45 months


45 months to the day since we first sent them our application and we almost have an answer but it is not the one we had been hoping for. For four years we have been planning our move to Canada and now we might not be able to go. According to a man in an office somewhere in Grosvenor Square, we are not who we say we are, we have not done the things we have claimed to have done and we are not welcome in the country that we love & still think of as home. 

Last night we were both pretty devastated and in shock. We just couldn’t understand the reasoning behind their decision, having been so confident in the file of evidence we sent all those years ago. We couldn’t understand how our patience and acceptance of their painfully slow process had not been rewarded with better news. We talked about our future and Forrest’s future and the life we want for our family. We discussed pulling the application entirely and just forgetting the whole thing. I think we are both pretty exhausted by the whole process. But here we are on the cusp of a answer and we owe it to ourselves to keep going. Today I dragged a mountain of paperwork out of the cupboard, ready to rebuild the case from scratch. We have sixty days to prove them wrong and you bet we are going to fight them all the way. 

My gut tells me it’s probably all in vain and will all end rather badly but all we can do is try. And if not, there is always Iceland (I joke you not; it is truly the most beautiful place on earth). Either way, the great escape continues…


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