Series 1 (pre-departure Routine For The Tier 2 Immigrant)

It will always involve a phone call or an email or even both. ‘Congratulations, based on your exceptional performance at the interview stage, I am pleased to say that you have been offered the job of a database administrator”. The letter/caller will further inform on the salary being offered (others get mentioned in the formal contract) and start date. You will be told that HR will contact you shortly and that folks is how the journey to the UK as a legal migrant starts.

As usual, you will be confused or shocked or just elated (if a first timer). Those who have earlier worked in the “abroad” will just smile (one of those things).

Well, for the majority of us, we start being circumspect in our actions. We no longer want to go out “anyhow” because the devil and village people can use SARS or “korofo” or anything to “dabaru” our movement, so we just start laying low.

We tell the least number of people – married folks tell their spouses; singles tell their parents and that responsible brother/sister/uncle/aunty (some even tell no one). Considering our religious inclination as Nigerians, some avoid talking to anyone about it until they have made an application and received the visa vignette (entry permit) in their passport.

We start checking our emails every day. We fill out forms from our new employer back to back (no time wasting, so they don’t change their minds), the devil is a liar. When we get issued with our CoS, we start scheming how to raise the application fee. Forget nonsense, that money will usually be raised.

We make the application and voila, the application is successful and there’s a chip on our shoulders. Things in Nigeria no longer appeal to you. That rude boss or colleague seems to be irrelevant to you nowadays. That hard to get girl all of a sudden loses appeal (you start to imagine the abundance and diversity of babes in the UK – thunder fire you there). In your dreams, you are already in the UK.

Nairaland travel section becomes your home (@Justwise, can you please assist with bla bla bla; @UKmigrant, how much did you pay for bla bla bla; @everyone I will be grateful if you can inform me on what and what I can carry as foodstuff on my flight; @ everyone, is palm oil allowed on British Airways etc). Accommodation, foodstuff, clothing, flight etc. become your daily search online. You distribute tasks – parents (foodstuff), church/exposed relation/nairaland (accommodation) etc. You get your flight sorted and on the day of departure you arrive 6 hours before take-off (no chance at all for village people).

Your parents/guardians have been praying. They must have informed their cleric about your trip. Everyone is praying for you to have a safe flight and safe entry into the UK. You must have joined numerous WhatsApp groups – Ah, this abroad, I no go dull myself o. You seek out information about Oyster card (whereas you are to be employed and live in Bradford), you try to know if Nigerian food is cheaper in Peckham (whereas your place of employment/abode is Aberdeen).

You are told that a temporary accommodation has been secured for you (residence, hostel or hotel) – fantastic. You Google the place to see how it looks. You look for fun sites around that locality. Yes, these useless Nigerian banks, let me get a “token” sef and register for email notification and online banking.

You start drawing up a list of things. First, you rummage through LinkedIn to see all those your friends and enemies who are now in the “abroad” (UK, USA, Canada, Australia and selected EU countries) and thought your destiny will end up in Nigeria – “On resumption day, I must update my LinkedIn profile and allow public notification to all my contacts so they know I have arrived”. Second, you draw up a list of those films you couldn’t watch in Nigeria due to “internet issues”. Afterall, internet is now a natural resource so, film don die finish (if only you knew). Third, you draw up a list of the places you would go – Stamford Bridge, Old Trafford, Buckingham Palace, London Bridge, Trafalgar Square, parliament etc. Fourth, you draw up a list of the original food/snacks you would eat – McDonalds (forgetting that the original is in the US), Starbucks, British fish and chips, beer (Lord have mercy). Fifth, you draw up a list of things you would buy (iPhone 11 pro max or S20 Ultra, PS4, original Nike/Adidas/Sketchers/TM, original perfume, Samsung/Apple watch etc.) and lastly, you draw up a spending/saving profile (hahahahahahahaha). I must save like mad (shey £1 = £540 on radiantlife, ah, I must be financially prudent).

Well your Nigerian office may have/haven’t been aware of your departure – weren’t they supposed to have written a reference letter for you (Ah, Nigerians). “They” bid you farewell, and you promise to keep in touch (inside life).

You’ve set your affairs in Nigeria as you know for your mind say you no dey come back (despite say na 3 years your CoS dey last). You have converted all your Naira to £££, it’s in an envelope deep down your travel box. You’ve visited the barber for a last haircut. If you are single and your babe/guy is aware, na constant smooching and supply (you need not ask, it will freely be given).

