BLIZZARD: Canadians with British citizenship get dinged in wallet to visit U.K.
· Toronto Sun
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Britain’s socialist government has found a lucrative new revenue stream — and it’s hitting Canadians and ex-pats in this country hard on the wallet.
I have dual citizenship in Canada and the United Kingdom. Like thousands of other ex-pats, I discovered that travelling to the U.K. on a Canadian passport would in future cost me 589 pounds sterling ($1,112) for a “certificate of entitlement to right of abode,” unless I get a British passport.
It struck me as utterly bizarre. I was born in Britain. Why would I be charged an exorbitant amount of money to travel there on my Canadian passport? (Canadians who don’t have dual citizenship pay around $40 for an Electronic Travel Authorization.)
My last British passport expired in 1975. After that, I had Canadian citizenship. Not being a spy or an international woman of mystery, I travel on only one passport. And it’s Canadian.
Applied for U.K. passport
Nevertheless, I made an application to His Majesty’s Passport Office. As I haven’t had a U.K. passport for almost five decades, I didn’t exist as far as they’re concerned. I had to send all my foundational documents: birth certificate; marriage certificate (to show my name change); a colour copy of every page of my current Canadian passport, back to front; a British passport that expired in 1975. And I had to send the original documents — not copies. Reluctantly, I packaged all my flimsy foundational documents and nervously sent them registered mail, recorded delivery, at a cost of $80.
In return I received an e-mail from His Majesty’s passport elves.
“The passport you have provided does not appear to confirm your entry to Canada,” it said. I was required to send proof of my arrival within six weeks, or my application would be cancelled, documents returned and I’d have to start all over again.
I was mystified. I’d held on tenaciously to my old U.K. passport precisely because it confirmed my arrival in Canada. No digital attachments back then. Stapled to one of the back pages is a slim piece of paper recording my arrival in Dorval Airport, Montreal in 1965. That scrap of paper provided me with my all-important landed immigrant status in this country. I’ve guarded it carefully ever since. His Majesty’s elves missed that vital piece of information.
I wasn’t allowed to respond by e-mail. I had to send further documentation by snail mail. I sent them my certificate of Canadian citizenship. Another registered letter; another $80.
Born and grew up in Britain
I was about to give up. I contemplated never visiting the county of my birth again, but just couldn’t make that call. Much as I’m a proud Canadian, I was born and grew up in Britain and I celebrate that heritage. I love London. Not for me a sunny beach vacation on a tropical island with coconuts and pina coladas. No, give me London on a rainy November day. A concert at the Royal Albert Hall; a trek through the National Portrait Gallery and a couple of museums; a spot of retail therapy on Oxford Street and a gin and tonic.
The 11th century Bayeux Tapestry, on loan from France, will be on display later this year at the British Museum. I’d love to see it.
So I persisted with my application. I had to provide the dates and place of birth of my parents, both long dead. And a friend living in the U.K. had to vouch that the photo I’d provided was in fact me.
Finally, I was approved. I have my smart new British passport. My documents and the passport were all returned safely to me by courier — in three separate packages. In all, it cost almost $500 — 145 pounds sterling ($280) for the passport and $160 postage.
Meanwhile, I went online when tickets to the Bayeux Tapestry went on sale. There were more than 40,000 people ahead of me.
Guess I’ll wait another 10 centuries and try again.