I checked out of the apartment this afternoon, early enough to try to catch the evening light light around town before locking things up.
Cambridge was wonderful and transformative – it will always be a touchstone.
Wrapping things up in Barrington
Everything is just about packed and out now. The truck came yesterday morning to pick up the larger pieces; I took a carload of smaller things to work for temporary storage before redistributing them in a few days.
Frustratingly, I had some vandalism in the back yard while I was at work yesterday. Nothing major and the house wasn’t broken into, but it may have been a reaction to the truck’s departure.
I talked with my landlord and there isn’t much to do: the neighbors are not apologizing and still have keys that they took. She suggests that I just pack and go, likely a day earlier than I’d hoped.
I just want to leave without incident, but it’s becoming harder.
A friend and I were reflecting over a beer about how we choose a place to live. It’s aspirational: we want a better life, proximity to family, friends, and opportunities, someplace that we think we’ll fit into and build a new life.
There’s always a leap of faith in moving someplace unfamiliar. I trust that the house is sound, the setting peaceful, the neighbors congenial with values and outlooks that I share. And the first year is a test, reaching out, making social connections, finding friends, exchanging favors. Eventually, I do feel like part of the community, recognizing folks and joining events. And most everyone was very welcoming and inclusive.
Village life had a lot to offer, and I’m happy to have had the experience. Most people had deep roots and a lot of pride in the homes and relationships along the Green. I’ll miss the sports matches, the social gatherings, the lazy twilights talking and laughing over a good meal or a drink in the yard.
I’d hoped for more of the Cambridge experience in living here, but 10 km is a surprisingly big distance. I can chase up people and academic lectures, join Formal Halls and festivals, attend theater performances, Chase evenings, and Chemistry Department Christmas tastings (all wonderful). But I’ve learned that I’m not really a part of the University unless I’m in the University.
Still, I leave with good memories of the years spent here.
So, I made a celebratory dinner and toasted the life I’m leaving tomorrow.
Then, onward as ever with the 13 boxes that make up an expat’s ‘home’ and and optimism for the future.
Visiting the Notary
The London attorney sighed, slowly rotating the thick stack of papers a quarter-turn at a time, tapping the edges on the table to align them, then repeating.
In the United States, *tap*, a Notary would just sign and stamp the signature page. *tap* But that simply isn’t how things are done here in England *tap*. Perhaps you could come back tomorrow when you’re more ready?
I took the proffered business card and smiled before departing. ‘just another day in Paradise….
We are filing legal documents in the United States, requiring a notarized signatures on each signature page. I’ve been through US (an embossed stamp: easy) and Dutch (tricolor yarn and wax: formal) procedures, but this was the first run at the UK. I took the advice given and printed a full set of finalized documents before contacting a local Notary Public in Cambridge.. This time, much smoother.
So, while the process is a bit complicated, it’s workable with preparation and patience:
1) Print everything. Twice.
In the US, only a signature page is required. Here, the primary and supporting documents must all be printed (100 pages in my case) and a second copy printed for the Notary.
2) Bring ID. Twice.
Bring a passport, driver’s license, and visa card for proof off identity. For proof of residency, I needed to additionally provide a utility or phone bill, something with my name and address on it, for the Register.
3) Bring cash.
‘about 75 gbp.
4) Enjoy the show.
The documents are examined and checked to make sure that everything is present. Holes are punched and a ribbon is threaded through the spines to bind the documents. There was choice of colour, I picked Royal Blue.
There was a formal signing, and then an oath for the affidavit. I was handed a bible for my right hand, instructed to point at my signature with my left, and solemnly swear before Almighty God that I was indeed, David Hampton, that everything in the documents was true, and that the signature affixed to the document was well and truly mine.
The Notary then signs everything in flowery cursive with a fountain pen, blots the excess ink, and affixes a seal to the two loose ends of the ribbon (Wax is so messy, he commented, applying a press-on seal).
5) Sign the waivers
A supplemental document is reviewed and signed stating that I was not given legal advice or translation services, and a number to call if I had any complaints. I accepted the terms and shook hands.
And off I went to scan, send, and join the submission. Everything will go in on Tuesday.
‘couldn’t be simpler.