Folks are now aware of your impending travel and for those who used to view you as that other guy, there would be a change in how they now address you. Forget it, your rep before their eyes has increased more than 1 million folds – you are going to the UK to work as a professional! You won’t be earning Naira anymore. You probably will be banking with the likes of Lloyds, Barclays, HSBC, NatWest etc. They understand what that means and so you become a useful contact to have.

Back to bae, s/he will be worried. “So, what are your plans for me?” “I need you to assure me on our introduction/trad.” You will be like “calm down, I’m not running away (ah, for your mind abi), it’s just me going to prepare ground for you to come over (kai, guys can be wicked). For either the guy or bae, it can be a tough time. “What of if I see someone better?”, “What of if things don’t work out between us and all that?” These thoughts run through one’s mind especially when one has not been committed.

For the married couples, ah that one is simple. Both parties usually apply for everyone at the same time to avoid stories that touch. Well, for those who allow just the main applicant for whatever reason, may the good Lord see you through.

Ah, see me, I almost forgot about family. So, for the majority, there may be some sort of family meeting where people raise expectations. You are reminded that Akin your younger brother is still an undergraduate and will need support. All of a sudden you are now big bros to Akin (from guy or Gbenga to big bros and you say nothing dey being an immigrant). The family also reminds you of Ronke and Ade (your elder siblings) who are graduates but unemployed. Ronke will need your support with starting her small business (catering) while Ade will need assistance from you with going over to the UK to do a masters (no be today African families start to dey craze sha). As if them never kill you finish, you are reminded by the family head that it will not be pleasant to still be living in a rented apartment. They intimate you that the family has decided to complete the bungalow or duplex and that you will play a crucial role in it – nobody asked how much you will be earning (perhaps £30K or £40K gross per annum).

So, brother Tunde jokingly asks how much you will be earning and because brother Tunde works in a bank and travels regularly, you say £40K. Ah, that is 20 Million Naira yearly brother Tunde shouts. He pops out his smart phone and does some calculations – “Gbenga, you will be earning over 1.6 million Naira monthly – that’s more than 3 times what I currently earn”. You forget that you are being set up big time to fail. Of course, people on Nairaland forgot to tell you that your gross salary is absent of Tax, NI contributions and Council Tax (if you don’t do retirement deductions). Don’t worry, nobody will tell you to have multiple sim cards when you reach the UK.

Better don't start what you would not finish? We are tired of half done travel gists.

Yes, we are about done. You have promised to start repatriating money as soon as you arrive. Akin is dreaming of at least 50K Naira (just £100 abi) monthly while Ronke is expecting at least 500K Naira (just £1K na) from you to start her catering business. Your brother Ade is looking forward to joining you for his masters (worth about £17K for 1 year considering that he even got 50% scholarship reduction and lives outside London) in a year’s time while your dad/family head is expecting like 1 million Naira (just £2k) so the family can start with foundation – house will be built on ‘family land’. There are also so many numerous cousins and nephews and aunties and uncles like brother Tunde who will be expecting you to call from time to time and send some lizzy. What about your friends and their little expectations – original Chelsea Jersey, original Adidas, original PS4 and others who won’t mind some “rogering” as life dey hard. You make a mental note and nod in agreement. Your family informs you that God has sent you ahead of the family to make way for others (like Joseph in the Bible). They tell you how your trip abroad has long be prophesised and how you will be great in the UK.

So you are a single guy/lady in the late twenties or early thirties and no one is bothered that you are unmarried and that their interest should be your safe arrival, getting acclimatised to work and environment and building some financial independence so you can get married and then support the family. No, family must come first. This is their time to cash out from you. Well, we would see what becomes of their expectations.

All is set now for your departure and we are back to the airport where you have arrived 6 full hours before take-off (village people and the devil won’t succeed). The family has sent representatives. Their “favoured” son/daughter is about leaving for the UK. They would have come in with the band and singers where it not for airport officials.

So, you have left them and about going through immigrations for the first time through MMIA thinking that at least, you will have some sanity but no, Nigeria must as usual show itself.

So welcome to NIS workers at MMIA.

