The lil' scribbler arrives

Six days late. Less than three hours of labor. A pound lighter than his older brother.

Finally, the new lil' scribbler has arrived! He made his grand entrance ten days ago, on Mother's Day (traditionally called Mothering Sunday here) in the United Kingdom. And, thank goodness, he came without all the medical drama his big brother made us endure.

Frankly, the lil' scribbler's entrance was . . . not to put too fine a point on it . . . boring.

Recovery from any British birth requires a proper cup of tea.

Wonderfully boring!

The whole labor and delivery thing was a breeze. {Ed.'s note: Easy for you to say. Try giving birth.} Kate's first contractions started around 1:30 in the morning. Her body decided to skip the introductory contractions. Instead, she dove straight into the full-on powerful ones. We waited an hour or so and then headed off to the hospital.

The maternity ward was packed. Who knew 2:45 am on a Sunday was such a popular time to deliver? In truth, the maternity ward was simply so understaffed that they couldn't even operate an entire wing of the ward. Understaffing is one of the National Health Service's not-so-secret methods of cost controls. Anywho, during our drive to the hospital they called and sought to redirect us to another hospital across town. But we missed the call — the phone was tucked away into Kate's bag — and we showed up at the hospital to crash the party.

Sleeping while momma takes a shower.

They made room for us, grudgingly.

We didn't take up much of their time. Our new baby boy, Finley, was born roughly an hour and a half later. Nor did we take up much of their resources. Unlike in the U.S., where most births are overseen by obstetricians, most births in the U.K. are overseen by midwives. Our midwife managed everything on her own. If there had been any complications, further medical staff was around. But generally the approach to birth here is less "medical" and more "natural," though circumstances or personal preferences can of course dictate otherwise.

Jackson met his new little brother, Finley, for the first time.

Kate's mom ("Grammar") holding Finley in the hospital.

In general, if it's a mother's second (or third, fourth, etc.) baby, they aim to send momma and baby home from the hospital within six to twelve hours. This has shocked some of our U.S. friends, who spent a day or two in the hospital after giving birth. But so long as both the mother and baby are doing well, and the baby is nursing successfully, they urge you to go home.

Ready to go home.

But going home doesn't mean you're suddenly on your own. A midwife comes to your home the next day to check on the baby and mother. If all is well, another midwife visit is scheduled for two days later. After two or three further days, you see a midwife again when the baby gets a poke for routine blood screenings. Several days later, you have another evaluation to make sure all is well and the baby is growing as expected. At that point, your medical supervision is handed over from midwives to a "health visitor," who makes periodic visits to babies and toddlers and follows their development. The usual vaccinations and other routine medical checkups are passed over to a general practitioner (GP), your family doctor.

Born early in the morning and home in time for dinner. We let Jackson, his devoted big brother, pick the clothes we bought for Finley to come home from the hospital.

I've been asked several times whether Finley, having been born in England, is a British citizen. He is not. Like the vast majority of countries in the world — including all of Europe and nearly all of Asia, Africa, and Oceania — the U.K. grants citizenship on a jus sanguinis basis (i.e., by "right of blood"). That means one parent must be a British citizen, or at least that immigrants like us need to be "settled" and have permanent residence status. However, if or when Kate and I gain U.K. citizenship in a few years, our children can also gain citizenship at the same time. Additionally, if Finley continues to live in the U.K. until he's ten years old, he becomes eligible for citizenship regardless of the citizenship status of his parents.

So, if the lil' scribbler isn't a British citizen, is he an American? Yes. In the U.S., like much of the Americas, citizenship is granted automatically on a jus soli basis (i.e., by "right of soil"), so anyone born within American territory is granted citizenship. Finley doesn't qualify on that basis. But generally speaking, the U.S. also grants citizenship to children born to U.S. citizens living abroad, as long as a few minor conditions are met. Finley (and his parents) check those boxes.

Expat lessons from our return trip home

How could this holiday recap be any more timely?

Perhaps if it were written weeks ago. Nevertheless, I'll soldier on. Besides, you were bored by waded through all those other people's holiday stories a fortnight ago. This recap will seem fresh and new.

