Friday February 12

Mark:

Damn. I can’t believe it. Ten thirty in the morning and Maja’s been on this already. A little hello chat and she says, ‘I think my driver’s licence should work.’ What now? That’s all she says about it as an introduction. Not, ‘I’ve been thinking about it,’ not, ‘Were you serious what you said last night?’ No. ‘I think my drivers licence might work.’ ‘That tells me someone’s been thinking,’ I say. ‘Of course, ‘she shoots back.’ Alright. I’ll leave it alone. Someone’s in the serious tree. I climb up and join her. It’s begun. This is her plan. She’s going to move here in her car, crossing a whole bunch of countries in a 22 hour drive. And she isn’t planning a quick visit either. This is a full on move she’s contemplating as demonstrated by her next message. The government website for applying for a Global Talent Visa. You see, here’s the thing that’s going to underpin so much of what is to follow. And for the first time, on just day two of this new diary, we’re going to have to go full on political. There’s just no avoiding it anymore. In all previous writings I’ve tried, at every turn, to keep things totally out of that sphere. When I’ve absolutely absolutely had to, I’ve dipped the tippiest tip of a little toenail in the freezing cold and stormy waters and then got the hell out of there. But I’m afraid through quite a bit of this we’re gonna have to go full commando, take a deep breath and dive in and swim. I’ll keep us up for air as much as possible. 

The reason? Brexit. Sorry, but it’s out. I’ve said it. If Maja has any aspirations at all to live and work in the UK, and it seems she is suddenly at least considering to have, proper accesses and documentations are going to have to be followed because UK and European citizens no longer enjoy freedom of work and movement between each others’ territories. So if Maja wants to come here and attempt any kind of working relationship with the UK, she’ll have to jump through all the hoops previously associated with going to live in the USA or Australia. The UK is out of the European loop now.

So yes, she’s been looking at how to get a visa and, as far as she can see, the Global Talent thing seems the most likely. I revisit my doubt and say it now. ‘Wow, so your mind’s made up?’ I get the reply in three messages.

‘Pretty much.’ 

‘I dunno.’ 

‘But yeah.’

We have a little delve into it and it very quickly becomes clear this will not be a quick fix. Everything is just so complicated and involved and there are a lot of steps to go through which can take weeks at a time. It looks like she won’t be coming anytime soon afterall. But that’s not how Maja rolls. Dammit, she says. Can’t I just come as a tourist and do this later? You know what? I think that might just work. And as she says right now, she can be here legally as a tourist for six months. During that time we should be able to sort something out if she decides to really look at that. Maja is in no doubt. ‘When I get a job, they’ll fix that for me.’ Let’s get something up front and out there now. Maja will not be coming here to work in the back of a coffee shop, or pour pints next to me in the bar job I most assuredly would be able to get her, at my place or someone else’s. No. Maja’s fish are somewhat bigger. Somewhat huger. Among other things she’s a cloud engineer. Which basically means she designs, maintains and manipulates the infrastructure that makes the internet work. That computer game you’re playing with your buddies who live all over the world? Chances are she developed and then maintained the software that allowed the game to even exist in that format. She’s done similar jobs for governments and corporations across nations in aspects of projects even the managers knew nothing about. To say there might be a bit of a demand on her services here would be to call the goldrush a goldgentlestroll. So yeah. It’s fair to imagine that a prospective employer would gladly throw whole sections of their admin department at securing her services and making sure they stayed secured.

With this, we start looking at it in full earnest, researching how to come here and what the legals are. Oh. We’ve covered Brexit as one political thing, but I’m afraid we have to look at another one now. Coronavirus. You see, I’m not sure if you’re aware of this or not, but we’re in the middle of a pandemic. London is in lockdown and travel restrictions of varying levels are in place all over the world, including a lot of outright travel bans. Once more we delve into the official websites and come up with the little gem that there’s no travel ban for Swedish citizens into the UK, but there is a 10 day quarantine required. And they’re really not messing about with this; failure to comply could actually result in jailtime. ‘Well, if you help me out with groceries I’ll be fine,’ she says. Yep. Done. And a Covid test has to be taken and proved negative before travel. OK. That will be something to have a look at in a little more detail later. So it seems that’s the two biggies out of the way. She’s looking at flights now, as a possible alternative to driving over. It’s way cheaper, she says. OK. It seems she’s just taken a breath to think about all this because she comes back with, ‘I’m just mildly surprised by the reality. My head just spins with all the ifs right now.’ Yep. This is starting to feel pretty real and it’s only midday. It’s less than 12 hours ago that I spoke those four little words. You Could Come Here.