“Ah Mr/Miss lagbaja, so you are travelling to the UK as a first-time traveller?” Yes, you reply. “That’s ok, we would need to interview you to ascertain that you are a genuine traveller.”

See you in series 2.

Thank you for creating this thread to enlighten us, this is the exact scenario that plays out when one member of a family is going abroad for the first time.

I have questions but let me reserve it, till you're done with the enlightenment.

Series 2 (MMIA airport encounter for the Tier 2 immigrant)

So oga/madam, “what do you do in Nigeria?” (I’m a thief ni), “Oh I used to work with Zenith Bank as a DBA which is the same role I’m going to be doing in the UK (who ask you for this extra).” Ok, so what job will you be doing in the UK?” (selling fufu agbaya), “Oh, like I said earlier, I would be working as a DBA with bla bla bla limited, in Bradford”. “What’s the meaning of DBA?” “Oh, it means database administrator.” Someone who has some idea among them chips in “That’s under ICT, so you are a yahoo boy abi?” Laughs around and then they probe about your address in Nigeria (but madam, I’m not visiting the UK, I’ll be living there), where you’ll be staying in the UK and lastly, but most importantly they ask about “egunge”. “Ah, me I’ve been here since morning and you just dey go UK, abeg find us small thing even if na £5” Well depending on your mood, you could “roger” them something or stand your ground (as na 6 hours before flight you arrive, insurance cover you!)

Yes, that is a typical convo at the NIS check point.

Wait, see me sef, I have forgotten about two important incidents.

First, when you received your offer letter and they offered you £40K as salary, you never complained. Perhaps your monthly pay in Nigeria was 1 million Naira and so, this was some breakthrough. I mean how can you write back to the employer and say, “thanks for your offer but currently, my take home after tax is 1 million Naira (£2K) which £40K translates to after tax and other deductions. Can you please raise the salary to £45K also considering the fact that I have dependents and would want to offer them commensurate living standard. Kindly find attached my most recent payslips and you can check conversion rates on Oanda.com” As we no even wan contemplate anything considering say na nonsense we dey earn for Nigeria (and considering that the devil and village people are still using binoculars to view us), we accept the salary hook, line and sinker. First mistake!

Incident two – baggage check-in. So you have loaded all the “loadables”. Afterall, @UKMigrant told you that you could come in with locust beans, dry fish (kpanla), garri, dried bitterleaf and dried ugu leaf, yam, plantain, palm oil, beans, “semo”, “elubo”, “agbo” and others. You arrive the check-in spot and they weigh your stuffs and it exceeds 46Kg (which is your allotted allowance). Thank God for the contingent that came with you to the airport. You find a convenient spot and start debagging many food and clothing items. After multiple iterations, you arrive at 47Kg and the nice lady at the check-in spot allows you in, you breathe a deep breath of relief – another battle won. Of course, you decide against a stopover flight since you don’t want to get lost in Amsterdam because you couldn’t find your way to your boarding gate (village people and the devil gnash their teeth, they have failed again).

Yes, we have now been cleared from those NIS officials and on to the security screening people. You get screened and pass on to the departure gate. It’s a British Airways flight, so its late-night flight (for early morning arrival). You get there and settle gently into your seat. This is your first time into MMIA and first time in this axis. You try to act calm, collected and cool. Your eyes dart around to examine the other travellers in the departure lounge (let’s call it that for simplification purposes) and you begin to see the variation in travellers.

You observe almost instinctively “the fellow traveller”. This class is very easy to decipher. They are first time travellers like you (going to visit, work, study or join their spouse). They are usually “over-dressed” for the occasion with their bags new and they looked also reserved (actually apprehensive) like you. You move your eyes gently as they settle in on a couple with little kids. You pick up the accent of the kids and it has that British “poshness”, you size the couple – dressed in casuals and lightly packed. They are the frequenters – they are usually citizens/residents who perhaps have come in to visit or conclude a business deal or attend an engagement and are returning back. Don’t worry, you won’t see them again as they will be separated to the “left” as sheep while you with the “others” will naturally go through the “right” as goats to see an immigration officer. You leave them and you settle upon a young lad with gold-plated headphones on his head. He will probably be at most 19 years of age. He is carelessly waving around the latest iPhone and dressed like the typical teenager. That’s the student. He comes from a ‘comfortable” family and is perhaps returning back to uni after a brief visit back home. You will be shocked to discover that his mum must have instigated his visit because she hasn’t seen her first and only son for 3 months (people get money for Nigeria)!

