So, down to the Canadian High Commission. Thought it opened at 10:00 but turns out it was 9:30. You take a number, like at the butcher’s - or, to be fair, like the hospital outpatients. We have number 16. We’re seated near the toy corner, which is a nice touch on their part - the existence of the corner, not our sitting there - as the woman next to us ends up waiting over an hour with a little boy who would be about 18 months old. We wait that long too, which is how we know.
One wall screen keeps track of how the queue is progressing. It has a large font bit of welcome, sort of. “Welcome the High Commission of Canada to the United Kingdom”. Ungrammatical, or (as J suggests) an order? But the French has it right: “Bienvenue au Haut-commissariat du Canada au Royaume-Unis”. This is embarrassing, but we decide not to mention it. It is likely to be only one of a number of things we will not mention.
There is a wall rack full of forms. No pens on offer, but the books in the kiddie corner work well as clipboards. First, report forms on lost/stolen passports. Lots of good info to fill in here, even though some of the questions are repetitive. Happy not to be in the embarrassing position of having to answer the “if not why not” regarding whether theft has been reported to the police. Even have a Metropolitan police crime number. Last question slightly odd. Have other provincial or federal ID documents been stolen? Tick box yes or no. But doesn’t ask what documents or provide much space for volunteering info. (Later told that the form asks for said documents, though it definitely doesn’t).
Second wall screen has superfluous info on why you shouldn’t lose your passport. Also info on what forms payment to consular services can take. Basically a credit card with a separate form listing personal info and card number and guaranteeing payment. Or, if one prefers paying in sterling, a bank transfer. Not cash, though probably consulates are not the first place one would choose to dispose of counterfeit currency. This form, unlike some of the others, does not mention imprisonment as one of the possible consequences of messing up.
We also need to fill out new passport applications. Including providing references. Fill in names, addresses, home phone numbers of suitably presentable neighbours. Reach optional box asking for email addresses and “cells”, and am so accustomed to the European habit (regardless of language) of referring to mobiles that my first instinct is to say that our friends are not, to the best of my knowledge, incarcerated. Leave that bit blank. Guarantor section trickier. Must be filled out before request for travel document can be processed. Guarantor can be either a Canadian with a valid passport or a non-Canadian from a list of select professions (much like the old Canadian passport requirements). Lawyers included. So our question is whether they mean licensed to practise or actively employed. Verbal response (one hopes accurate) is that the requirement is that they be licensed to practise.
Other forms require establishing Canadian citizenship. No real space to explain that being born in Germany in 1945 might not make one a former German citizen but simply an involuntary guest of Hitler. And after we leave we reflect that, while the banks have identified us almost instantly, cancelled our cards within seconds of being contacted, and only after that explained the replacement procedure (pretty simple) the High Commission has sent us away with a great deal of paperwork but has not wanted to see our completed stolen passport forms or even asked our names. Seems rather odd as they have the most to say about the dangers of losing a document. Will add to the list of things not to mention.
And also in the not to mention category is the office setup. The toy corner is a cheerful touch, but contrasts with the communication arrangement. The available staff consists of two people behind wickets with thick (presumably bulletproof) glass. Can see that this is a safety measure but the result is rather in conflict with the extensive legalese on the forms re our privacy protection, which would appear to refer to the cyber world only, as the protective glass leads to a great deal of semi shouted information, and we learn rather more than we need to know about the difficulties of the other waiting room attendees.
Jenny kindly invites us to meet her for a drink and dinner. Not only the first REALLY NICE thing to happen this week, but lovely to be able to catch up, having missed Emma’s gathering yesterday. And Jenny, who is a retired barrister, looks at the guarantor section of our forms. The difficulty is that, despite the assurance that retired but licensed is ok, the form asks for a firm. She fills it out giving profession and saying retired but giving previous UK government employment. So fingers crossed.
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