Soon I will be changing my address. For most people that is a big deal. The hungry databases of departments, institutions, companies, governmental bodies, and charities all demand to be fed the information of your new whereabouts. And even after you have surrendered that information to everything and everyone, the lesser remnants of your mail are still likely to haunt the new residents for many years after your departure. Not for me, not this time.I lead a shadow life in London. Almost nobody knows I am here. As far as the city of Amsterdam is concerned, Oost is where they still believe I lay my hat. The English government and the city of London are blissfully unaware I walk amongst them. The only ones who know where to find me are the bank and the university. Here I have no subscriptions, no bills, no taxes, no ties. I can disappear quietly into the night.
At the moment a significant part of my life is taking place on this almost etherical level. My new tenancy agreement is written in the pale-hued ink of good faith, at least until the estate agent becomes aware of the changes in the household. My job offer is a mere spoken promise, figuring no figures, dating no dates. All I can do is have faith as I walk into my new life across this bridge built from promises and cemented by trust.
2 comments:
Pas maar op dat de Britse vreemdelingenpolitie niet op dit stukje stuit. Voor je het weet hebben ze je in het Kanaal gekieperd!
Nee, dat is nu juist het mooie: de Engelsen willen helemaal niet weten dat ik hier ben. Dat kan ze niets schelen. Zolang ik maar een EU paspoort heb kan ik gaan en staan waar ik wil en houden ze niets bij. En geen inkomen = geen belasting dus ook dat is geregeld. Het is allemaal keurig legaal.
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