As your eyes stray from the student, they settle on an elderly woman with an oversized duffel bag. Mama/papa will most likely be dressed in our local wear with oversized jacket and stockings (especially if it is winter). Mama will have a scarf on and will be constantly rummaging through her duffel bag bringing out bitter kola and kolanuts. She will have this strict outlook like “kilode”. You will also hear her on the phone telling someone at the other end “a timbo”. This class of oldies can be further grouped into 3. The first group are the returnees – these ones are resident in the UK and have their children abroad. They normally have no business in Nigeria but as they say, “you can take a man out of the village, but you can never take the village out of the man.” Their children have given up trying to dissuade them. Every year, they must return to Nigeria to attend village meetings and settle village issues (of course, village people get updated first-hand about their children during their visits). They wield a lot of influence in the village because they usually hand out gifts every time they come around (usually to placate village people to leave their wards alone) and if your name is not on their New Year’s honour list (apologies to the Queen), oyo is your case. The second group of oldies are those travelling to go and visit their kids. Their kids have now settled abroad and perhaps had a baby. Mama and papa are heading to the UK to do nanny job for a while and also stroll around. You will see them usually smiling, happy and playful with children in the departure lounge. They are fulfilled as their offspring has given them their greatest gift – a grandchild. When they return back to Nigeria, that area go hear am. The third group of oldies you will observe are those going for a child/grandchild graduation. Yes, they too are happy. Most times, they would be in a group all exchanging small talks and greeting other oldies going for similar missions too.

You leave this group and sight the nursing mother. Yes, she is there with an infant child and you realise that even babies have been travelling and you sigh in pity about your life. Considering that you still have some time to fly, you let your mind wander as far back as possible. You remember your secondary school days and all your friends. You think back to specific instances and you smile. Your mind goes back to your JAMB/UTME experience and university life (no offense to poly students) and you sigh. All the struggles of life through university and then the hardships of NYSC. Ah, you remember that course you failed and how you had to do it twice before you passed. You recall that lecturer that vowed that you won’t graduate and how you spent 3 months prostrating for her to have mercy. Finally, you carry your 2-1 and head to “camp” only to spend 1-year teaching Mathematics and Basic Science to JSS/SSS students in a private secondary school in Kogi – inside life. You recall your NYSC days and all your escapades. You remember bae 1 NYSC (during orientation) and bae 2 NYSC (the remaining part of your NYSC). You fast forward to your numerous interviews for job and sleepless nights practicing aptitude tests. You recall with nostalgia your last attempt 5 years ago which landed you your last job and how the salary threw you off balance. Of course, you had the qualifications and certifications. You peruse your journey through the ranks until you became a senior manager all within 5 years.

You think about your life plans and your current bae. You recall all your promises to her which are in contrast to your promises to your family – things will sha sort themselves out you sigh. You travel down memory lane to recall how this journey started. You remember how your promotion at your workplace was because your bosses were all resigning and travelling out. You remember when you had a honest conversation with Etim who informed you that he needed to secure the future of his kids, hence his application for a PR to Canada. Busayo, you recall told you honestly that he was tired of Nigeria and needed to go raise his family abroad hence his seeking out employment in network management in the UK. You recall your current bae encouraging you to take the leap and seek out opportunities. Afterall, you had the requisite qualifications hence your rapid promotion. You remember the day you were sent an email scheduling an interview session for a job you randomly applied to in the UK. Today, that act had culminated into your relocation abroad. That thought and the role your current bae played further solidifies her position in your heart.

You think about your age and aspirations and dreams. You envision yourself 10 years from now, married with 2 kids and a beautiful wife. You dream about your crib in the UK and perhaps your standing in society then – senior partner xyz IT company (UK) LTD and earning over £100K annually. You are about to think about your siblings and their requests when you hear “thank you ladies and gentlemen for your patience. We would soon commence boarding procedures and will like you to form a queue and have with you your boarding passes and passport please.” You slowly open your eyes to see a queue forming and the airline officials trying to organise the pre-boarding checks.

