Some rites of 'Integration' ...

I received my first 'brown envelop' from Her Majesty's Revenue.  Yes, the tax man now has his fingers in my hard earned pot of earnings.  Interesting how I don't mind  that quite so much.  Mainly because I see it as a rite of passage.  Part and parcel of being integrated into this  new country of residence.  That aside, they didn't tax me very much anyway having only worked part-time while studying full time.

That's the reason why I came to this country in the first place.  I had plans to pursue yet another postgraduate degree - intrigued to find out whether a P.H.D was indeed for me.  It has always been a sort of fancy of mine ... to attempt a PHd or at least some kind of qualifications that may lead up to embarking on research.  Now that I've completed the research course (shy of a PHd) I discovered I much rather be working and achieving practical things rather than delve into theoretical frameworks and academic exercises of theory building and the the philosophy that supports one's arguments.  Too much thought. Not much do - apart from producing papers that only you and your supervisor (half) understands ...

That aside, I have to admit that being a student here and learning to integrate to make this country one of permanent residence are two different experiences altogether.  In the former, you know for a fact its temporal and energies are focused on doing well and seeing as much of the country as you can in your spare time.  Whilst on the latter track, it's all about efforts to integrate, making new friends and networks, familiarizing oneself with how things are run and the geographical locality of facilities and amenities, learning about the community and what it takes to be part of it ... basically, a whole slew of efforts and issues that you take for granted in your own country of origin until this time.

So! Next on the efforts to integrate list are confirmation classes.  Though BFL and I have both been baptised, we've never really formally been 'confirmed' as church of F believers.  We've attended or at least tried to attend church most Sundays but because we know we were not confirmed we would choose to not participate in communion.  Which is a shame really ... because I have always long to go up but am much too aware that I've not gone through the usual 'rites of passage'.

I suppose we could have simply gone along and taken part.  After all, who's to know?  But that would not be 'doing it properly' - if any one were to ask. So tomorrow morning will be our first class. Down in the country's Rectory.  Where there's geese to be heckled and horses to talk to. :)  Not during the class, that is.  But after - on our usual country walks.  It would also be interesting to find out how young the others are.  I expect we'd be the oldest in our class. Am also hoping we don't get tested on what we've learnt ... after my year of being a student and having sat for yet more exams, I've come to the conclusions that one does reach a point that one could argue that one's much too old for exams.  Who 'writes' for three hours  these days?!  Type perhaps.  But write long hand, pen and paper ...?! To think that was once norm ...