{Ed.'s note: Lame justifications, aisle one.}

The Christmas fair at George Square in Glasgow, with the City Chambers as backdrop.

Why is this recap so damn late?

Well, it was a vacation, after all. I've been slow to get back into the blogging groove. Photos needed uploading and editing. And then my iPhoto crashed (not the first time); got somewhat restored; and now taunts me with a hideous gobbledygook of disorganization. Tens of thousands of photos were jumbled and albums were lost. To top it off, our internet connection has been periodically AWOL (not the first time).

{Ed.'s note: [Yawn.] Lame excuses, aisle two.}

Lesson 1: Working in Europe provides oodles of vacation days.

Counting travel time, our trip back to the States lasted 24 days. Of those 24, eight were weekend days, four were public holidays, and three were employer-provided days off. Kate thus took off nine days of work.

In the U.S., taking nine vacation days would eat up most of a worker's yearly allotment. Unlike most of the world, the U.S. has no federally-mandated minimum number of vacation days. Nor does the U.S. have any federally-mandated public holidays (i.e., days off work), though most employers give employees days off for holidays or a compensatory day if the employee works on a holiday. On average, most U.S. employers choose to provide between 10 and 15 days per year, with perhaps additional days for long-term employees.

In the E.U., by contrast, all member states must provide full-time workers with at least 20 paid vacation days per year. Many European countries provide more time. The U.K. requires that workers receive a minimum of 28 vacation days, plus eight public holidays (nine in Scotland). Kate's employer, a university, provides an additional three days during the week between Christmas and New Year's Day.

Christmas in North Carolina.

So when Kate took off nine days in December to travel back to the U.S., it didn't decimate her vacation time for the year. She still had 19 days earlier in the year for vacation. As it was, she didn't even use all of her vacation and carried over a few days into this year.

The lack of vacation time in the U.S. is a significant disincentive for us to someday abandon expat life and live again in the States. Give up two or three weeks of vacation time per year? That's cutting vacation time in half. It's not a necessarily a dealbreaker, though with a few more years under this system it might become one.

Lesson 2: We miss people a lot more than we miss places.

On our return trip home, the first stop was a long-awaited weekend visit to see friends in New York. Two friends (and their wee one, Molly) live in Scarsdale, outside New York City. They hosted us and two of our other friends (and their wee one, William) who live in Boston. Our happy nontet hung out all weekend in and around the house. We were joined for a quick evening visit by two other friends (and wee one, Sam) who live in NYC, and a third friend who was back from London visiting family in New York.

Boneheadedly Strangely, I didn't take a single photo the entire weekend. Here, Trish reads to Jackson and her wee one, William.

The other wee one, Molly. These two photos are courtesy of William's dad.

Before the trip, we had pondered making a foray into the City to show Jackson a few touristy things, such as the Statue of Liberty. We realized, however, that an expedition downtown with three toddlers would inevitably cut into our quality visiting time. Traveling in multiple cars, herding and placating the little ones, keeping everyone warm and fed — we would be busy, but in a way that detracted instead of enhanced our time with everyone.

Is Kristen pregnant, or did she just eat a really big dinner?

After eighteen months away — and even longer since we had seen all of these folks — the weekend was just what we were craving during our expat lives: pure visiting time with people we missed. Expat life leaves you bereft of family and friends for long stretches. Your social circle is radically altered. You find yourself missing old colleagues and bosses; neighbors and their pets; former professors and mentors; even check-out clerks and baristas.

Phone calls, emails, texts, blogs {Ed.'s note: Nice subtle plug.}, Facebook, Skype, and Facetime are fabulous tools to stay connected. But none of them can truly substitute for a face-to-face conversation. Nothing beats being in the same room, around the same table, sharing a meal or a beer.

You can't hug an email.

Jackson hugs Grampa Bill.

Nana and Jackson explore at Marbles Kids Museum.

