Another Lifetime to go

26th August 2019

The full realisation of my visa predicament hit me like a punch to the face. The thought of not being with Kelli for a year was devastating. I have to navigate through a electronic process that will give me little opportunity to tell my story.

The fact is I overstayed by a day on my ESTA is the reason why I’m in this situation, but I have not found any information on the ESTA web site to show how this is calculated. There was no verbal information given by the boarder officer at my point of entry to raise any alarm, and give me an opportunity to change my return flight.

So really I was living blind to future events, and I could not do anything about it.

I was going to suspend my blog until the crap was over, but Kelli convinced me to continue with it.

This is a difficult time, and writing this blog is good therapy, and helps keep my grey sponge working, and boy do I need that.

25th August 2019

I managed seven hours sleep.

Messaging back and forth with Kelli, a plan was coming together. We both agreed that the immigration visa was the best option, but the process time was a killer. Anything temporary could jeopardise our future together, but we didn’t really know.

I needed to find an immigrant solicitor here to help me negotiate a safe passage through the bureaucracy.

24th August 2019

I still wanted to die. I had let Kelli down, and I still didn’t know what to do.

I was given a sheet of paper with the formal application denial written down.

It said that I could re-apply, so that was an option.

I painstakingly completed another application and logged it on the system. The closest interview date was 15th October at 10.00am.

This was another blow, making me and Kelli sicker than we already were.

The rest of the day was filled with searches and reading of all of the procedures. I learned of the seriousness of visa fraud and how if I had continued with it, and was found out, I could have been barred from entering the US for ever. At least I knew what I couldn’t do.

I felt bad all day, I had less than five hours sleep, and I wasn’t hungry.

Fortunately Kelli had gone on to Facebook asking if anyone could help and give us advice of what to do next.

She had a response from a friend who works for an immigration attorney, and would find out more on Monday.

In the meantime I had set in motion the new application process.

Kelli wanted to pursue the immigration visa as that was more secure and would eventually lead to full residency.

23rd August 2019

It would be very naive of me to think the 11.30 slot at the American Embassy would be just for me.

“Good Morning Mr Butt, the Ambassador will see you now”.

Instead I was greeted by hoards of bodies of every size, shape and colour in a snaking queue of which I had to join.

The email I was sent informed me that I should get there thirty minutes early, so I did, but it made no difference they were running late, so I had to wait.

Waiting is the name of the game, and although I dressed as smart as I could it made no difference, I was shuffled in with everyone.

I think there should have been two lines, one marked “Smartly dressed Englishmen” and the other for “ The scum of the earth”

At the end of three hours of utter boredom, my world collapsed.

My application for a tourist visa was denied, and it was all my fault.

I happened to mention that I would like to explore the possibilities of applying for permanent residency, that was it.

I then had a lecture on the legality of going to the US on this type of visa with the intention of staying. I tried to pull back by saying that I wouldn’t explore, but his answer was that he had heard me say it, and he couldn’t ignore it.

He said I was applying for the wrong type of visa, and suggested I go for an Immigrant visa instead.

I was in shock and numb, and I still had to tell Kelli.

This was the worse conversation I ever had, and I guess it was the same for her.

The process is so automatic there was nobody to talk too, and get advice. I felt such a failure, and I was due to meet up with Tim Wallace afterwards, needless to say I was a bit pre-occupied for that.

I got back to the car for the drive down to Barrington. My head was spinning, I felt sick, and I didn’t know what to do next.

22nd August 2019

I spent the day cleaning the house and sorting some of the things outside in preparation for our Airbnb dummy run.

This, of course has been organised by Louise who is using her friend to act as a booking. This means that I am homeless for the weekend, but Nicola stepped in to offer me a bed, bless her yet again.

Had everything had gone to plan I would have been flying back to the US, but the ESTA issue threw a large spanner in the works.

I had to organise the small bedroom to be the storeroom, so all the junk had to be neatly folded and stacked.

Outside I had to move the composter, that has not sold, to a different place, I guess the next stop will be the recycling centre next week.

I stopped off at Ryan and Louise’s house to see progress on their new bathroom. I had flashbacks to my own experience, fortunately in the distant past, so I know the disruption it causes. It was a great improvement over their original layout, and the remnants of the cast iron Bath was still in the front garden awaiting disposal.

My grandson Marlo had his exam results this morning, and he did really well. He is a clever, geeky kid, who is going to study gaming design and development, so he will really be at home in a small dark room with no windows.

21st August 2019

I was sitting on the patio dunking my ginger nuts in my cup of tea, a pleasurable experience, and no doubt will make my reader snigger.

This is the first time I have sat outside with nothing much planned, taking in the view and not feeling guilty. Sure, there are a few job that have to be finished, but today is a rest day.

My friend Dave’s head appeared above the array of flowers at the bottom of the garden. The layout is almost perfect, the cottage is protected by the flowers, and the meandering path give different views as you ascend. The disadvantage is, I have more steps and longer to walk when I carry up my shopping, but that’s a small price to pay for that inconvenience.

I have known Dave for many years, we ran a small recording studio together in the eighties and later in 2000’s.

