Eish! London April 6

3 April 2009
I’M OFFICIALLY IN LONDON

Monday, 6 April – From West Harrow to Central London is 40mins by train.

Actual diary entry:

“Monday 6 APRIL 2009. I’m on my first train ride from West Harrow to Baker Street on the Metropolitan Line (I’m reminded of the 1980s song Baker Street). I’m looking around me in the carriage, and yip – just as I was told – no-one is smiling. The sun is shining though, and I’ve even had my sunshades on; great to be able to use them. I decided not to bring my Ipod with me, unlike the people on the train, and instead I’m simply absorbing the moment of being here.

I got on the train at 10h52 and I’m heading to my first Agency interview in Tottenham Court Road. I’m hanging on really tightly to all my important documents too. Lord PLEASE keep them with me and let me not lose them or have them taken away from me. Thanks.

I’m thrilled that I have been receiving so many sms’ from people back home; it really was a bonus to be able to give them my number at my farewells. Jane did end up getting me a pay-as-you-go sim card, but whatever package she has put me on is really expensive, so I’ll have to investigate my options to change that. She is on contract so has never worried about pay-as-you-go options… I seriously feel like I’m on holiday. I reckon I can do this for two years; take a 2 year holiday adventure from life, whilst I go about getting famous

I can see are beautiful blossoms outside the train through its graffiti-etched windows, it’s wonderful to see that spring is definitely in the air. Often back home in Durban you can’t see the difference between the seasons because they seem to melt into one another at a fairly constant temperature and most plants are evergreens. I reckon London is going to be very different from Durban.

Things I need to get whilst I’m out:

Definitely need to get some lunch, I’m starving!

A camera case. (I’m still bleak about that)

Some slippers and track suit pants (I ended up hurling them both somewhere across my mother’s lounge in the frustration of weight restriction packing…)

Not sure if it’s the nerves or the travelling or everything that I’m living through, but my tummy is running. Not cool.

11h50

I’ve stopped in at one of the huge brand coffee stores and ordered a cinnamon, apple and raisin muffin; unfortunately it has cobwebs on it. So much for absorbing this moment. Gross. What a waste of Pounds. At least the mango and passion fruit water tastes good. I’m having depressing thoughts that getting used to the food here is going to be a mission for me.

Another reason I stopped here, other than hunger, is because it became apparent that I got off at the wrong station and had to walk, what felt like, most of Oxford Street to get to Tottenham Court, whilst seriously needing the toilet again. L My map of London shows me that at least it looks like I’m heading in the right direction… only one way to find out.”

The agency was based in a big office block. I had to wait in the reception area which was grey and claustrophobic. I sat next to the water-cooler, actually almost on top of it, as the seating area was so cramped. I had to fill in loads of forms and find information from different places in my file; whilst balancing a clipboard on my knee, altogether a most unprofessional set-up. They didn’t trust any of my South African Police certified documents and wanted to copy the originals of everything themselves. So why was I told to get certified copies? What a waste of weight and money; how irritating. At least I brought the originals with me.

When I had finished my balancing act the Russian (or maybe more Eastern European?) receptionist ushered me into a mini-board room, surely I could have completed the forms in here? Ridiculous. I wait on my own twiddling my thumbs, eventually the lady I had been corresponding with via email. She was all flustered and literally rushed through a whole load of details, even though I’ve said I’m jetlagged and haven’t done any of this before. She gives me more papers and checks through other ones, which I have pretended to read, because everyone knows you don’t sign anything until you have thoroughly read it. Following which I irritated her by asking for photocopies of everything {even though it was already signed, I figured I may need to read it one day}. She said she had another appointment and a consultant would see me now, she’d bring the photocopies in a short while. I think: “Oh, OK. Then who was she? What was the interview I’d just had all about?” I’m confused.

Next thing this suave, thinks-he’s-all-that Australian sales type guy walks in and repeats what the first lady had already told me. This guy doesn’t rush, oh no, he reclines in his chair, looks at me from a forty-five degree angle most of the time and seems to sell me the post that I’ve already taken, and waffle on whilst cracking the lamest jokes ever; and all I could think is: Who is this idiot? How on earth can I let someone so blasé be the person to get me work? I hope they don’t handle work like they handle interviewing new teachers: disorganized and self-absorbed. Oh dear, this is not looking good… I really felt like the joke was on me. I think I asked some decent questions even though the fuzziness of jetlag was crashing down on me.

Then he tells me I have to get a British Police Clearance, that CRB thing. Now was my chance to ask why I needed a Clearance when I’ve been here such a short time:

“But I’ve only been in the country for 24 hours, what are they going to be able to check?”