As for the locations and places we've left behind . . . no big whoop. It was nice to peek into my old office at work. I enjoyed the familiarity of driving around Raleigh, a city I know well, and had fun spotting little changes that had sprung up over eighteen months. Perhaps if I had a Scarlett O'Hara-ish attachment to a house or property, I'd feel some pangs of longing. Maybe if we had lived in a truly distinctive city, like New Orleans, with its own culture and vibe and history and music, I'd be aching for the place. Would I have been thrilled to go to another Durham Bulls baseball game or a Duke basketball game? Of course. Missing those teams, however, isn't the true draw.

Posing with our friends Kristen and Stephen (and rear-facing Nicholas). Too many snapping cameras meant too many places to look.

For us, the ties to America are about relationships, not municipalities. About family and friends, not restaurants and sports teams. About people, not places.

Lesson 3: You won't have time to see everyone.

In New York, there were many more old friends whom we could have tried to see that weekend, but the logistics of trying to see even more people over that short time would have devalued the time we spent with the friends we did see.

1912 dance card courtesy of Wikipedia.

The second stop on our trip was in North Carolina, where we lived for roughly eleven years before moving to Scotland. Even with eight full days and two partial days, there were too many people to see with too little time. Our dance card overflowed. It still eats at me that we only saw about half of the folks we wanted to visit.

It wasn't a matter of setting tiers or hierarchies of folks we wanted to see. For some things, it was a question of our own professional commitments, such as finding the most convenient times to see our old coworkers, or my need to complete two full days of continuing legal education credits. In other cases, folks were away on their own vacations. At some points, the simple distance across multiple towns and counties proved too daunting to make time in already-packed days, much less worrying about meal times and nap times.

As it was, we flitted here and there for lunches and dinners and playdates. In the final analysis, we needed to (try to) leave enough time for the most important visit: family time with Nana and Grampa Bill. Seeing our families was, naturally, the main impetus for the trip.

We made a valiant effort, but we couldn't fit it all in. Not even close. It's one of the consequences of having moved far away and then returning for a visit. You know you can't do everything or see everyone. Circumstance and happenstance play a large role in how things play out. In the end, you can only sigh and resolve to see all the others on the next trip back.

Lesson 4: Readjusting to the homeland is not a challenge.

I suppose if we were gone a very long time and living in a significantly different culture amidst an unfamiliar language, then readjusting to the States on a return home would be a shock. Over time, both you and your home country change, usually in incremental accretions which only gradually lead to significant divergences. Eventually, possibly, you could encounter some genuine culture shock returning home.

Let's face it, though. That ain't likely. Particularly in the interconnected world we live in; with global news and dozens of ways of staying in touch; with converging norms and social mores; with shared movies, television, music, sports, literature, fashion, internet memes, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, YouTube, and on and on; with all that, you'd have to work hard at isolating yourself to not know about life in your home country.

A classic North Carolina delicacy.

We were gone eighteen months and living in a U.K. culture quite similar to America's. We came back to pretty much the same place we left. For sure, some of our old synapses were suddenly refiring. Ugly strip malls. Congestion. Fast food joints at every turn. Same music styles, same clothes, same left-wing and right-wing news channels, etc. Even if a decade (or two? or three?) had passed before we returned, there would be a heckuva lot more that had stayed the same than had changed.

It took only a few minutes to get used to driving on the right side of the road instead of the left. We had some food cravings to satisfy, but once those itches were scratched they largely faded from our consciousness. I enjoyed being able to watch college football bowl games with people who actually care about the sport. The supermarkets and Super Targets stocked all the same products as ever.

Christmas lights, music, trees, television specials = the same as always. We celebrated New Year's Eve in Colorado pretty much the same way 'Muricans have been for decades, with drinks and dance music and counting down the televised ball drop in Times Square.

Kate with her sister Tracy and our niece, Macie. Kate is a selfie master.

Tracy's husband, John, and I recline on the couch.

Happy New Year! Kate's other sister, Rachel; her husband, David; and John all photobomb our lovely selfie.

"Readjust" is much too strong a word. It's more like sliding into an old pair of slippers, comfy and reassuring.

Lesson 5: Gas is much cheaper in the U.S. than in Europe.