So yes, we’re really doing this. Basic practicalities get discussed now, including the fact that she could soon have a place to call her own in London. And a place that is now going at 20 per cent its pre pandemic price with no deposit is required. However, I’m very keen to stress that it’s part a five person house share, and is a tiny, tiny room. That doesn’t cool the waters one bit. ‘It’s huge to think that I could have a place to call my own,’ she says. ‘Just enormous for me.’ 

Maja then asks about Jenn. Does she know about this as a possibility? Yes, we’ve had that chat and she’s cool with it. And I’ve made sure Elvin, the guy currently in the room, is definitely leaving on the 19th. But I tell her there’s no need to actually aim for that date as I can totally hold the room. I have a great relationship with the landlord and he pretty much lets me organise things around here. With that, she tells me that once he’s left she’ll pay for it even if she’s not arrived yet. She’ll even pay before he leaves, just to be absolutely sure it’s held. She just wants to make sure it doesn’t disappear from under her. ‘Of course it will be held,’ I say. ‘Don’t have this on your worry list.’ And I add that the rent can be paid through me and I can deal with things this end, which means she knows she’s dealing with the de facto decision maker. ‘You’re like a mini landlord,’ she says. Not quite, but I can see how it might look. 

Yes. This is really happening now. I get straight on the phone to the landlord to tell him of the new incoming tenant. He says he’ll make the contract up right away and date it from the 19th. I get back to Maja with this news and I think I make her head spin. ‘It’s really getting sorted now,’ she says. ‘That’s crazy. I haven’t even told anyone about this and suddenly I have a place in London. Amazing.’

Now she goes full on practicalities. What to bring, what not to bring, how and when to tell people. Oh, everything’s spinning everywhere now. And more covid stuff keeps coming; as well as a negative test to be able to get on a plane, she’s now discovered that two tests have to be taken during quarantine. We have no idea how this gets organised or anything, but this is happening now so we put that on the later pile, although it really can’t be too much later. The 19th looks like a date around which this thing will revolve although I expect things to really happen quite a bit after that. But hey, she has a room in London sorted out already and that’s just about the biggest thing in any move anywhere.

I was supposed to have to leave soon for a rehearsal with Sarah, but she just messaged me to see if we can move it to Sunday. No problem. So Maja now asks if I can talk. I can. Five minutes later she’s on the phone. But there’s no excitement in her voice. As much as it might seem, this is no time for excitement. For a start, there are still so many things to organise. But second, it’s too cold to go out where she is so she’s calling me from the apartment while her husband is still there. It’s a whispered conversation while she stays in the bedroom, carefully monitoring the doorknob so that she won’t be caught talking about, well, all the stuff we’re talking about. We’re on the phone for about two hours but as soon as we hang up, my messenger pings again. ‘I’m alone?’ she writes. ‘And it’s dark in the apartment. I knew it was gonna burn soon.’ This is just as we’re coming to 7pm. 