You jump with a start thinking abi e don happen. “Please, is this the queue for the 11pm BA flight to London Heathrow you ask someone nearby.” They respond in the affirmative and you slowly make your way to join the queue. “When I am airborne, I will continue my thinking” you tell yourself. As the queue progresses, you realise that the airline officials have prioritised aged, nursing mothers/parents and first class/business class flyers first. You make a mental note to inquire how much a first class/business class ticket even costs (don’t bother, you never actually do for a long time). However, you note sadly that there is some bit of sanity as the queue progresses. You are happy that the elderly and parents/nursing mothers can be prioritised. This is your first time of seeing this happen and you wonder why this can’t be replicated in Nigeria (you unknowingly think you have left Nigeria).

Well, you have been checked in and sent into the final departure lounge waiting for the airline officials to start calling out flyers based on their class (first, business) or zone. This will be your first time of knowing that your boarding pass has a zone.

It’s taken a while but finally, your zone is called, and you begin your final journey to the airplane preparatory for your flight to the UK.

Yes, please where is my seat?

See you in Series 3

Please make una no ask OP question, I pray this thread passes 100, and no call that moniker with "vet" kus e go scatter everywhere
Any power of Vet in this thread is cancelled by fire!! Lolzz

CC: Hadampson You for join me on this thread, e no bad at all
Call ur people make we laff small

Richdee1:
Please make una no ask OP question, I pray this thread passes 100, and no call that moniker with "vet" kus e go scatter everywhere
Any power of Vet in this thread is cancelled by fire!! Lolzz

CC: Hadampson You for join me on this thread, e no bad at all
Call ur people make we laff small

Thanks for the call bro. I'm here with Danny6552, Subomi007, skylane, Iamboladee, and NiklauseFred

lol been laughing all tru..... and its wierd coz i have not flown b4 but still can relate(dont knw hw... may b movies sha) abeg no stop half way o..... following steady

Hadampson:

Thanks for the call bro. I'm here with Danny6552, Subomi007, skylane, Iamboladee, and NiklauseFred

thabks for the call my main G we self do document our own too

Series 3 (Aeroplane encounter for the Tier 2 immigrant)

Forget YouTube videos, it is always difficult not to be carried away entering an aircraft for the first time. Because this is your first trip abroad and most likely your first time entering a standard long-distance aircraft (not those “kabukabu” flown by Arik or Dana), you get dazzled by the sight that greets you.

Since its MMIA, all you may have recalled was first class and business class flyers including nursing mothers, parents, elderly and disabled being called to board first. Now it is your turn and village people have failed up to this level. You approach the aircraft door and meet smiling ladies (they say they are called air hostesses). Why they are always smiling I can’t understand.

Anyways, you hand them both your passport and your boarding pass and they politely with a smile hand back your passport to you (instinctively, you know that you have “jabor”). They point out the appropriate aisle to you and then you go past them and head down the valley of the commons.

Let me clear 2 things.

First, on the issue of you handing your passport to them, it wasn’t your fault, after all aren’t you a first-time traveller? The innocent smile by the beautiful air hostesses is just a polite way of them saying “it’s okay, we know you are a first-time traveller and there’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Anyways, this incident always reminds me of the story of the king and his slave.

You see, long ago, it was told of a king who went with his slave on a long journey. They had disguised so passers-by didn’t know who they were. As their journey progressed, eventide came and with it a heavy downpour. Despite their attempt to seek shelter under a big tree, they were soaked and few minutes after the downpour, they saw an old man passing by. They approached the man and asked for assistance in lodging them since they couldn’t continue on their journey that night. Of course, during the journey earlier on, the slave had begged the king not to disclose to anyone that he was a slave – afraid of potential consequences or ridicule. The king had obliged him but also noted that he the slave would be the one to divulge his identity through his actions.

Back to the present, they had gotten to their hosts house who turned out to be a wealthy man in that city. He had offered them 2 rooms (1 each) and invited them to dinner when they were dressed. The king changed his clothes and hung the wet clothes to dry on a makeshift elevation in his room. The slave on the other hand had changed his clothes and sneaked into the kitchen to spread his clothes over the fireplace.

Time for dinner and while they were being served, the host’s wife during one of her trips to the kitchen noticed the clothes dripping water over the fireplace. In anger she screamed “who is the slave who hung clothes over the fireplace?” The king turned to the slave and shrugged – I told you that you would divulge your identity by your actions.