Wowzers.

Not a newsflash, I know. But still.

The current cost of petrol (i.e., gasoline) in Glasgow averages to about £1.07 per liter. Roughly 3.8 liters equals a gallon, so a gallon of petrol here costs approximately £4.07. At today's exchange rate, a British pound equals $1.50.

December gas price in Colorado.

Thus, a gallon of gasoline in Glasgow currently costs $6.11.

Compare that to the average U.S. cost of gasoline. In the majority of states, gas costs $2.00 or less. In the lower 48 states, the highest cost is in California, at $2.46. For the further-flung states, Alaska averages $2.69 and Hawaii averages $3.27.

On our trip back, we bought gas in Colorado for $1.91. Brought a smile to my face.

Most of the time — except for our long road trips — the cost of petrol here in Scotland is easier to accept because we use so much less than we did in the States. We're down from two cars to one. Kate walks to work and I don't need to commute. We can walk to shops and restaurants more easily. I'd guess our gasoline consumption has dropped by nearly two thirds.

Thank goodness.

Lesson 6: Red-eye flights with a toddler are a crapshoot.

Our three year old is a champion traveler. He's flown dozens of times. We work hard during flights to keep him well-fed and happily occupied.

A red-eye flight, though, is pushing it. Our flight back to Scotland from Colorado started at 4:30 pm and took 7-8 hours to fly to Reykjavik, Iceland. We had an hour and a half layover, and then a two hour flight to Glasgow. When we arrived in Glasgow, to our bodies it felt like 3:30 in the morning. Moreover, few people on the first flight were tired enough to fall asleep. Couple that with drink and food service, trash collections, and back-of-the-seat video screens, there was more than enough activity to keep a toddler awake.

Are you sensing where this story is going? We were headed toward something that looked like this:

Our niece, Rosalie, had a momentary meltdown on Christmas. (It's not fair to use this photo, since she's generally so happy.)

First, Jackson didn't want to even consider the idea of sleeping on the flight. Eventually we coerced cajoled him into lying down, but then he'd pop back up again. Then he was fidgety. Then he was genuinely tired, but couldn't get comfortable. We were getting exasperated, which didn't help matters. Then he started whining and pouting, kicking out in frustration. His whining went on and on, growing more desperate. He couldn't control himself any longer. Epic meltdown in three, two, . . .

And then he fell asleep. Not for long; only about an hour and a half. The crisis, however, had passed.

In our game of craps, we somehow rolled a seven.

This was all luck, and perhaps a bit of biological need for sleep. It was not, let me emphasize, a parenting win. We were powerless. He was the geyser about to burst, the earthquake ready for destruction.

The red-eye flights were hard for us adults to handle gracefully. For a toddler, it was a 50-50 proposition to remain calm, at best. Make that 80-20. Or 90-10. Whatever the odds, we pushed them and somehow squeaked by.

My advice: don't roll the dice this way. Find a better flight time. We will, next time.

Lesson 7: Bring additional bags or buy more luggage, but whatever you do, don't mail your stuff back.

You'll feel awkward and embarrassed and foolish to roll up to the airport counter with all that luggage. You likely will need a cart. On our flight back this time, we used two carts to waddle up to the ticket desk. Jackson perched atop one cart, the sultan on his sedan chair. Your suave expat aura is kinda blown when you're wheezing and cursing how much crap that kid got at Christmas.

Some will sneer at you, holding their single carry-on bag. But you'll do it anyway. All those bags — even if it costs you an extra-bag fee — is much, much, MUCH cheaper than mailing stuff back.

{Ed.'s note: / Because you know I'm all about those bags / 'Bout those bags / No mailing / }

Exhausted boy after his red-eye flights awaits yet more luggage. Still to be collected were another suitcase and another large box.

No matter what, don't mail things back. The mailing costs are high, especially if you want to track your stuff or see it within a month's time. How much do you really want those books, or jeans, or pepper jelly? It'll likely cost hundreds of dollars to ship back some Christmas presents.

And then you'll pay again when you receive it.

Say what?

