My hotel room

Last week I was in a handicap-accessible room, and the "visual fire alarm" kept going off! All that meant was that the light by the door kept pulsing, like a lighthouse, so it wasn't too annoying, but I kept mentioning it to the hotel who obviously weren't fixing it. So one night I took care of it myself. (Don't worry, I put it all away before housekeeping saw it.)

Things in my life

I saw my therapist yesterday, for the first time in three months, and it was such a pleasure.  I hadn't seen her simply because my job has me travelling all week (although I'm trying to get that reduced to three days a week.)  I had already compiled a list of things that are broken in my life, although some of them (such as my car) were pretty mundane, and in fact I already have an appointment to get that fixed.

The biggest thing, of course, is my 'indefinite leave to remain,' which I've been waiting five years for, and should have in less than a month.  That's huge because it was the one thing rooting me here, the one thing in the UK that had worked out for me. In addition, I didn't expect to get that until November, so the idea of having it by the end of April is quite a shock.  It has uprooted me and unsettled me, even more so because I hate the project I am on, and am expected to be on for another nine months.

So everything is open again: I can move anywhere, I can do anything, but what do I really want?  That is the crux of the matter.

What will happen, in all likelihood, is that I will stay in the UK another year to achieve citizenship.  (Indefinite leave to remain gives me the right to live and work in the UK, but not full citizenship.)  I could, of course, change jobs, or I could just move up north -- most of what I hate about my project is the travelling and staying in hotels.  While I would certainly feel lonely moving up north, it's just another opportunity to establish myself.  (Plus there is a sizeable Jewish community in Manchester, as well as an excellent vegetarian restaurant.)

What it all comes down to, though, is that I'm not moving *to* anything.  I'm not running away, I'm just changing seats, which I find very unsatisfying.  However, right now I'm just wasting time, filling it up with pointless distractions, which makes me feel even more depressed.

These are all thoughts I've been internalizing for a while, but it was lovely to voice them with the therapist, which gives me a certain strength, a platform to move on from.  However, as she pointed out, Spring will be arriving here at some point and the world will start to look a bit rosier (or at least daffodilish) and so perhaps I should wait a bit longer before making any drastic decisions.

My travels

When presented like this, seems amazingly pathetic

Chester Zoo photos

You are invited to view Gregg's photo album: Chester Zoo 2013 Chester Zoo 2013 Mar 16, 2013 by Gregg View Album Play slideshow

Settlement

I passed my 'Life in the UK' test today.  When I booked the appointment, I took a sample test and scored 90%, so I wasn't concerned and hadn't studied.  Then last week, in Chester, I was chatting with a waitress who happened to be American, and she told me the test was quite hard.  I immediately bought a study guide, and thank goodness I did.  I would have had no idea 'How many weeks paid paternity leave can a father claim?" (Answer: 2.)

The next hurdle was to try and get a 'premium' appointment with the Border Agency.  This is just a face-to-face appointment, as opposed to applying by mail.  Now you'd think any reasonable country would want to meet you, ask some questions, get a sense of who you are before allowing you 'settlement' in their country.  In the UK it's strictly a bureaucratic function--and quite a profitable one, as they charge over £1,000 (US $1,500) to 'process' your application by mail! The downside is they take about six months to do so, and you cannot travel outside of the UK while they do so!  (Technically you can travel out, but you aren't getting back in...)

So the 'premium' appointment is an additional £400, bringing the total to an eye-watering US $2,100, but you should get a decision (and your passport) back on the same day.  The catch is that these appointments really are at a premium -- the Border Agency releases them six weeks in advance, and they are snatched up within seconds of being released.  In fact, I recently read an article that because these are in such demand, agents outside the UK are making quite a bit of money by reserving these slots and then selling them.

My experience was frustratingly similar to those mentioned in the article--when I logged on to the Border Agency website at midnight, I could see and even select a slot, but when I tried to book it the system crashed, took 10 minutes to come back and, to add insult to injury, it then said I had taken too long and my slot had been released!  Of course, when I searched again, no slots were available.

So it was with some incredulity on the third night of trying, the system actually responded that I had booked a slot!  However, I've since gotten a confirmation to appear on April 18!  So, aside from having to part with a ridiculous amount of money, this looks like it might be a fairly easy process!  (Famous last words...)

Meanwhile, in preparation for surrendering my passport for six months, I've already planned three trips abroad over the next six weeks: Ireland, Amsterdam, and Andalucia.  I've also been invited to Istanbul in June, but I turned it down because I didn't think I'd be able to travel.  Well, I still won't be able to go because I won't have any money!

Chester

As I've been consigned to the hinterlands of northern England, I've been trying to make the best of it by taking every other weekend to explore the area, starting with Glasgow a fortnight* ago, and last weekend in Chester.

