uk visa result

In June 2023, after seven years of living in the UK, I was waiting for another visa result. It was one of my least favourite parts of living abroad, and it hadn’t got easier. I wanted to stay here, but I also had a non-refundable flight to Canada approaching. My weekly updates went from a fairly calm first week to cold sweats, a stress dream and, finally, a very welcome email.

One missing name at my appointment

A week after submitting the online application, I hadn’t heard anything. I hadn’t expected a result that quickly, so that first update was mostly me confirming that I was still waiting. By the second week I’d been to my biometrics appointment, which managed to be both exciting and terrifying.

I booked it in Stratford in London because it had an earlier appointment available than the option I’d looked at in Kent. I took the high-speed train, then walked about 20 minutes from Stratford International. It was a beautiful day and I’d worn a coat, which I absolutely shouldn’t have done. The appointment was in a library. I sat outside the room without checking in with anyone and worried that nobody would come and get me.

The young woman who handled my appointment was wonderful. She walked me through everything and checked my mandatory documents. I was very conscious that having them verified wasn’t the same as having my visa approved. Then she found a problem: I’d forgotten to put my name on one sheet of paper. My name was on practically everything else, but it needed to be on that document too.

Thankfully, my partner and I had prepared for the possibility that I might need something from home. I’d left my laptop ready and shown him where the documents were. I called and asked him to print the document, add my name, photograph it, transfer the picture to my laptop and upload it to the portal. He did a great job. Then he needed my password.

I normally used my fingerprint to sign into the portal, and at the exact moment I needed to remember the password, my brain refused to cooperate. I was already hot from the walk; now I was breaking out in a cold sweat. I couldn’t think of it. My partner had access to my emails, so he reset the password and uploaded the corrected document. The woman at the appointment could see it. Crisis averted.

They took my photograph, fingerprints and digital signature, and she was able to submit everything. Overall, the appointment had gone fine. I’d had much worse experiences before. That didn’t mean I could stop worrying about the result.

A flight getting closer

I’d normally gone home around late July, but the flights I’d been looking at were expensive. I’d booked for the end of June instead, thinking I’d go after my renewal and spend a couple of weeks in Canada. The tickets were non-refundable. At the appointment I asked whether I could leave while waiting for the result, but the woman couldn’t answer that and gave me a number to call. I still didn’t have the reassurance I wanted.

The waiting continued. By my fourth update, I’d double-checked the dates because I wasn’t sure I’d been giving them correctly: it had been four weeks since the online application and two weeks and a few days since the appointment. The flight was about two and a half weeks away. Every time I thought about it, I broke out in a cold sweat. I even had a vivid stress dream about being at the airport.

I wasn’t making my usual plans. Normally, I’d have booked a car to the airport, talked to Mum about what we’d do and arranged to see friends around their work schedules. I hadn’t done any of that. If I got close enough to the flight without an answer, I planned to ask the airline whether I could get a credit, but I hadn’t reached that point yet.

At five weeks since submitting the application, the flight was less than two weeks away. I told Mum it would be last-minute either way: I’d either not go, or I’d get on the plane with very little time to organise it. I was hopeful, but that hope wasn’t based on any news from the people considering my application. I still had nothing to do except wait.

The email at my front door

On Tuesday 13 June, I’d been out all day and was unlocking the front door when I saw an email appear on my phone. My application had been successful. I was tired, hot and shaking, and I could barely comprehend it. The permission I’d received then ran until 10 January 2026; it wasn’t indefinite.

I celebrated with a Thatcher’s Gold. The email said my residence permit card would follow in the post, and I expected it before my Canada flight. After all those uncertain updates, I could look forward to seeing my family. I felt so good I could have cried. Now I needed to call Mum.

Watch my 2023 visa result and the weeks leading up to it.