A change of direction

Greetings, folks.

This blog began as a space to reflect on what it was to be living between multiple countries. At a certain point, this stopped being something I consciously reflected on. 'Living abroad' or 'living between' stopped being novel. It became my life. I got on with things. With the things I'm passionate about, like making performances, directing plays, starting festivals, travelling, developing artists and consuming significant quantities of coffee.

Now, in the wake of the UK's EU Referendum, the life I've been getting on with feels under threat. I don't, currently, have a valid UK visa, which means I'm effectively being held hostage in the country where I've lived (and worked, and paid taxes) under EU law since 2011. I tried talking to The Guardian about it. They don't care. I tried applying for expedition of my permanent residency application. That's been met with silence. Then, yesterday, she who shall not be named has just sent a very unfortunate letter to Donald Tusk. In this context, it strikes me that NOW might be a good time to revisit this blog. As a space to receive dispatches from my protracted encounter with the British immigration system, to vent frustrations and - perhaps - as a space to generate conversation that promotes empathy and action.

So that's what I'll be doing here. Expect shared correspondence, politics, culture. frequent ranting and the occasional dance.