The Romans were in England from 43CE to 410CE and built a number of cities, the most famous of course being Londinium, now known as London. Chester was a Roman town built on a sandstone outcropping along the River Dee, established to control north-west England.  In fact, "chester"
is from the Latin "castra", meaning a military camp or fort.  Any town that ends in "-chester" or "-cester" was likely of Roman origins, such as  Manchester, Winchester, Gloucester, and Leicester.  (Note that "-cester" is pronounced "-ster" except for "Cirencester.")
    

Chester, like most Roman towns, was a walled city.  It still retains many of its walls, plus a 900-year-old cathedral. One of its unique characteristics, however, are "The Rows," which are shops on two levels, with a public walkway on both levels, that go back to the 12th century.  There are a couple of theories, but the most plausible was that because they city was built on sandstone, it was too difficult to dig a basement, but the shops still needed storage so the ground floor became a storeroom and the shop was built above.  As the city grew and space became more valuable, the storerooms were converted to ground-floor shops, as well.

But the practical effect is to give the streets a surreal, Disney-like feeling. The roads are still cobbled, and the main roads form a cross with a church at the center, so it is visible (and audible) from any part of the town.  The houses are generally tudor, with the strong black-and-white markings and appalling craftsmanship that make you wonder how they are still standing, 400 years later.  Although most of the shops are typical high-street stores, you can't help but feel like you've been transported to the past.  The only other place I've felt like that is York, which is hardly surprising--York was a Roman town built to control north-east England.

Sadly, what let Chester down is its cathedral.  To be fair, it's a beautiful cathedral, although the Victorians went a little nuts and decided to change its authentic Gothic exterior with a 'Gothic revival' exterior, full of decorative spirals and flags and whatever took their fancy.  The interior is still fairly authentic, but it does not have that 'awesome' (in its strict definition) feeling of the York Minster.  So after much soul-searching, York still retains the title of my favourite UK city.

I also think York is more cohesive, if that's the right word -- you can wander all over York and still feel the magic. If you leave the main streets of Chester, however, the spell is broken and you're faced with 60's redevelopment, concrete council houses, and car parks.

 

* Two weeks. Learn English.

Life in the UK

On Saturday I have to take a citizenship test to show I can assimilate into British society. Fair enough, but you have to live here 5 years before you can take the test, and much of it is geared for the recent immigrant! If, after 5 years, I haven't sorted out my water and electric, I have bigger issues than citizenship.

If they were going to give helpful information on integrating into society, may I suggest the following as a starter for 10*:
- England, Britain, and the UK all have specific meanings, even though Brits use them interchangeably
- Putting a comma after the penultimate (or next-to-last) item is known as an "Oxford comma," and it confuses the Brits (see previous sentence)
- Brits (or Britons) like to put pork into everything
- Brits like to put brown sauce on anything that contains pork (i.e. everything)
- Baked beans may be served at any time of day, with any type of food
- Britain operates without a constitution and the monarchy, the House of Lords, and the Courts are not allowed to challenge the House of Commons. They call this "democracy"
- In the UK women have rights, do not have to cover their heads, and stoning them for any reason is strictly prohibited
- In the UK you will pay 40% income tax,  20% sales tax, and 10% other taxes (including council tax, road tax, petrol tax, and television license). If you can't live on the 30% remaining, the UK offers a host of benefits that you aren't eligible for
- Do not try to understand anything anyone from Scotland or Northern Ireland says; it just encourages them to talk faster
- "The Only Way Is Essex" is not real, but you'll be forgiven for thinking that everyone from Essex is a twat
- Britain is an  island but you can still take a bus to Ireland or France
- Britain is a medium-sized country but there's no reason to ever leave London
- Walking is actually faster than taking the London tube
- 92% of the UK population is white, and 92% of the UK population spend most of their time complaining about immigrants
- White Brits can't distinguish between immigrants and non-white Brits
- Since 2004, Poles have completely ruined the country by bringing in skilled labour who charge reasonable rates and don't stop for tea breaks every 20 minutes
- The UK Border Agency is a joke, and the fact that you are even taking this test and trying to immigrate legally--and giving us thousands of pounds to do so--makes us think you're kind of stupid
- Even if you jump through all the hurdles and we don't change the rules *again* then even after you're a naturalised citizen everyone will still assume you and your children are skiving, freeloading bums scamming the welfare system (unless you're white, of course)

* "Starter or 10" is from a game show, but has evolved into meaning an initial suggestion.

I dreamt of my uncle last night.

He called me and was scared and didn't know where he was. I figured out which hospital he was at from the background noises, and as I got there he was just sneaking out (in a red hoodie).

I could tell he didn't recognise me but I gave him such a hug anyway, even as I did so I was thinking this must be a dream because I knew he was gone. Then I took his hand and started walking him home, and was talking about all the things we would do, and how I would take care of him, and then I noticed my hand was empty and he was gone.