I speak the truth. For example, the U.K., like many countries, taxes you heavily for anything you bought overseas and send back. They sock you with VAT taxes, customs taxes, excise taxes. They even tack on a "handling fee" for opening up your packages, rifling through them, and then waiting for you to pay their extortion fees before giving you your lawfully bought items.

But you're taxed on more than just what you bought yourself. Last year, we paid $280 to receive gifts that other people sent us for Christmas. That's right, we paid hundreds of dollars for the privilege of receiving gifts from people who had already spent hundreds of dollars mailing them to us.

How much did we pay to lug things back on the airplane?

Nothing. On most international flights, each traveler is entitled to two checked bags for free. We traveled to the States with three large suitcases and a car seat. We came back with four large suitcases (we had packed one bag inside the other on the way to the States), as well as two boxes and the car seat. In addition, each traveler on international flights is typically allowed a carry-on bag and a "personal item" (i.e., a smaller bag, like a purse or camera case). So we had a total of five carry-ons and personal items. All told, we brought back ten bags, two boxes, a car seat, and a limp toddler. Free.

Heavy luggage  vs.  mailing costs, taxes, and fees.

No contest.

Lesson 8: When you live overseas, you might see some family members more than when you lived back home.

During our time in North Carolina, my parents lived close by and we saw them often. They've visited us in Scotland multiple times already, and we hope they'll have some lengthy stays this year. But moving overseas has necessarily meant less frequent visits.

Fewer visits, but at least I can lure Nana and Grampa Bill to places like Paris.

By contrast, Kate's family lives out west, in Colorado and Idaho. When we lived in North Carolina, we didn't see them all that often, sometimes not even once a year. Remember our Lesson 1, above, regarding the lack of vacation time in the U.S.?

Now that we're in Scotland, we've seen them more. Much more. Both of Kate's sisters and their families have come to visit for two or three weeks at a time. The next trip is scheduled for this coming summer. Their mother, whom we call Grammar, stayed with us in Glasgow for a couple of months, and we expect more long visits in the coming months.

Two summers ago, aboard Her Royal Majesty's Yacht Brittania with Kate's sister, Tracy; her husband John; their kids Garrick and Macie; and Grammar.

Last summer with Kate's sister, Rachel, and her husband, David, at the Clava Cairns prehistoric site in northeastern Scotland.

So living overseas helps draw folks to you for longer visits. An interesting place to visit? Cheap and easy proximity to a continent of exciting tourist opportunities? Free lodging on their trip? Yessir!

Family sledding.

Expat life also helps you prioritize time with distant loved ones, maximizing the chances you get. Our trip home a few weeks ago allowed us ten full days, and parts of two other days, in Colorado. That's longer than any of our previous holiday trips.

Counting their upcoming trip to visit us next summer, we'll have seen Kate's sisters and their families for at least four weeks, and as much as seven or eight weeks, over the course of two years. That's far more than the one, or at best two, weeks we likely would have seen them if we hadn't moved overseas.

Tectonic shifts at a dinosaur museum.

Racing back to the car from the playground.

We moved across an ocean, but doubled or tripled our time spent with them. Chew on that.

Our first trip back to America

It's been 18 months since we arrived in Scotland, and we're headed back home for the first time.

I still call the U.S. of A. "home." Not that I don't feel at home in Scotland. We just haven't been here long enough for it to feel officially "home" yet.

In total we'll be back in the States for 23 full days and two part/half days. It's the first trip we'll have taken in a loooooonnnggg time that I'm not busily preparing with guide books and Internet research. I'm not quite sure what to do with myself.

We're not traveling lightly. At all. We've got clothes for the relative warmth of the south, and clothes for snow and skiing in Colorado. Various bags are stuffed with toddler activities and books and toys to keep the wee one quiet occupied. And even after ordering most of our Christmas gifts via Amazon to cut down on our baggage, we have numerous presents stashed in our gigantic bags for friends and family. Oh, and the kid's car seat. Damn kid.

My new U.S.A. passport book.