I had uncovered some old cassettes with copies of music from our various clients over the years. One in particular was a guy named Mushroom Mick. He was well-known as “the worse busker in Bath” a title given to him by a local trader who complained to the council about the noise. This story was picked up by the local paper and TV station.

We had just started the studio, so we thought it might be good publicity to get him to record a song that he had written to prove to his critics that he wasn’t as bad as he was made out to be.

I remember Dave saying “he can’t be that bad”, words that would come back to haunt him.

We tracked Mushroom Mick down, and made him the offer to record one song free of charge.

I knew from the very start we might have bitten off more than we could chew the moment he opened his mouth. He had a strong Bolton accent, that in itself difficult to understand, but he also had a lisp, and pronounced stutter. The combination of those made it impossible to decipher what he was saying.

We couldn’t back down now, the publicity machine was in motion, so we had to deliver.

We arranged a date, and waited for the experience to begin.

The day arrived, Mick and his entourage descended upon us. He had pulled together a group misfits and vagabonds from every dark corner of Bath, and they were there in Dave’s house ready for this historic session.

We had taken the precaution of locking away anything of value, I was concerned about my gold crowns, so I decided to not open my mouth too wide.

The session started with a run through of the song, at the end of which both Dave and myself looked at each other in horror, our thoughts were exactly the same, he was the worst busker in Bath, and possibly everywhere else.

First things first we had to tune his guitar, it was a battered old thing held together with tape and unmentionable substances. The strings were a mixtures of steel and nylon, it might have been better with baling twine, but we did the best we could.

The band did their best they could to track their parts, every so often Mick would say something intelligible, stuttering like a machine gun to his Scottish girlfriend who we couldn’t understand either.

At one point we joked that we should get a Polish interpreter.

The day was long and tiring, we must have recorded and re-recorded the song a thousand times trying to get a good version that we could work with. Eventually we called it a day, and the group packed up their instruments and faded into the night.

We both surveyed the wreckage of the day, we were both exhausted, but the song “Livin’ in a dolls house” was going round and round in our heads for the rest of the night.

We must have put in over a hundred hours to polish this turd, we eventually asked another musician to overdub different guitar parts over it. Finally we were able to present Mushroom Mick with his song on CD.

It was heavily edited, very little of his guitar was included, but he was over the moon with it.

We did a radio type interview with him, asking if he liked it. To this day, and We have both listened to the tape many times, we still can’t make out what his answer was, but at the end of the tape I had added “That’s easy for you to say”.

This event has given us so much uncontrollable laughter, but at the end we gave him something that nobody else would give him, the chance to be heard.

PS On a sad note I read that he had died in December 2010, but we are left with a great memory that we will never forget.

20th August 2019

It is difficult to get much motivation with the uncertainty of this visa business hanging over me. I just want to go back now.

I managed to take some crap to the tip, and re-cemented the coping stones that edged the patio.

I made a jig from some half inch plywood that allowed me to spread the mortar evenly along the wall. Then all I had to do was set the coping stones on top of the muck, and they were all set at the correct height.

I am sure I had seen something similar, so I wouldn’t claim originality, but it helped a lot.

I have also had to soak up some time “Dead heading” the flowers. I’ve never done that before, wow what a responsible I have now. Ironically I removed the grass because I wanted a maintenance easy garden, but now I have to spend a lot more time on it than before. However I must say all my fingers have now gone green, and I can’t wash it off.

19th August 2019

I went to visit Damian, but really I wanted to see how my newest grandson was doing.

Little George is four months, he was laying in his rocker, going like the clappers with a wonderful smile on his face.

Ethan, the older brother was being a little shit.

I held my tongue, as no one would appreciate any advice I would give directly, so I tried the old trick of diversion. This calmed him down quite a bit, making it a fun time.

I took him out into the garden encouraging him to climb trees, falling out of them is character building, and it would give him something real to cry about.

I’d thought about it, but couldn’t do, when he’s engaged in an activity you can see his little brain working. Most things he does entails throwing or hitting something, but he does it with pure innocence.

18th August 2019

I made a start on getting the shed in order. I have a number of large tool chests that have remained untouched for years. I opened the one at the bottom of the stack and discovered a hoard of wood chisels, about twelve of them.

There were many bolster chisels and mortar trowels, most of which I had been looking for during the renovation.

I had a collection of tenon, coping and hacksaws hidden in another chest.

Thereby it proves that tool boxes are a load of crap, they are gateways to another dimension. Most of the duplication have come as a result of not knowing what I already have, so I go out and buy more, then I find them, I curse, and then put them back in the tool box again, and it starts all over again.

I have the same problem in the US hiding things away from view.

So I have to make a change.

Louise came up to take pictures for the Airbnb website. There was a lot of moving stuff, but suddenly the images she took made it look quite appealing.

17th August 2019

Something that has concerned me for a long time is the condition of the wall at the front of the garden. Over the years some of the stone has crumbled away leaving some unsightly holes. As I have some time on my hands I decided to do a bit of cosmetic surgery on it.

There were some blocks of Bath stone left from the renovation which gives me the opportunity to practice my stonemasonry.

I painstakingly sliced the block up into tiles so that they could be cemented into the holes, and improve the walls appearance.