bit of cleaning up, as Mark would say, we got dressed and headed out.  We get to the international office to pick up our letter of introduction as required by the bank to be told that we don't need them.  Umm.... say what?  We are told that there are new protocols in place today and that because the computers are still down the banks are going to send the university the information of the students who are opening accounts with them, then they'll send letters directly to the bank at which point the bank will open our accounts.  And no, it won't help to go to the bank and talk to them, no they won't be able to tell us if they have sent the info to the university and no we won't be told if letters were sent to the bank.  The only way we'll know that this has happened is if we get an email from the bank letting us know our banking information.


We were told this could happen as early as 1 this afternoon.  I just checked my email... nuthin'.  


So Mark & went to visit SG and asked what this means about the check.  It's all out of her hands now so I need to ask someone else.  It could take several days for the bank to send me my details and it's entirely possible that I won't get a check until the 3rd.  I ask SG if I'll get an email letting me know if the check is ready and she said she doesn't know as it's all up to the guy I had to email- from whom I got no other email... great.  


So.  I have money coming to me.  Which I might not get until the third and which I have been told I should have been able to have gotten on the 20th.  I have a bank account I opened which I can't access because the bank and the university haven't figured out how to communicated with each other and I have no idea if or when my money will actually be cut.


At least I know it shall be in pounds sterling.


And registration is on the 26th.  Oh joy.

Welcome Week Day 2

Day two and the International Office was having an open house for banks.  Mark & I had already gone online to check out the bank options in town and decided on the Graduate account with Lloyds TBS which was to start at 12:30.  We were a bit delayed getting there because mark's friend came over to do some laundry and we sat and had a nice chat... that is until his friend tried to tell me that traditional Mexican guacamole never has tomato in it.  Then we had an argument as I took exception to some brit whose idea of mexican food is taquitos.  Really? 


Once he was gone Mark and I headed out and arrived at the International Office where we stood in a very long line to talk to banks.  A woman came out asking for our attention and asked if anyone there was for Lloyds.  Several hands raised and she said that we could just go to the bank office, they've been told to expect an influx of students and that we don't need letters.  So with a canadian girl and an exchange student from WA we went to Lloyds and waited in yet another line for the two harried tellers to get us all settled.


When it was finally my turn I was told that the graduate account is only for residents but that they had foreign student account, at least that's what it sounded like as I couldn't quite hear her over the noise.  So I signed the papers and she said I could bring my letter of intro the following day.


So Mark and I stopped at a bakery, bought a loaf of bread and took the long way home through Pearson Park.  We then stopped off at Tesco's Express, bought a few things for supper, came home, had lunch and we have not been hungry since.


So tomorrow I guess we'll return to the school, get my intro letter, get the bank account active, send that info to the guy who will be sending me my disbursement check.


So not much happened today and I don't think much is going to happen tomorrow either but such is life.

International Office Welcome Week Day 1

I received an email from the financial aid lady telling me to email someone with my particulars, being, when I am going to arrive, do I have a UK bank account and am I living on campus.  I emailed him yesterday saying, arrived, no and no... though in not so few words.  That email also said that funds could be received as early as yesterday.


So yesterday Mark and I worked on making a shopping list of things we need to get and do.  One of the most important items on that list was real coffee.  My dearest has been living off of instant coffee and while he'll drink it, he doesn't really like it.


This was our plan for the day: Go to the school and get my reimbursement check-which will be in pounds sterling and bless the financial aid lady she hoped that was okay with me... uh yeah!  :)  And then we were going to go to staples, get me some school supplies, head to the post office, mail off stuff that people are going to be needing (such as mom's ATM card), return home, pick up Mark's hand held shopping cart and then head to Tescos (sorta like a super wal-mart) and buy food, diet coke, real coffee and everything else that was on our list.  I had planned on getting up at 8 to do all of this.


Instead I wake up at 4 and my brain begins to work.  Mark wakes up and bless him, he adds the item I had just thought of to the list and sits and chats with me, suggesting I take some benadryl to get some sleep.  I do and while I am waiting for it to kick in I decide to check facebook where my loved ones are still awake and ending their day.  I was back asleep by 5 and didn't wake up until 10:30 at which point Mark comes in with a cup of coffee and a DC.  he had gone to the tescos express across the street and had bought me 2 6-packs.  It must be love.


We were soon out the door and went to the campus.  I don't have pictures yet because his camera holds about 4 pictures and that isn't very much.  Once we have a better SD card, I shall do what I do and bombard you with them.  :)  We see a sign that said International Office and hey, we decided to go inside and have a look.  Good thing we did.  They were glad to see me and told me I needed to fill out this yellow form so they know I have arrived.  And no, I had no idea this was needed.  They were quite relieved when I said, no I am not living on campus, yes I do have housing and no I don't need help getting settled in.  I have a Marcos.  :)  They also had a bag for me with nasty fruit cake biscuits, "milk" in pack, instant coffee in a similar pack, tea and a schedule for the international office welcome week.  And no, I did not know they were going to have that, so I am glad we decided to stop in and have a look.