What's more, we'll probably return with more baggage than we're bringing. My suitcase is stuffed inside another suitcase — an REI Wheely Beast duffel bag — which we'll likely fill with the kid's Christmas loot presents. We've even planned ahead enough that we have bought some items (e.g., toy trains and accessories) that are much cheaper in the States, which we're lugging back to the U.K. for the kid's birthday next June. It's a good thing our international flights allow us two checked bags each, plus carry-on bags.

I'm a little worried we'll exceed the limits. Eeek.

In the States, our dance card is filling up quickly. We've got bunches of people to see — friends, colleagues, family, even a favorite coffee shop barista. Trivia night at the pub. Continuing legal education (sigh). Dinners out. Professional consultations. Food trucks to visit. Parties. Not one but two Christmases to celebrate with family(ies). Skiing and sledding and Jackson's first real chance to play in the snow.

Blogging in these parts is going to continue during our trip, but likely in a reduced manner. Still, I know how much you depend on these posts. Wait for them anxiously. Feel bereft without them.

{Ed.'s note: Well, maybe your mother. The rest of us will enjoy a respite.}

In the new year, I'll be sprucing up the blog. I aim to lay some of the groundwork during these next few weeks, but it'll be behind the scenes. Nothing dramatic, just a few touches.

For now, it's time to head across the pond. First stop, the city.

New York City.

(Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.)

The U.K. is poorer than each of the 50 U.S. states

Read the title of this post again, and let it sink in.

One more time.

If you're like me, you initially may not believe it. Surely, the data must be manipulated, the numbers exaggerated, the conclusions faulty.

But it's accurate. The numbers are widely available, the methodology is mainstream.

Take the Gross Domestic Product (GDP) of each U.S. state. Divide each state's GDP by its population. That renders a GDP per capita (i.e., per person). Now compare each state's GDP per capita to the U.K.'s GDP per capita. That is the approach taken by Fraser Nelson in a recent column for The Telegraph, a conservative-leaning newspaper in the U.K. Nelson is the editor of The Spectator, a conservative British magazine, and he expanded on his column in a follow-up blog post there.

By Nelson's unremarkable measurement -- which of course rendered some remarkable gnashing of teeth on Twitter and other media -- the U.K. would rank ahead of only one state, Mississippi.

If you take Nelson's methodology and refine it a bit further, the U.K. falls behind Mississippi. That's because when you adjust the numbers for purchasing power parity (PPP) -- which adjusts for differences among the value of currencies, somewhat akin to a cost-of-living analysis -- the U.K. is a bit worse off. Though some things in the U.K. are cheaper, such as health care, other things are more expensive, like food, gasoline, and many consumer goods. These PPP measurements are shown by a Forbes follow-up to Nelson's calculations. If you want to delve even a little further into the numbers you can read more here.

The U.K. flag flies above Edinburgh Castle.

All of these calculations surprised me a bit, though admittedly I hadn't given a specific thought to them prior to the article and blog posts. But it's quite eye-opening in light of Scotland's upcoming independence referendum on September 18.

I've written before about the scale of Scotland's economy. With a projected 2014 GDP of $250 billion, and a population of approximately 5.3 million, Scotland has a GDP per capita of roughly $47,000. That ranks well above the U.K. as a whole; only London and part of southeast England outperform Scotland on a GDP per capita basis. I haven't located any PPP analysis for Scotland by itself, since the calculations are generally made only for the U.K. as a whole. Nevertheless, even with a sizable PPP adjustment, Scotland would rank in the middle tiers of U.S. states.

So, if the U.K. as a whole were a U.S. state, it would rank 51 out of 51. By contrast, if Scotland were a U.S. state, it would rank somewhere in the middle.

With the independence referendum now imminent, the polls have tightened considerably. According to the latest polls, the pro-independence movement has quickly closed to within about 6 percentage points (53% to 47%) of the pro-union forces. One of the main arguments made by those who want Scotland to stay in the United Kingdom has been to foretell economic doom and gloom for an independent Scotland. It's a bad economic move, they say, and possibly a catastrophe. Why would Scotland leave the U.K.'s market, its protection, its overall economic powerhouse position? Surely Scotland would be diminished, right?

