I couldn’t put off the rescheduling of my flight home any longer. I was cutting it close as it was. London is distractingly wonderful but lacks what the west coast of Canada has in abundance.
Unfortunately, the flight change would push my departure date passed my passport expiry date. And with a few horror stories of Canadian travellers arriving home on other passports, I was immediately entered into the overseas passport renewal game. The initial frustration of this inconvenience was ameliorated by the possibility that the queue at the passport office at the Canadian Consulate in Trafalgar Square would be considerably shorter than any in Canada.
The prospect of finding a guarantor over here, however, would be the challenging part – having only lived in London for just over 15 months, finding someone who meets all the requirements would be tricky. The main sticking point was that whoever agreed to sign to my honest likeness, would have to have known me personally for over two years – doing the math at lightning speed, I calculated that I hadn’t met anyone in London since my arrival who would be suitable.
Secondly, whoever signed to my authenticity would have to have one of the listed government jobs. The application states that the list is not an endorsement. These eligible jobs help establish that solid network of trusted Canadians vital to passport authenticity. With more relatives in Britain than recipes in one of Jamie Oliver’s cookbooks, I didn’t despair. There was surely someone who would do.
Well, having most recently dined in Shepherd Market with my second-cousin-once-removed, he was quick to the mind of possibilities. As a military officer, or more specifically a naval officer who just happens to be equerry to H.R.H. the Queen of England, he struck me as solid enough of character onto whom the Canadian Government would be most pleased to firmly place a pillar of that trusted Canadian passport guarantor network. How foolish I was in my hasty assumption. A quick reply from the C.C. email hotline confirmed that military officers are not acceptable guarantors. Granted, I understood that the job title ‘assistant to the Queen’ wasn’t on their ‘this-is-not-an-endorsement’ list – I hoped that his military standing would put him on par with London’s finest fuzz, a title that did make the cut. Alas, there was no room for leniency or even a nod of the Mountie hat to the spirit of law’s intention.
Well, a judge is definitely on the ‘this-is-not-an-endorsement’ list. Secure in the knowledge that the one of my first-cousins-once-removed-in-law was a British Judge of the Appeal Court whom I met more than several years ago during his trip out to Canada, I didn’t give up hope in my search. After chatting with my new found possibility over the phone, he most kindly agreed to be a pillar for the Canadian Government passport network.
During the preparation of the package (to be sent off to my guarantor for signing) I double checked the size of the passport photos I recently acquired only to find that they were, alas, oversized. Photographers don’t get many requests for Canadian passport photos, I guess – at least in the heart of bustling Crisp Street market in East London. To be fair, the store was very kind in retaking the photos free of charge after I explained the size discrepancy.
Man, was I glad to get that package off my hands! When it returned completed, my judge indicated that he was now semi-retired – a fact of which I was unaware at the time of my request. No matter how long or esteemed a career a judge might have, semi-retiries are not on the ‘this-is-not-an-endorsement’ list and consequently aren’t eligible guarantors.
With time running out, my last option was to fill out the PPTC 132 ‘Statutory Declaration in Lieu of Guarantor‘ (available from any Passport Canada office) form, pay the £22 fee, brave the early morning rush-hour tube traffic and drop in during the Consulate’s 9:00 to 13:00, Mon-Fri office hours hoping for the best. I passed through the metal detectors and token Canadian art gallery before catching the elevator up to the small but apparently efficient passport office complete with your mildly frustrated Canadian family, really frustrated post-university twenty-something Canadian travellers, two Plexi-glass covered service booths, one private meeting room and no queuing system in sight. The main administrative help behind glass, I learned later, had a little-known superpower for spotting who among the lounging frustrated was next in line.
After an hour wait reading the sparse and uninteresting magazines and chatting with one of the other twenty-somethings, it was my turn. Yay! Thankfully I was prepared and my application seemed to be in order. And after requesting someone before whom I could declare my honesty, authenticity and truthfulness in less than 30 seconds, I was £22 more cynical and out the door, relieved nonetheless.
To clarify, my cynicism was not connected with the efficiency of the London passport office, which on the whole responded to my queries and produced my new passport quickly. It was a result of the adherence to the letter of the law (regarding eligible guarantor employment) when my guarantor possibilities only fit the spirit of the letter’s intention (to build a trustworthy network of Canadian citizens). That on it’s own might have passed with indifferent excusableness had it not been for the simplicity and economic grounding of the only alternative left to me: The complete flouting of the spirit of the law for £22 of notary service. All of this in light of the fact that four months down the road, guarantors would no longer need to hold one of the ‘this-is-not-an-endorsement’ jobs – just a Canadian passport.
At least my passport photo didn’t suck.
Tags: next of kin