Blossom

Appointment at the bank this morning to change Mr B's sole account into a joint one. People look at me funny when I sign cheques in his name, but since he can't write French numbers, I have to. Took in all the ID I could get my hands on, but even I was surprised at the turn of events. The bank lady couldn't understand why my maiden name wasn't in my passport:

BL: "It should be there, this is wrong."
SooB: "Well, it's never been there, just my married name. But you can see my maiden name here on my birth and marriage certificates."
BL: "Humph. Isn't it on your driving licence?"
SooB: "No. That's my driving licence in your hand, and it's in my married name. Because that's my name."
BL: "No, no, the little card licence."
(Hand over little photocard, which I hadn't given her because the address is printed bigger on the paper counterpart - therefore easier to read.)
SooB: "There it is, but it says just the same thing."

<Long pause>

BL: "Well, your maiden name will be on your national identity card. Where is that?"
SooB: "I don't have one. We don't have them in Britain."
BL: "Yes you do."
SooB: "No we don't.....They were going to introduce them but it was very expensive and then we had a new Government..."
BL: "Yes you do, I have lots of British customers who have shown me their national identity card."
SooB: "Well, we don't have them and I can't explain how you have seen one. Because we don't have them. At all. Really."

(All the while wondering if they were introduced in England while I was looking the other way. I can only imagine that some bolder British folk than me are showing their library cards instead.)

Finally, she accepted me as a customer.... As Mr B pointed out, of all the things for a bank to worry about, it is odd that they were distressed that I could not prove who I am NOT. I didn't translate his comments, even though she looked at me quite sternly when he said that.

After that, we dropped Mr B at the airport in Girona - he's off to London to buy a truck. Nothing in my life is simple at the moment. Now we will have three vehicles to move when we move house.

The garden is blooming, just to spite us for going away to a derelict wilderness of a garden (if we buy the house we might buy - mustn't jinx it now...) Not sure what this blossom is going to be. Even the mimosa is finally bursting forth (our dark gloomy winter garden is the last in the valley to get any sun, I think!)

Aside from that, I had a really sore stomach all day (get it from time to time and just have to not eat for a few days till it goes away) and a weird swollen lump behind my ear. I suppose it's a swollen gland. I suppose it'll go away.

Backblips are done from our trip away:

Sunday 30th: Mountain under bridge
Monday 31st: Man jumping from mountain
Tuesday 1st: Mountains and fence
Wednesday 2nd: Angel on mountain
Thursday 3rd: People and clouds (and mountains)
Friday 4th: Chair, and mountains
Saturday 5th: Window! No mountains.
Sunday 6th: Rocks, but not on a mountain, honest.
Monday 7th: Bridges, plus small glimpse of mountain

I'm not obsessed with big hills, honest.