But an independent Scotland would be -- in terms relative to U.S. states as well as European nations -- fairly wealthy. Not everything would be rosy, and Scotland would be forced into extremely tough negotiations with the U.K. as it departed. But all told, Scotland would not be in a terrible position. This is especially easy to see when you compare a potentially independent Scotland with the newly-freed Eastern European nations following the end of the Cold War in the early 1990s. Most of those nations are now doing passably well, particularly aided by their inclusion in the European Union and its large market. If Scotland votes for independence, even with hardship following departure from the U.K., it would be in a much better position than those Eastern European nations were in the early 1990s.

I don't want to make too much of these economic figures. GDP per capita is not a perfect measurement. Nor is adjustment for purchasing power parity, which is not an exact science. Let me stress that again: these are not perfect measurements of the U.K.'s wealth in comparison to those of the U.S. states. But in the broad brush tools of macroeconomics, it's no more objectionable than saying many other countries are poorer than U.S. states, such as Peru, Russia, South Africa, or Vietnam, to name countries at random.

Nonetheless, the calculations do provide a rough comparison. One which surprises me. I'm open to arguments that these figures are bogus or grossly misleading, if you're so inclined. Any takers?

Renewing your U.S. passport from the U.K.

You can't be an expat without a passport.

Well, you can be expat without a passport, but you're likely a criminal or on the run from the authorities.

Let's agree that being an expat without a passport is inadvisable.

Since you're law-abiding and want to travel and would prefer not to be blocked from entering the U.K., you probably don't want to follow these steps: (1) get a three-year visa for living in the U.K.; (2) move to the U.K.; (3) wait until roughly three months before your current U.S. passport expires before starting the passport renewal process;
(4) provide an inadequate photo for your passport; (5) have your passport renewal rejected paused while you fix the snafu; and (6) wonder if you'll get your passport renewed before the U.K. does something like, y'know, deport you.

Fortunately, renewing your U.S. passport while living in the U.K. -- or living in just about any other country -- isn't very difficult. Just about any moron anyone should be able to accomplish it with minimal hassle.

My renewed passport. (And thumb.)

Before we moved to the U.K., we needed to get Jackson a passport. The only challenge we had was getting our toddler, who was not yet two years old, to pose for a passport photo without moving, or smiling, or crying, or squirming, or blinking, or being, in general, obstreperous. One set of dour photos made Jackson look vaguely like a toddler axe murderer. How hard can it be to stand still for three or four seconds against this white background, without a smile or pout or goofy face? Suffice it to say we actually provided two photo options for his passport application, with a cheerful note asking them to pick which one might pass muster.

At the same time Jackson applied for his passport, Kate was due for a passport renewal of her own. She sent in her documents with his, and got her new passport without a hitch.

Meanwhile, I waited to renew my passport. I still had nearly a year of time left before I needed to renew. And in the midst of all the myriad preparations for moving overseas, I figured I didn't want to add an extra task.

It shouldn't have been a hassle for me to renew here in the U.K.; my snafus were self-inflicted wounds. Almost certainly, you'll be able renew your passport easily.

The U.S. Embassy in London, with six stories above ground and three stories below. The eagle has a wingspan of 35 feet. (Photo courtesy of Wikipedia.)

Knowing that you're smart enough to look up the directions, read them, and follow them, I'll merely mention that you should not rely on this (or any other) blog as a definitive source for passport applications and renewals. 'Nuff said. But here are the general steps you'll follow to renew your passport from the U.K.:

• Look over the web site for the Bureau of Consular Affairs, a sub-agency of the U.S. Department of State.

• More specifically, take a gander at Applying for a U.S. Passport from Outside the United States.

• Generally, you're going to follow the instructions and procedures specified by the particular U.S. Embassy in the country where you reside.

• If you reside in the U.K., your passport renewal application will be processed by the U.S. Embassy in London. It will not be handled or processed by a U.S. consulate office, such as the U.S. Consulate General in Edinburgh, Scotland.