And I thought it was better this way, that I was glad he had gone so quickly, but that a little bit of him was still alive in me.

Glasgow

To set some context, I was not expecting much out of Glasgow. Although it's the biggest city in Scotland, it's strictly an industrial heritage; the cultural heritage is in Edinburgh. If I can draw a comparison, Edinburgh is to San Francisco as Glasgow is to Los Angeles.

I never actually wanted to go to Glasgow, but I had a business meeting in Penrith on Friday, and had an empty weekend, so I looked at the map, shrugged my shoulders, and gave a half-hearted "what the hell, let's go to Glasgow."

I knew I booked a cheap hotel, but I still wasn't prepared. For starters, it was on the ground floor but to access it you had to go down one flight of stairs and then up another! The bathroom was bright pink, the room overlooked a busy street, and the bed was so lumpy my back still hasn't recovered. But after a certain point it stops being annoying and becomes funny, and this was hilarious. So now if you look at TripAdvisor you'll see a steady stream of one-star reviews interrupted by my 4-star review labelled 'quirky and fabulous!'

Unfortunately that was my only good review for Glasgow. The Kelvingrove museum was in a fantastic building but it was just a sprawl with no rhyme or reason--one exhibit compared animal adaptions with human tools, such as walrus tusks and swords. You just had to shake your head.

I took a tour of the University of Glasgow, established in 1451, but the campus was only 100 years old. The Glasgow cathedral was authentically medieval, but the Victoria pollution had turned the sandstone black and so it was quite disheartening, inside and out.

I was also not impressed with Glasgow's patron saint, St Mungo, who is known for four miracles: The bird that never flew, the tree that never grew, the bell that never rang, the fish that never swam (which almost rhymes, in that it doesn't rhyme at all.)

From Wikipedia:
The Bird — Mungo restored life to the pet robin of Saint Serf, which had been killed by some of his classmates, hoping to blame him for its death.

The Tree — Mungo had been left in charge of a fire in Saint Serf's monastery. He fell asleep and the fire went out. Taking branches from a tree, he restarted the fire.

The Bell — the bell is thought to have been brought by Mungo from Rome. It was said to have been used in services and to mourn the deceased.

The Fish — refers to the story about Queen Languoreth of Strathclyde who was suspected of infidelity by her husband. King Riderch demanded to see her ring, which he claimed she had given to her lover. In reality the King had thrown it into the River Clyde. Faced with execution she appealed for help to Mungo, who ordered a messenger to catch a fish in the river. On opening the fish, the ring was miraculously found inside, which allowed the Queen to clear her name.

And finally, I walked around the city centre which appears to be one giant shopping centre. Worse, most of the shops were chains--it was very difficult to find any independents! So all in all, I thought Glasgow was better than expected, but only because I had no expectations.

That said, there are still many places around the north of England I'd like to check out, and I'm planning to spend every other weekend up there. The Yorkshire dales, the lake district, and the Hebrides should be fantastic in spring. Dublin, Belfast, and the Isle of Man are a short ferry-ride away. Manchester and York are worth another visit. I still haven't seen Hadrians wall and I'd like to visit Blackpool.

I may try skiing again--it's been 20 years since the last time, and the pain and humiliation I felt then has faded a little.

Hell weekend

The weekend after next is going to be insane. As I've been working in north England, and was going stir crazy trapped in hotels (primarily because of my irrational avoidance of taxis--is there a word for cab-phobia?) I brought my car with me. However, because I hate to drive, I take the train home. That works great during the week but on the weekends my options are limited, so I lump everything that requires a car into one weekend, and then drive my car home.

So weekend after next I'm driving Thursday night (180 miles), Friday I have to do security at my synagogue (40 miles round-trip), Saturday I'm visiting my friend in the Cotswolds (63 miles), then Sunday I have to go back to Maidenhead* (63 miles). Monday morning I have to drive to Thornbury (97 miles) for a business meeting before driving back to Runcorn (155 miles). That's 600 miles in 4 days!

What's worse is that my business meeting on Monday is literally 10 minutes from where I'm staying on Sunday in the Cotswolds! However, I've been invited to discuss my 'Jewish journey' for a potential presentation at Limmud, a Jewish conference in May. While I don't think my journey is that interesting or unusual, there are several other people participating and I asked them to reschedule to this weekend specifically when I'd have my car, so I'd feel guilty pulling out now.

I could also cancel my business meeting on Monday, and just do a conference call, but when they asked me if I wanted a tour of a nuclear plant, of course I said "yes!!" and so they've arranged access for me, and I'd feel quite bad cancelling that.

So in the end, the person who hates driving, is tired of travelling, and just wants to spend some quiet time at home is going to spend 10 hours on the road and only be home one day before heading back up north. Insane.