Peter and I have decided to get married. Finally.
Why would anyone our age bother with marriage?
We’ve been friends since 2011 — and lovers living together in Guanajuato since 2013. We’ve talked about getting married. Yes. No. Yes. No. Yes. But — why?
Pragmatically, marriage makes sense. Peter and I want to make decisions for each other without legal hassles of “relationship.” He’s a British citizen. I’m an American. We live in Mexico. We travel the world. His children live in Mexico. Mine live in the USA. I’m 70-fucking-2 years old. He’s five years younger. Anything could happen – from old-age maladies to being run over by a bus.
I can’t imagine life without him.
We want to do this in England, his country of citizenship where we own a “holiday home” in Devonshire, on the beach of Plymouth Sound overlooking Cornwall – where his sister, his cousin, and childhood friends live. When we return to Mexico, we’ll have a Vows Ceremony with other family and friends – and, of course, a huge celebration.
Silly me. I thought making the decision was the hard part. After that — we just get a marriage license and Do It.
WRONG.
We don’t plan to live in England permanently. I’m merely a tourist to this country who wants to marry a Brit. Not so in the opinion of The Government who, apparently, views me as an immigrant planning to suck the country dry.
Interesting — being on the receiving side of The Immigrant Issue.
The official government website has a Requirements section for those they envision as people like me. Confusing – particularly since I’m not trying to “immigrate” to England. Which of the multitude of requirements actually addresses our situation?
Cousin Margot to the rescue! Margot, who lives in Plymouth, actually talked with Someone Who Knows. She set up our required appointment with a Registry Official who even provided a follow-up email with bullet-points and yellow highlights — outlining the specific documents necessary for our appointment to apply for marriage in the UK.
Needless to say, I carefully studied the information in this letter and on the website.
Do we have everything we need?
Passports. Check.
My deceased husband’s death certificate. Check.
Proof of residence. Check.
Plus everything else I thought might be necessary as back-up data to prove I’m worthy of marrying an exalted citizen of the United Kingdom: Social Security and bank statements
(I won’t be a financial drain on the British System), driver license, birth certificate. Birth certificates for Peter’s children. And. Having previously dealt with Mexican paperwork, I include multiple copies of each document.
We are prepared.
We think.
On May 18, precisely at noon, we meet Carol, our UK Registry Official.
First question: “Have you booked the venue?”
“Why would we book the venue before we have the government’s blessing?”
The reply: “Permission to marry is ‘venue specific.’”
Has this been referenced in any of the literature?
No.
Let’s clarify:
Before this meeting during which the government requires a full hour of interviews (Peter and I together, then each separately) after which the interviewer sends her recommendation to the home office in London — and then these government personnel review the information and make the final decision: Can we marry in England – or not? And. This decision may come as quickly as 28 days or may perhaps take up to 70 days. (I’m told that since I’m An Immigrant, the decision will take a while.) But – back to the point: Before this meeting in which The Authorities eventually decide our suitability to marry — Before this decision is made for us by a nebulous someone, at an unknown sometime, in London — which could take over two months — We have to book the marriage venue and date?!
This is a joke – right?
They’re serious.
Before Carol can even conduct the interview, we have to secure the exact location and the date.
Is it just me, or is this counter-intuitive?
Book the venue before we even know if we can get married??
Not to mention that nowhere on the website or in any of the informational documents is this “minor detail” listed as a prerequisite.
We can, however, book the Plymouth Registry Office for the wedding.
Great.
Do we want the Quick-and-Simple (my term, not Carol’s) that includes the happy couple plus two witnesses — or do we want the Wedding Party option with a capacity for up to 55 guests? For Quick and Simple, we pay £20 to reserve, then £46 more the day of wedding, plus £4 for each copy of the certificate. The Big Room is £140 plus-plus.
Quick-and-Simple sounds perfect. Problem solved.
Oh — wait.
What if we don’t get approved before the scheduled date? Not to worry. We can change the date for only £10. (Yes. We can change the date — but not the venue.)
Done deal.
Next question:
“Do you have your passport-size pictures?”
Another minor detail not mentioned in the informational documents.
Obviously, we don’t randomly carry passport-size photos in our wallets.
No pictures. No interview.
We can’t complete this necessary part of the process today. But Carol’s willing to check our other documentation to make sure we have everything.
Passports: Fine.
Proof of residence: I produce the Council Tax bill.
Not good enough. There is no mail delivery at our residence because it’s a “holiday home.” Thus, the bill (which references our address) goes to Peter’s sister. I’d anticipated something like this so I brought along the deed and title to our house and all related correspondence. Yes. This is good. (Although we found out later, it’s not. For proof of residence, we need a current energy bill. Go figure.)
My previous husband’s death certificate: I hand her the original, state-certified document. I’m confident. Nothing can go wrong with this.
Carol studies it closely. She’s never encountered one from Colorado before.
Alas. My name on this certificate as wife of the deceased is Mary R. Denton — my maiden name.
“Why the initial R?”
Because my middle name is Raye.
“Why is the name on your passport Mary Denton Jordan?”
Because they only have space for only one middle name; my maiden name makes more sense. It ties together all my accounts.
Long pause. She needs to talk with a superior.
Carol finally returns. “Do you have a copy of your marriage certificate?”
Jim and I were married in 1989. I do have this document – – somewhere in in the bowels of my Tuff Shed on the side of a hill in Colorado, USA. Not terribly convenient.
Frown. “If you don’t have the marriage certificate, do you have another official document to connect the dots: Mary R. Jordan to Mary Denton Jordan?”
Good grief. For many years, I’ve been doing my best to assure that all accounts and documents list me as Mary Denton Jordan.
Luckily, my efforts weren’t totally successful because after searching my computer records (Yes. I brought my computer), I found one account listing me as Mary R .Jordan.
Whew! (Saved from digging through my Tuff Shed nearly halfway around the world.)
So the only thing actually holding us back are the 2”x2” photos.
Can we get them now and come back this afternoon?
Of course not. This is, after all, Wedding Season. Lots of applicants.
Next available appointment is in three weeks – June 5. Then, of course, we have to await The Decision.
But.
We have the venue.
To be continued….
¡La Vida Es Rica! ~ Life is Delicious! 