Strawberry fields forever

I hadn’t been up long this morning when the phone rang…

"Hello?"

"Hello can I speak to Fred please?"

(Reluctantly"Er, speaking"

"Oh hello it’s (name unclear) from the gender clinic"

(Surprised pause) "Oh HELLO!"

They’d just received my completed questionnaire and change of name deed, and for some reason were asking that I get a solicitor to sign the deed. Of course I didn’t argue, it would be no problem. It’s a bit of a nuisance though, and a little odd. My deed is a perfectly legal document and yesterday I went to my GP’s and used it to change the name on my medical records, but the gender clinic in their wisdom require a solicitor’s signature in order to change the name on their records, what difference that makes I don’t know.

So I rang a solicitor, the only one I’ve ever used, when I bought my house about 15 years ago. They want me to come in with ID and hopefully it should be no problem. There was a surprised pause there too when I gave my name:

"… how are you spelling Lucy?"

I guess I still have a lot of work to do on my voice.

Something tells me dealing with Charing Cross will involve jumping through lots of hoops. Officially changing your name may be simple but getting anyone to recognise it is less so. I mean, anyone can register with any online store, using any name they please, and with no requirement to produce evidence of ID, but change that name and they start tying knots with red tape. Paypal are the worst so far, requiring not only the name change deed, but a copy of my passport or driver’s license. And of course most of these places require something in writing. For all these online stores and stuff it may be easier just to open a new account using my new name, will save a lot of time and postage stamps anyway. They take your word for it when you register, why can’t they do so when you change your details? Top marks go to T-mobile, who send the most courteous emails one could possibly imagine, and who have readily changed the name on my account without question.

So I’m in admin mode at the moment, with a long list of things to do, people to write to, copies required etc, and am having to juggle my various ID documents around. When I get my new ID pic signed I can then get a new driver’s license, which I can then use to get a new passport, and so on.

Doing all this would be a lot easier if I still worked in an office, having access to paper, printers, copiers and so on. I’ve had to get used to using a pen again, weird. Anyone got a printer they don’t want? My handwriting is not very elegant, looks like a drunken spider has fallen in some ink and crawled across the page.

Anyway, I took the opportunity this morning to ask the nice lady from the gender clinic if she had any idea how long I would have to wait, "It shouldn’t be too long…" exactly the response I expected. No doubt I will have to confirm my appointment in triplicate and send them a recent photo with testimonials from a police constable and a magistrate that I am who I say I am and am of sound mind. Or maybe they will attempt to judge the state of my mind for themselves. That should be fun. Though I am of course, completely normal...

Footnotes:

I have been asked to make it absolutely clear that I am not, nor ever have been called Fred. As far as bloke names go mine was fine, and I never would have changed it had I not actually been a woman. It must be a local thing; you don’t know someone’s name – you call them Fred.

My hands are like shovels, as I’m sure you have noticed, Cerys.

Anyone who thinks my strawberries are crap need not expect to be served organically produced fresh fruit picked straight from the garden when they visit my house. Fruit that has indeed been nurtured by Lucy’s loving shovels. I mean hands. Furthermore, fruit that would probably be the best you had ever had the chance to taste had you not been such a sarcastic old cow. You should be ashamed of yourselves.

Looks like I may be having a bumper crop of pears this year, I will be taking photo’s of them too, along with my lovely sweet red apples, which happen to be called "Katie", each and every one.

Anyway, it’s down the apples and pears for me, I need a strawberry fix.

xx