Back to the plane, and we are now making our way to our seat. You see others looking into their boarding passes and looking under cabins and you follow suit. As you progress down the valley of the commons, you take note of the first settled flyers. They are in spacious seats, enough leg room and having a bit of a drink. You see hostesses running around asking what they would care for and you mentally assume similar treatment awaits you. You try to look into your boarding pass assuming that your seat lies somewhere around there only to discover that all the seats are occupied so you move along.

As you exit that zone, it hits you almost instinctively because your brain immediately acquires new information and quickly contrasts both scenes and concludes immediately that there is going to be a problem. While you saw calm, cool and collected individuals having a sip from glasses of a bit of some red wine or juice, you are instantly greeted by a sea of heads and chaos as you enter the economy zone.

You must notice that aircraft arrangement is meant to “frustrate” those in economy class. You see, this is even a single cabin aircraft and not the jumbo jets (2 floors). In standard airports, those in the upper floor have their separate passenger boarding bridge. By allowing you to see a taste of what those guys in the first/business class section are enjoying, the airline is instigating in you bitterness which they hope will lead you to make the “right” choice next time.

You immediately realise your foolishness at attempting to find your level among those people and move towards locating your seat. So you get lucky as you identify that underneath the cabins there are numbers and they progress along as you go. The only problem is that your number is an extreme number which begs the question – am I window or aisle? You want to make a bit of progress but catch that nursing mother trying to get settled in her seat and strap her daughter on her (inside life). You see that grandma and grandpa trying to put their duffel bags into the overhead cabins with little success. You realise that you passed that student with the headset in the business class section. You scan your “base” to see if there are hostesses going around and serving some drinks but alas, no one is in sight.

You finally arrive at your row number and begin to ask “jamb” questions. “Sorry, I think this is my seat” (you confront the person sitting in the aisle seat). “No, I don’t think so, as I’m aisle. Perhaps you have it the other way round” the accused quips. You feign ignorance and surprise by looking pretentiously into your boarding pass and respond hypocritically “Oh, my apologies, I’m window. I’m very sorry.” You load your bags overhead and make your way to the window seat. “Ah, ope o you quietly mutter.” This is going to be a nice ride. As you scan through the window, you make a mental note to remember next time that the symbol next to your seat number meant yours was a window seat – after all, you want to avoid future embarrassment.

While you settle in and take in the environment, you see the hostesses moving frantically across the aisles helping people out and also closing cabin doors. You observe that your leg room is small, and you remember the folks you passed earlier on and how much leg room they had. You sigh and remind yourself to check out the cost of a first/business class ticket when you arrive the UK. You see that there is an entertainment box in front of you and notice that the folk at the extreme is fixing his seat belt. You observe and replicate his action successfully – first aircraft victory.

As you carefully scan the economy class, you try to distinguish between the economy class section and “Oyingbo” market considering the noise and exchange of pleasantries of – “ba wo ni”, “shey dada”, “Alafia” etc. You overhear loud phone conversations as people elatedly tell those behind that they have now boarded. You remember your contingents and whip out your phone. You call your bae and give her the good news. She is almost in tears, but you promise her that everything will be alright and that you will not break her heart. You actually mean it and promise to call her when you land in the UK. Next, you inform your family head (who you know will help disseminate the information to the community) and then that your trusted friend. You scroll through your contacts with nostalgia and reminisce about life briefly.

You get jolted by a feminine voice. “Excuse me, I think that’s my seat.” You raise your head to see a delectable lady with proper curves making her way to the middle seat besides you. Damn, who say’s miracle doesn’t exist. Your conscience tells you to remember bae, you deaden that voice and offer a very broad smile. At least, I will have the right company for the next 6 hrs (village people smile. At least they are going somewhere).

As you adjust yourself, you quickly assess your new companion and realise from her phone conversations that she is a regular. You become more careful as you must not fall your hand. You hear her talking about spending 2 weeks and returning back to Nigeria and what she will be doing and you quickly do some calculations. You conclude that worst-case scenario, your case isn’t that bad.

There is now some relative calm within the plane as everyone is seated and buckled. The air hostesses are doing final rounds and the pilot is talking over the speakers. You look out of your window into vast darkness and sigh – when will this country called Nigeria get it right. You feel chilly but grateful for the extra jacket and stockings you have on. You say a silent prayer for safe flight as the aircraft taxis to the runway.

