Well waddya know? Since I last blogged about being busy but needing to blog more frequently, it’s been even longer since I have blogged. I am a bad blogger. Mea Culpa and all that.
In my defence, this year has turned out to be very… challenging. Because I am irritatingly optimistic, let’s focus on the good stuff. In May/June, my best mate and I both turned 50 (I know! I don’t look a day over 29… *ahem*…). I have no idea how this happened. We celebrated by going to Madrid, where we drank far too much and did #statueLOLs. Hurrah!
In July, despite working full time at a job with a three hour round commute and covering for several colleagues on long-term sick leave, Luce finished her Master’s Degree in Family Law. Not only that, she graduated with distinction and won the prize for best student. Obviously. Because she is brilliant. Yay!
It is hard to be positive about August but let’s try; I finally dealt with many niggling medical issues, including my increasingly dodgy lower back. It had been getting worse for some time but I had been ignoring it until it threw a massive hissy fit and my right leg started hurting and stopped working. September was mostly spent getting irritated and being scanned. Long story short, I need more back surgery. This is scheduled for 29 October, which means that my Halloween and Christmas plans have had to be shelved; more on that later in another blog, one which I promise will happen this year.
So what do you do in a stressful, dramatic year like this? Why, obviously you plan to get married! For those of you who don’t know, last year the law was changed to allow marriage for same-sex couples and those of us who were ‘civilly partnered’ could convert if we wished. And we wished. The story of that day is the perfect illustration of how this year has gone:
Luce and I met on 16 October 1998 and we have always celebrated that as our anniversary. When it became possible for us to be Civil Partners, we waited a couple of years and did it when that date first fell on a Saturday. This year, our 17th anniversary and the 5th anniversary of our Civil Partnership, it fell conveniently on a Friday, so the date is really important. You need to remember that bit.
We were sensible; we weren’t up to another big party so we arranged a quiet weekend away with four of our closest friends. We decided to do the conversion in Halifax, the nearest registry office to Hebden Bridge, where we are planning to relocate next year. We set off in good time, had a great journey, walked the dogs and met up with our friends with half an hour to spare before our 2pm appointment. We discovered that Halifax Registry Office, despite sounding… less than picturesque, looks like this. Who knew?
We got called into the registrar’s office and we presented our documents: two proofs of ID and our Civil Partnership certificate. Then – because 2015 – the registrar said “do you have your *actual* certificate?” We did not.
Yep. My wife (you remember her, the one with the Master’s Degree in family law. The one who lectures students about it. The one who has been published several times on the subject of Civil Partnerships and equal marriage) had brought the wrong piece of paper. And without the relevant number on that missing document, we were not getting married.
[Luce’s note: To explain myself: the whole point of civil partnership is that it is not marriage, so I assumed they’d designed a different certificate that was not a marriage certificate. But, still, a schoolgirl error that I may rightly never live down.]
[Sam’s note: I didn’t blame Luce for a minute. I really didn’t. It’s just so unlikely that it could only have happened this year!]
Everyone at Halifax was lovely. They tried to ring our local registry office and get it sent over but couldn’t get an answer. The switchboard were also very helpful and we tried for the next hour or so… only to discover that (2015 again) the local registry office close at 2pm on Fridays.
We both put a brave face on it but we were devastated. Remember how significant the date was? The marriage would be back-dated to 2010 but we would forever have to put a thumb over the date on the certificate if it didn’t match. Doomily and gloomily we set off for our holiday cottage and the phone rang. We screeched to a halt. Could it be? But no. It was the hospital where I’m having my surgery reminding us about payment. Misery.
Phone rings again. Whatever. We pull over again and (because lows but also highs, remember?) it is the local registry office! They send the piece of paper through, we burn rubber back to Halifax hoping against hope that the registrar can still fit us in and… we get married! The relief makes the whole experience one of the best days of our lives and we have a fabulous weekend where everyone ribs Luce about not recognising a marriage certificate and no one cares, because we are married. After feeling married for 17 years, we are finally, actually, legally married.
And that makes us grin, like this:
And if you spot the lyrical reference in this blog title, you REALLY need to come and talk music with me.