•  Unless you are a minor under the age of 16 (in which case you will have an office appointment at a U.S. consulate or embassy), your application almost certainly will be renewed by mail.

• Your application must be renewed by mail if you have an undamaged U.S. passport; that was issued within the last 15 years; that has a 10 year validity; and either your name hasn't changed or you can submit documentation (e.g., a marriage certificate) proving the change.

• For your passport renewal, you must submit:

• your current passport;
• a passport photograph (2" x 2");
• passport application form (DS-82); and
• a nonrefundable application fee of $110.00, only in U.S. dollars (and not British pounds), paid by credit card, via a special form to be filled out.

• If you live in England, Wales, or Scotland, your passport renewal application must be sent to the U.S. Embassy via DX, a private courier service. If you reside in Northern Ireland, you must send your application via the Royal Mail's "Special Delivery" service.

• Follow all the directions provided, dimwit. All of them.

• For the DX courier service, you can contact them via their web page, or via telephone. I suggest telephone. After you make initial contact with DX, a person will call you back (usually a day later) to get your payment information and to arrange a day for picking up your documents.

• Collection happens within a few days. They'll initially give you an all-day timeframe, but you can request a collection either for morning or evening.

• Your application fee of $110.00 does not include the DX courier service, which is roughly £20.00 or so.

• Delivery to the embassy is not necessarily speedy. My documents took several days to arrive at the embassy.

• Allow about four weeks for processing by the U.S. embassy.

• During this time, the U.S. embassy sends your photo to the United States for the creation of your new passport, which is then returned to the U.K.

•  DX will contact you to inform you that your application has been processed and it has documents to deliver. You will set up a time for DX's delivery of your new passport.

• Success! Congratulations, you have a new passport.

What were the snafus during my renewal application? Two things. First, during the time my application was being considered, my credit card was cancelled by my bank because of a fraud alert, and a new credit card was issued. Apparently, the cancellation of my old credit card happened nearly concurrently with the embassy trying to process my application, and so there was nothing I could do about it until the embassy informed me they could not get payment.

The second snafu was my fault. Simply put, my passport photo was not exactly 2" x 2". It was darn close, but not quite. I had my passport photo taken at a location (a Costco) specifically listed on the embassy's web site as an acceptable passport photo provider. When I received my photos, I did notice that they weren't quite square -- I'm not a math whiz, but I know the difference between a square and a rectangle. But I figured this officially suggested photo provider knew what it was doing, and that perhaps the photo requirements had a fudge factor, since they end up cropping the photo for your passport, anyway.

Nope.

In almost all cases -- at least for anything important -- I'm an indefatigable dotter of "i"s and crosser of "t"s. And then a rechecker, and a re-rechecker. I generally scoff at people who mess these kinds of things up.

Urrrggghhh.

Artist's rendering of the new U.S. Embassy in London, expected to be completed in 2017. (Photo courtesy of U.S. Embassy web site.)

A few weeks after my renewal application, I received a gentle letter from the embassy explaining they couldn't process my application without a new payment form and a new photo. They attached a list of suggested providers of passport photos. I selected a different one (not Costco) and went the next day. Had my photo taken and provided by mail the following day. Called DX . . . and then waited for a week before they came to collect my documents. Grumble, grumble. At this point, I felt slightly nervous about having my passport renewed in time. But it was my fault; I would have to suffer the consequences.

And then, a couple of weeks later, I got a call from DX and arranged to have them deliver the "documents." Success! Or, not a complete screw-up!

My old passport.

There is a wrinkle, however. My U.K. visa was added to my old passport, and the U.S. embassy can't take the visa out and add it to the new passport. There is a process via the U.K. government to transfer the visa from the old passport to the new one, but we haven't explored that yet. I'm told it's not necessary, and I can just wait for my next visa to be added to the new passport. When we travel out of the U.K., I need to bring two passports, old and new. A very minor inconvenience.

I have the utmost confidence you'll breeze through your passport renewal. You will carefully read all the directions, get an appropriately-sized photo, and submit all the necessary documents. Really, it's not a difficult task.

Moral of the story: do as I say, not as I do.