While you may have a “fantastic companion”, you soon realise that you feel tired. The toll of you being at the airport 6 hours before your departure begins to take its toll on you. You are apprehensive about everything. This is a new adventure for you. You will be alone – no parent or helper or support, just you alone (and God you surmise). You try to recall your packing to ensure that every document was packed. Of course, you have your certificates in your carry-on bag as well as your decision letter from the Home Office informing you of the successful application and where you would be picking up your biometric residence permit (BRP).

You try to recall how you would leave from the airport (Heathrow) to Bradford, Considering that you won’t be picked up from the airport by anyone, Nairalanders have graciously informed you that at the Central Bus Station, ask the cashiers that you want to buy a National Express ticket to Bradford. Of course, you have everything well documented.

You try to recall how you would leave from the airport (Heathrow) to Bradford, Considering that you won’t be picked up from the airport by anyone, Nairalanders have graciously informed you that at the Central Bus Station, ask the cashiers that you want to buy a National Express ticket to Bradford. Of course, you have everything well documented.

You remember that someone on Nairaland talked about Lebara/Lycamobile and you make mental note to investigate that further when you arrive. Your stomach bites and you recall that you haven’t had a meal in 6 hours. The bite is more painful when you recall people in the first/business class section being given pre-flight nibbles. You shake your head and silently curse poverty (as you remind yourself to investigate the cost of a first/business class ticket when you arrive).

You take a careful glance towards your “companion” and smile. As you think about her, thoughts about your bae flash your mind. You remember her and smile. You hear the plane engines roaring and the plane running along the runway. As the plane takes into the skies, you silently drift into slumber. Afterall, you cannot come, and go and kill yourself.

“Hi, are you having dinner?”

See you in series 4

Hadampson:

Thanks for the call bro. I'm here with Danny6552, Subomi007, skylane, Iamboladee, and NiklauseFred

Haaa! Baba how you take jam this thread!?
Make sense
Thanks Mann

Come and continue o

amazing keep it coming

Post small pictures na

UKLifeIssues:
You try to recall how you would leave from the airport (Heathrow) to Bradford, Considering that you won’t be picked up from the airport by anyone, Nairalanders have graciously informed you that at the Central Bus Station, ask the cashiers that you want to buy a National Express ticket to Bradford. Of course, you have everything well documented.

You remember that someone on Nairaland talked about Lebara/Lycamobile and you make mental note to investigate that further when you arrive. Your stomach bites and you recall that you haven’t had a meal in 6 hours. The bite is more painful when you recall people in the first/business class section being given pre-flight nibbles. You shake your head and silently curse poverty (as you remind yourself to investigate the cost of a first/business class ticket when you arrive).

You take a careful glance towards your “companion” and smile. As you think about her, thoughts about your bae flash your mind. You remember her and smile. You hear the plane engines roaring and the plane running along the runway. As the plane takes into the skies, you silently drift into slumber. Afterall, you cannot come, and go and kill yourself.

“Hi, are you having dinner?”

See you in series 4

Mann you doin' a good job.Been smiling all through

UKLifeIssues:
While you settle in and take in the environment, you see the hostesses moving frantically across the aisles helping people out and also closing cabin doors. You observe that your leg room is small, and you remember the folks you passed earlier on and how much leg room they had. You sigh and remind yourself to check out the cost of a first/business class ticket when you arrive the UK. You see that there is an entertainment box in front of you and notice that the folk at the extreme is fixing his seat belt. You observe and replicate his action successfully – first aircraft victory.

As you carefully scan the economy class, you try to distinguish between the economy class section and “Oyingbo” market considering the noise and exchange of pleasantries of – “ba wo ni”, “shey dada”, “Alafia” etc. You overhear loud phone conversations as people elatedly tell those behind that they have now boarded. You remember your contingents and whip out your phone. You call your bae and give her the good news. She is almost in tears, but you promise her that everything will be alright and that you will not break her heart. You actually mean it and promise to call her when you land in the UK. Next, you inform your family head (who you know will help disseminate the information to the community) and then that your trusted friend. You scroll through your contacts with nostalgia and reminisce about life briefly.

I can totally relate to all this as a first time international traveller to the UK