I had my passport taken away when I tried to get home to Britain – why?

Earlier this month I decided to take a solo trip to Paris. I’ve always been in love with the city but have never visited as an independent adult. In October I entered my late twenties and thought what better time to travel alone and explore the delights France has to offer?

I took the Eurostar and my journey out of London could not have been easier – I joked on Twitter that it has taken me longer to change in between underground stations on London’s tube system than it took me to get from London to Paris.

I spent four days and three nights in Paris consuming my body weight in baguettes and croissants. I visited the Louvre, took an obligatory photo outside the Eiffel Tower, made new friends from New York and Taiwan who were also visiting Paris. To summarise, I had the best trip I could ever imagine.

On the Saturday afternoon, I made my way to Gard du Nord train station and arrived nearly three hours early for my train home because I am nothing if not a perennial early bird. Check in for the Eurostar opened two hours early – and at 15.13 ,I was one of the first people in line for the 17.13 train.

Now, some of you will be familiar with my immigration nightmare surrounding the EU Settlement Scheme where I was previously rejected numerous times and was finally granted my full right to remain in the UK earlier this year – though I had to launch a social media campaign to be able to do so. I wrote about it here.

I thought my immigration nightmare was over and although I was scarred by the experience, I was looking forward to living the rest of my life in the UK without fear of my status being called into question.

Yet my troubles began when my passport wouldn’t scan through the electronic barriers and I was waved over to the UK border force kiosk. I handed over my Dutch passport and waited patiently whilst the UK border officer scanned my details. As I stood there, I overheard a British woman speaking to another border officer. She had forgotten her passport in France – where she lives – but had a photo of her passport and was asking if she could travel.

I remember looking at her, slightly amused, thinking, “Good luck lady” – but to my shock she was let through before me and I was the one who was further questioned. The UK border officer dealing with me asked me for my “reason for travelling” – when I replied, “Oh, just a holiday”, he asked me if I was coming to the UK for a holiday… and I was flabbergasted.

Could he not see that I had my full EU Settled Status? Didn’t my accent give me away as a seasoned Londoner?

He said he needed to do “further examination” because I had “failed immigration checks”. He handed me a form on an A5 piece of paper and asked me to step to the side. I asked for my passport back and he refused.

At this point my ears were ringing and I moved to the corner waiting for someone to explain to me what was going on. Thankfully, I had my phone and so I started calling friends and family and I also took to Twitter to document my experience.

Tears streamed down my face as I read the form I was handed. It had my name and my passport number at the top and it was written in legal jargon. There were two boxes checked: one that I had failed immigration checks – and then that I was apparently being held under the Immigration Act of 1971.

Finally, someone came to speak to me and said that because I was previously denied my EU Settled Status, they had to “investigate further”. I told him I was going to miss my train. He replied: “you’ve already missed it”.

I sat on a bench watching everyone pass through security and I honestly felt as though I had a concussion. I kept reading the form but I couldn’t seem to make any more sense of my situation – my tears were falling on the A5 piece of paper. I was also on Twitter doing all I could do: anxiously tweeting the Home Office and the UK border force.

I was beside myself with worry, alone in France and had nowhere to go that night.

Then someone came back with a totally different attitude. This man was apologising and handing me my passport back – suddenly, I was being escorted through the barriers.

The shock overwhelmed me. My phone was low on battery and my signal terrible, but I tried to inform everyone that I was safe and on the train.

While I was on the train, the Home Office press office rang me and said, “we can see you’ve been messaging us on Twitter”. I took a deep breath and asked them if they’d seen my latest tweets. The press officer asked me to “hold on a moment” – I could practically hear him refreshing my Twitter feed.

“Oh,” he said. “I can see you have told everyone  you’re on the train.”

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I stayed silent and he said that he was calling to request that I take a photo of the UK border force kiosk down. I told him “I can do that” – and after an awkward pause he wished me a “safe journey back” and put the phone down.

I made it back to London and took an Uber straight to my mum’s house. That night I felt like I was still in shock. My experience with the UK border force would have left anyone shaken and upset, but against the backdrop of my history with the EU Settlement Scheme it was enough to traumatise me.

And my experience is not an isolated one. Just last month, a report revealed the issues EU citizens face when travelling and warned that it is going to get worse when the UK implements new changes next year.

I thought my personal ordeal was over months ago – yet Saturday’s events bought back such painful memories. I hope this is the last of my negative experiences with the EU Settlement Scheme and that others won’t have to suffer like I have.