I’m fairly sure that I would have found it easier to wash up at Brighton as an illegal immigrant seeking political asylum from a capricious and repressive regime (which I suspect it will be under Prime Minister Abbot) than it is to seek a visa legitimately. It has been a long, fraught journey, and it’s not over yet.
The online application system is pretty good and the supporting information mostly good, but maddeningly vague in a number of very key areas. Particularly when it came to advising what happens at each stage of the process, and what supporting documents are needed when seeking an ancestral visa.
I laboured late into the night, last night, to gather all the pieces of paper that I believed I needed for the “visa interview” at the consulate here today. I put on business clothes, and shaved, and wore a tie. And then when I got there I found out that the interview was just taking my fingerprints and yet another photo, and that I still had to bundle all the paperwork into an envelope and send it to Sydney. Based on the price of Platinum Express Post, the Post-Master-General or his modern equivalent must carry it personally on the back of a winged unicorn.
My understanding is that I now have 8 or 10 days anxious wait to find out if they will grant me the visa. I just want this all to be over.