This, too ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- No, I couldn't have told you in the first paragraph and then said something more interesting. To bring up to date those who might, inexplicably, want to know, I present the vague and rambling tale of my Australian visa struggles. I've been in Aus since late October, 2006, on a working holiday visa. That was supposed to last for twelve months. However, one day late in June, while muttering about the approach of the end and the lameness of the UK, I ran into a weird bloke taping a flyer to a lamp post in St.Kilda. A backpackers' in northern Victoria specialising in finding seasonal harvest work through which working holidaymakers can extend their visas for a second term of twelve months. He pretty much refused to let me go without agreeing to grab a free ride up there with his son the next morning. So, off I went. I ended up working for, I think, seven different employers, some found through a contractor at the backpackers', over a period of some hundred days in the Mildura rural city area. 88 days, as it happens, is the number required for my purposes. I finished with a week or two spare on my first visa, and applied on-line for a second term. They check one in ten/fifty/some applications, so popular wisdom has it. I've never met another backpacker who experienced anything other than a speedy no-questions-asked acceptance of their application. Of course, in my case, this was too much to hope for. They decided to run a check on mine, and one of my employers -the one with whom I worked for the longest stretch of my declared work- decided it'd be a fun joke if he were to give a completely different set of dates to the ones I'd declared, landing me in a load of bother. I tried to find payslips, but never received some, while others had ridiculous dates on them ("17/07/07 to 16/07/07 (7 days)", for example). I tried to get statements from my bank (ANZ) but this is Australia, and acquiring a print-out from one of the biggest banks in the country is a modern affair involving Bangalore, five visits, fourteen dollars, a phonecall, some faxes, and one month. Eventually, last week, I put together a long and rambling case, and waited for an E-mail telling me that, hey, we don't believe your long and rambling case, so you've to get out of the country. This has dragged on, remember, since mid to late October, and I've been expecting at any day to be kicked out. Stress, and no point buying a proper bed or owt. Last night I got a phonecall from an unfamiliar number. It came with an unfamiliar Aussie girl's voice, and I spent a good few moments wondering just how well or badly this was going to end. Of course it turned out to be a pleasant enough woman from the immigration department. In short, my point is, like, fuck you, England, I'm staying in Australia. 1:54 p.m. - 2008-02-13 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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