“So, can you tell me if you are related to your fiancé?”
Yesterday The Bloke and I went to the neighbouring town to declare our Notice of Marriage.
The process is essentially there to legally declare our intention to marry within the next twelve months. However, as simple as this initially sounded, I soon discovered that it would be a little more complicated than telling someone and getting a certificate.
We live in a small town on the outskirts of Birmingham. We’re getting married at a venue in Birmingham and because neither of us have a religious faith we have opted for a registrar from Birmingham Register Office to officiate the ceremony instead of a vicar.
HOWEVER, what we discovered was that we had to declare our Notice of Marriage at the place that we pay our council tax to, and this is not Birmingham Council. So, we had to go out to another register office and do the paperwork there instead, which meant that The Bloke had to leave work really early because they don’t do evening or weekend appointments. And (as I have also discovered with a lot of things to do with wedding planning) we would be charged more money for the papers. We declare the marriage, our names are displayed for 28 days, the marriage certificate is released, sent to Birmingham and then the registrar brings it with them to the ceremony.
So, after spending some time hunting down all of the documentation that they were requesting I found myself sitting in a room with a very serious looking woman who was asking me basic questions about my information. I didn’t mind that – I am good at remembering dates of birthdays etc, but then the conversation got a little weird.
Her: So, The Bloke’s name is *******
Her: How do you spell that?
Me: Erm… I’m not sure.
Now, there is a valid reason for this. The Bloke and several of his immediate family members are called by their middle names, and in all of the years I have known him I have never referred to him by his first name nor have had to write it down, so I couldn’t remember how to spell it as there are numerous variations. She seemed to accept my explanation and then looked at his passport to double-check. Phew. The rest of the questions were fine, until she caught me off guard.
Her: So, can you tell me if you are related to your fiancé?
I couldn’t help but laugh out loud and replied with a ‘I hope not!’… I did get the urge to ask whether anyone had actually answered ‘yes’ to that question but stopped myself as I figured that if there was a time that I needed to be sensible, then this was it. Although, at the end I did ask her to test The Bloke on whether he knew when my birthday was and let me know if he gave the right answer, and she laughed and agreed.
The Bloke then went in and answered his questions, and when she came out she promptly informed me that he had passed the test and got it right.
Good man. It made me laugh, but she must have thought I was a right plonker…
That’s the last of the legalities to sort out. Now it’s just the fluffy extras to finish off and actually buy a dress!
So, he’s told someone legally that he wants to marry me, so now he has to! At least, that’s why I told him on the way home…
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