Maja: 

I put the phone down and brace myself to open the bedroom door, mentally preparing myself to handle whatever comes next. What’s going to get thrown at me now? I have no choice but to leave. My puppy Tommy clearly needs to go pee. Trembling, I hold my hand on the handle and slowly push the door. As it opens, I see the apartment is dark. It’s just totally dark. There’s no-one there. I go through to the living room just looking around. Then I open the bathroom and kitchen doors. ‘Hello. Is anyone there?,’ I shout. I even check in the closet. Crazy, I know, but this is a crazy situation. He’s gone. Where the hell did he go? He was supposed to be working. Working at his desk in the living room as he does everyday. It’s minus 10 degrees outside. You don’t go for a walk in that kind of temperature. You just don’t. Not if you don’t have to. And he doesn’t have anywhere to go. What am I supposed to do now? First, I do what needs to be done, which is taking Tommy for a little walk so he can pee. I’m absolutely sure something bad has happened. I don’t know where he is. I don’t know what’s going to happen when he gets back and I have no idea how to prepare myself for that. All I can think of is to call Mark back and tell him about this. I do that while frantically walking in circles around the little stone garden close to my home. ‘Mark. He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone. What am I supposed to do now?’ We talk for a little bit, I calm down and then it comes to me. I’m not really sure how to do it but I realise I need to leave. Now. I go back inside, keeping Mark on the line while I try to find something I can eat this instant. I haven’t had anything to eat today at all. I find some cold cooked rice in the fridge and force myself to eat a couple of spoonfuls. It tastes horrible but that’s irrelevant. It’s food and food equals energy, which is all I need right now. What I’m going to do when he gets back doesn’t matter anymore. I’m not going to be here when he gets back. I say to Mark, ‘I’m leaving for my mum’s now. I can stay there at least until I’m ready to leave for the UK.’ I keep him on the phone while I take a suitcase and just start shoving clothes into it, grabbing whatever I see nearest to me each time I look up. All through this, Tommy is by my side. The suitcase is almost full and I’m just a minute or so away from walking out when I hear the door open. Into the phone, I kind of shout-whisper, ‘I gotta go,’ and hang up. 

In the same second, he comes back home. I cram the suitcase into the closet and force the door shut on it. Then I walk out into the living room and see him walking towards the sofa. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t say a word. Just reaches the sofa where he sits down and turns the TV on. I try to speak to him. Nothing. I ask where he’s been. I ask him a lot of things. I get no answer to any of it. He’s just silent, ignoring me, looking at the TV. Nothing’s on. It’s just the homescreen of Netflix with the movies you can choose. He looks at that, ignoring me, just blindly looking for something to put on. I’m kinda used to being treated like this, completely ignored. So I know that there’s only one way for me to really break the cycle. I need to say it. I need to. I don’t wanna. I’m fearing the words but they need to be said. So I sit down close to him, just in front of him. I pull up a chair so I can sit just in front of him, my face a couple of centimetres away from his. I look into his eyes and say it. I want a divorce. 

We have a long talk about this, and feelings are heated as the full gravity of the situation really starts to hit us. Seeing his remorse, I back down on my demand for a divorce and we settle on the reality that I will be going to London at least for a little while. I can’t handle living like this anymore, and if we’re ever going to get to a place where we can be decent with each other again we need to part ways right now. We talk for hours. When our words finally die out I excuse myself by telling him I have to go out and repark the car. With our severe winter weather, that’s just something we regularly need to do around here so the council can clear the road of snow in the morning. I take the opportunity of being alone again to call Mark to tell him what’s just happened.

Around three hours after we spoke she messages to say that she’s told him she’s leaving. For now at least. ‘Long conversation,’ she says. Now she wants to talk to me. I go out and wander the silent residential streets of Kentish Town, avoiding the busy roads as much as I can. It’s strange, this way of walking and talking late at night on deserted roads. This is lockdown London and no bars are open so no-one is on the streets. We basically cover what we’ve been writing about today in our chats, while she also tells me about what it’s like at home right now. She says she’s being treated kindly enough so it’s manageable, and she feels good now that the news is out. We chat for about an hour and then we’re both close to home so call it for the day. But there’s one more thing. Just after I’ve settled back in at home I get a ping. It’s a screengrab accompanied by the message, ‘This is the flight I’m thinking of.’ Then, in reference to all we’ve been talking about, ‘I can’t believe this is what it had to take to make it feel good again. Goodnight friend. I’m exhausted now.’ That makes two of us.

Now I have a closer look at the details of the possible flight she’s sent me. Damn. It’s this coming Friday.