Finally terminated my contract on my UK mobile SIM, which expired at midnight last night. I’ve had a Swedish number since April or thereabouts, and there’s no way to maintain a valid UK number without considerable hoopla and at least £10 of costs per month… and of course the affordances of EU roaming data are likely to disappear within a few weeks, too. Plus I have no plans to return to the Septic Isle in the near future, or even the medium future. So it was a logical move.
(If you don’t have that Swedish number, and would like to have it, drop me an email.)
The disconnection is not without some symbolic freight, of course. One friend, when I informed them of the change in advance about a month ago, replied with something along the lines of “now imagining a tiny viking longship aflame on a beach somewhere”; it seemed a little too strong an image at the time, but it makes sense today. The impact is amplified by my having had the same mobile number for, what, fifteen years? Plus now I’m apparently unreachable via SMS to my UK bank, despite them having the option to enter a non-UK number for that purpose… likewise HMRC, but they received my final year of freelance accounts and my final tax payment back in the spring. Burning the boat, indeed.
Also had to reapply for residency this month, due to You Know What. Largely a formality: a little bit of Nordic bureaucracy to ensure that those Brits who came here under EU freedom of movement can sustain those rights as promised by our host country. Once I’ve been here five years, I can apply for citizenship.
The relevant date is already marked in my calendar.