We then went to the campus itself and went to the Financial Office in the Venn building and, after waiting in line for half an hour, were told to go to the student union, second floor.  And after standing in line for half an hour or so we are told the computers are down but I'll check.  We are told then to go to the top floor of the Cohen Building (right next to the Venn building-same building) and ask for Robert.  We go there and we walk to the top of the building-these people don't seem to believe in elevators.  We are then told Robert is at the International Office.  Great, so we go back and are then told he's not in but to leave a message and he'll call back.  So we decide to pop off to a pub for some fish and chips.  


And here is my take on the Grey Mare.  No diet coke, just pepsi, diet pepsi and what they call clear lemonade which is just like sprite without the lime.  So I had that.  I wasn't impressed and with such limited choices in caffeine, I have decided I am not interested in returning.  The fish was more like a whale on a plate but quite good, the fish was obviously fresh, though the fries were obviously cooked from frozen and not really good at all, a bit cold in the middle to be exact.  The peas were untasted by me as I don't eat peas.  Mark does and was not impressed with them.  We then get a call from Robert telling us to talk to the financial aid lady.  So we go back to the financial aid office and talk to her.  She said all was clear and good and that I can get my letter of introduction tomorrow for the banks and that it's possible I'll get my check tomorrow but it's also possible it won't come through until the 3rd.  So I am going to assume that I am getting it on the third but by then I should have a bank account and I can email the guy, give him the particulars and it will be automatically deposited into my account.


There is also welcome week for post-grad students next week and each department has a day for their welcome, for which I don't the date.  The financial aid lady suggested we go to the Larkin building (humanities) and ask a certain person about it.  I decided that I'd rather go home, email my master prof. as they are doing construction on some of the buildings and I really didn't want to bother with it.


We took a different route home and stopped by a different grocery store called Lidle and bought a chicken, potatoes and some olive oil.  I cut up the chicken into its separate parts, cooked a pot of rice (we so need a rice cooker), chopped up a single chicken breast, added some soy sauce and poured that and a thin bit of "sauce" over the rice for dinner.  It was the worst thing I think I have cooked in ages but Mark seemed to think it was good.  He ate everything I put into his bowl at least.  And yes Elizabeth, one can buy a bag of frozen chicken breast, which I will most likely do from now on.


It is now getting quite late and the bank reps are going to be at the office at 10 tomorrow and I want to get an early start.  We still need to go the post office and we need to figure out where I am going to bank so I shall bid you all a fond goodnight and goodmorrow.

Day 1 in Hull

Tuesday, Sept. 20

I came to Manchester and despite my fears, anxieties, paranoia and trepidation it could not have been a more positive experience for me.  The plane landed a bit early at 8:25 rather than 8:40.  We disembarked and were transported along the flight deck to immigration.  Those with British & EU passports were allowed to go through one lane while the rest of us went through another.  They were fairly quick though and we were serenaded with the sound of stamps on passports.  I was just hoping I would get the same thing.  I got into the line about 9 and was through about 10:30.  As a student to Liverpool said while we stood in line, "It's like Disneyland, only not fun."  Heh, tell me about it.

Well, finally it was my turn and I approached the immigration agent who actually smiled at me.  I handed her my passport with my landing card and she said something about students and I said I am a student and she said, Oh!  Okay!  very nicely and then she proceeded to ask if I had my offer letter, instead I gave her a copy of my CAS which told her what I'm studying and we chatted about the problem they're having with "students" who are enrolled in fake universities.  She knew of Hull and even said it was a good school so, bully for me eh, wot?

I was feeling pretty good, my heart rate went down and I was thinking, alright, we can do this!  She asked me about my previous rejection and I told her that I didn't know what I was doing, didn't really know about the CAS, financials or anything and I was just trying to be pro-active.  She was following me and she seemed to like my answers and I was feeling very good until she told me to have a seat while she checked out the rejection.

oh. crap.

But she came back and told me she didn't realize I had come and had been sent back so I told her about that and she knew that one can't get a visa in Philly.  She then smiled and said to me, "Well, you don't need to worry about that today." And she grabbed her stamp and I cannot tell you the smile of relief that cross my face.  And then she said that she's taken care of that rejection notice on my file and I could have sung her praises!  She said I shouldn't have to worry about answering about that now and I asked her if I needed to have my CAS or financials next time I came through and she said I might need to have the CAS but I shouldn't need the financials.  I think I'll just keep them all on me just in any case.  Better safe than sorry.

So I came up to customs and I stopped long enough to ask them if I needed to declare 4 bottles of wine.  The guy I asked thought about it and said, nah you're ok and so I went through and the first thing I saw was Mark and he had something to say so I told him to hush.  I saw that there were some people from Hull there and I ignored them as I walked right to Mark and gave him a huge hug.  It was only until 4 in the morning that I thought of them but Mark said that they were there for a host of students and not me.  Oh, good.

And then Uncle Phil dropped us off, wished us well and headed home.  Mark and I just chatted and ordered pizza of which I ate 1 slice and declared I was no longer hungry.  We chatted and talked and laughed and we eventually had a short nap.  We woke up, ate a bit more pizza and went to be at 9:30 when I simply could not stay up any longer.

The rest, my dear friends, shall be expounded upon in another post.  As it is now, it's almost 6:30 and I should get supper started before I get hungry and will botch the whole thing.