Seeing is not always believing

Ah well, today is the day of our second attempt to convince the immigration authorities that we are worthy of a visa.

Having trawled through mountains of paperwork, I am now convinced of the following:

a) we are married,
b) I bear all the financial risks

Despite that realisation, and the trauma of knowing that today was THE DAY, I did manage to get some sleep last night.

So, everything went in to the High Commission today and finally I got the call I was waiting for

"Your applications are being processed, and you should hear back within a few weeks.......but there is just one thing"

Why do these things never run smoothly? Turns out there's something funny in our medical reports that the visa people might, only might, refer to their specialists, but they won't say what. A quick call to the surgery where we had the medicals and I learn that the radiographer/radiologist (can the experts out there explain the difference to me?) has eyes like a shithouse rat. He's detected a shadow on Mrs C's X-ray that is approximately 0.3cm big! It could be a blood vessel but is more likely to be a scar from a chest infection.....or mild TB!

So I phone Mrs C....."There's good news and bad news, the visas are being processed, but you've got TB!"

The thing is, she tells me she doesn't recall ever being treated for either - the irony of this is that she relays this information whilst coughing down the phone like a Victorian workhouse consumptive! I'm thinking, if NZIS ever phone our house and Mrs C answers the phone, we won't need a medical second opinion! Just my luck to marry a lass from 'Oop Valley' where the summer sun rarely penetrates and the weather forecast on any one day can be summed up with the word "DANK"

Today is also Chipshaker Jr's last day at school, so this morning was a little bit hectic, trying to get together Christmas cards, e-mail address cards to pass on and an extra shirt to get signed. Anyway, we eventually get into the car, and have a chat whilst we are on our way.

Isn't it amazing how your heart breaks for your kids?

We are driving along happily and he suddenly says "[horrible scrote in my class] says I'm only going to New Zealand because you aren't rich enough to pay the school fees and I'm not smart enough to stay at this school"

This from a 10 year old, and one that, at best, struggles to get grades anywhere near my lad's!!

This particular kid is already known to me for regularly expounding publicly his views on how well off his family are and how poor some of his classmates are, but this comment in particular stopped me in my tracks a little bit and brings home the fact that, despite paying a small mortgage in school fees to get a decent kid a decent education, you still get insensitive and arrogant scrotes, no matter how good the school is. I can't begin to put into words how strong was the urge to stay in the car park and wait for this particularly nasty little turd to turn up with his mother, but I eventually dismissed it, knowing I'd only be rising to the bait. I advised Chipshaker Jr to do likewise, and make the most of his last day.

But let me put this into perspective, another boy yesterday gave Jr a very inexpensive compass and said "With that, you will always know where you are going, and which direction to take if you need to find your friends in Bolton". I have to say, that very nearly brought me to tears. How do you explain to a 10 year old that five minutes with a friend like that is worth a hundred times more than a lifetime with the first vicious little tosspot?

Now people have told me that kids in New Zealand aren't nearly as vicious as British kids. I can't begin to tell you how much I hope that is true! If there is only one thing that kids deserve, it's the chance to be kids for a while without rushing headlong into the nasty cesspit that is society in the North West of England.

I so look forward to joining a society that apparently isn't nearly as nasty and self-centred as ours.

Tenei te tangata puhuru huru
Nana nei tiki mai