“Even so, you need to get police clearance here before you can work, so fill in this form and pay the 36 Pounds and we’ll sort it out for you. We send them your form and they will run the police check off that. It takes about 6 weeks.”

I choke! I didn’t budget for that! Thirty-six Pounds! The fact that he has avoided my question, and that police were going to investigate my 24 hours of criminal activities fell by the by. Thirty-six Pounds! Rent, deposit, travel, things I need to work… I see my miniscule 1000 Pounds draining away very quickly. Oh dear…

“So I can’t work for 6 weeks?” I ask. Panic!

“No, some schools will accept your South African clearance, but most won’t. We’ll place you in schools that will take you.”

Great, only some schools will take me, others think I may be a criminal! What kind of city is this? I fill in the form and leave it with the rest, no way am I handing over 36 quid though. These guys seem like a bunch of morons. What police check can be valid off a residential address I’ve lived in for half a weekend? Oh, he’s saying something and handing me something:

“Here is your letter from us to confirm you are working for us, so you can get a bank account. You can’t work unless you have a bank account. So you need to send us your details when you have them.”

“So I can’t work without a bank account?”

“No, you can work; only we can’t pay you until you have a bank account.”

“But I can’t get an account if I’m not being paid?”

“That’s what the letter is for, to say that we have employed you.”

This is so much admin! I take out my pen, turn over one of the photo-copies they have given me and make notes on all the things I have to do. CRB, Bank Account, banking details to agency. I scribble in the hope that I will remember.

“Oh and another thing get an A-Z map book ofLondonfor your supply teaching. It’s a map book that covers every area inLondonso you don’t get lost.”

“Right, don’t get lost, scribble that down, that’s important!” I tell myself. I went and bought an A-Z that afternoon; only to find on opening the smaller version of the book I’d bought, that it covered only Zones 1 – 5 of London Town, so that meant I’d have to take the book and till slip back and pray I could get a book with Zones 1 – 6 in it.

Then I’m ushered out of the mini-board room quickly, it appears another candidate it waiting. They must do all their interviewing during the school holidays, like herding cattle. I sit down, take a drink of water, find out how I get to the bank they’ve told me to go to, pack up all my papers and head off to open an account.

I get to the bank and spend an hour in there with the lady who came from northernEurope; she was a fabulously friendly character and was far better company than the other two agents had been. She went through all my options and discussed how banking inEnglandworked. She was very kind and helpful. Unfortunately London banking works on a credit rating system, and the credit ratings are attached to residential addresses, and someone who had lived in the house Jane was staying in had a very bad credit rating, so the computer system refused to let me have an account. This meant the only way I could get an account was to prove that I stayed at an address with a good credit rating. I discussed it with the European lady and she said I should come back and we could try again with another address, if I had one. The system had refused me today, so nothing could be done. She gave me an appointment card to pre-book my next appointment beforehand so she would know to expect me.

I managed to get home before Jane, which was a relief because were sharing a set of house keys. When she heard about the bank refusing me an account she told her landlady who, in turn, was furious, because she has always maintained an excellent credit rating. Jane suggested it may be best to use her Mom’s address. I still had 3 interviews with the other agencies to go to, so they could give me another letter with Jane’s Mom’s address on. What was the biggest worry for me? Jane’s Mom lives in Coventry! Nevertheless I was hoping that the plan would work and it wouldn’t look like I was a criminal up to fraudulent activities. What choice did I have? No bank account, no income. No income, no home or food…What a pity the banks here aren’t interested in my exceptional credit rating back home. Oh well, we shall see what happens.

Thankfully Jane had brought her work laptop home, so I was able to check my emails on her home laptop. I emailed my ‘adventures’ thus far to an ex-Pinetown Girl’s teaching colleague who had immigrated to Australia in February:

Date: Mon, 6 Apr 2009 20:04:47 +0000
Subject: Re: UK
To: NJ

Hello gorgeous lady

Well not much to report… I landed like just over 24 hours ago.

I missioned Oxford Street today and had a cob-webbed muffin! I was not impressed.

I was rejected by the bank – so I have to go back to them on Wednesday… will see how that pans out.

Job interview went well… reckon I’ll supply teach for now and go for a permanent post at a decent school in Sept – the start of their school year.

I’m off to see a varsity mate for the Easter weekend which should be good.

Jane – the friend I am staying with has been AMAZING! Bless her! She bought me a duvet, sheet, phone card, oyster card, toothbrush, toothpaste, liquid soap and food! Awesome! Jane has been a SUPERSTAR, I have no idea what I would’ve done without her.

Otherwise I’m still jetlagged and it is still totally surreal… I have to look into a place to stay soon and get my feet firmly set before heading to pursue STAGE options

Hang in there for your Australian visa – I’m sure it will come soon!!!

God Bless & Big Hugs

Miss L