Anyone bored enough to be reading this will be surprised to learn that among my dearest possessions are my fridge magnets. Sad I know, but true. They have been lovingly accumulated over many years and each one has a special memory. My favourite reads ‘Love may be blind, but marriage is a real eye opener’. I hadn’t realised quite how true this is, until I got married!
Ours was a gunshot wedding. No. not in that way! It was just that hubby had only been in the country a month when we got married. I’d met him on holiday abroad whilst visiting various distant relatives (after meeting them, I wished I had kept my distance)! He was at the home of one of them when I turned up. I later met him again by chance at Rawalpindi Railway Station (Platform no. 5) and kept bumping into him unexpectedly throughout my stay. I thought he was a nice guy with a nice smile and an endearing way about him. Hmmm.
When I came back home, I wrote to his Mum to thank her for her hospitality. He wrote back and thus we continued to correspond and the rest is (horrible) history. There were no mobile phones, computers, tablets, Face Time or Skype in those days, so the only way of communication was by (slow) letter. Mum and dad had a phone, but it cost £1.00 per minute to make a call so that was clearly out. To use it would have made us poorer, but BT richer. Also, I didn’t know at the time if my future was with Platform no. 5, so didn’t want to invest that kind of lolly in a relationship that may not last. I’d much rather spend my hard earned cash on turtle neck sweaters, dungarees, embroidered cheesecloth blouses and twin sets. Another weakness at the time (swinging seventies) was for metal chain belts and plastic jewellery (all of which I had in abundance).
The reason the wedding happened in such a rush was that Platform No. 5 was the only guy who expressed the slightest interest in marrying me! My dad was so afraid that he would get away, that he rushed ahead with preparations for the whirlwind marriage. I was 23 and already considered ‘over the hill’ so it was felt drastic measures should be taken. To make the marriage proposal more attractive to my intended and to encourage him to ‘apply for the post’, he was informed that I could cook, make chutney, sew, embroider, knit and clean. Of-course none of that was true (except the chutney bit), but by the time he found out, it was too late.
After we were married, the problems began. Not in our marriage you’ll be glad to hear (not then anyway), but with the Home Office. They suspected foul play and considered ours a marriage of convenience. They thought he had married me for my British passport. This was utter rubbish! He actually married me for my coriander chutney making skills.
The Home Office then began proceedings to have hubby removed from the country as an unwanted alien. And so the battle began. We had to show all kinds of evidence that ours was a genuine marriage and that he wouldn’t leave me once he received the coveted red document. I’m sure there were times he must have wanted to (especially when he walked in on me with my face slathered in Oil of Olay one day), but he persevered with his application.
Our story (and our facial features) made the local paper as well as a couple of papers abroad as a travesty of justice. We became minor celebrities. Boy, did I enjoy the fame. I’d always wanted to be famous (had Posh Spice been around then, I would have practised her sullen pouty look for the publicity pics). The story was printed beside an article about a Bonny Babies contest on one side and several columns of second hand items for sale including horse manure (can’t get more second hand than that) on the other.
The case dragged on (rather like this blog) and we had to go to court to fight our case. My employers at that time were wonderful (or foolish) and wrote to the Home Office saying they would offer hubby employment if necessary (this was before Equal Opportunities regulations kicked in). It took fifteen months, but we eventually won. The relief was unbelievable.
Our wedding gifts had remained unopened all this time as we didn’t know what the result of our battle would be. We opened them with great excitement (but soon wished we hadn’t) as discovered six fruit salad sets, four drinking glasses sets, two cups and saucers sets (Woolworths labels intact), a cutlery set, an electric knife (why?) a tea cosy (we didn’t have a tea pot) and other weird and wonderful items that now escape me. The gifts ‘opening ceremony’ meant that we could now start our married life proper.
When I first met hubby (now tubby), I found certain mannerisms endearing. These included him tapping his pockets to search for items (a bit like my hero Columbo). Forty years later, whereas Columbo is still endearing, I now find hubby doing it just annoying. I no longer have the patience to hang around while he searches for his car keys, home keys, Oyster card, credit card, pen or tooth picks as he mutters “They must be here somewhere”.
Another thing I now find frustrating is when he starts DIY projects. When it comes to building things, hubby thinks he is the DIY SOS team rolled into one. When he decides he is going to make something, I take cover. He is the only person I know who sets out as many tools to fit a cat flap as a whole team of builders would to build an extension!
For him to replace one roll of wallpaper, means that I am unable to use any room in the house safely for weeks. There is a pasting table in one room; brushes in another; a ladder and bucket in yet another. His reasoning is that it’s not safe to overfill a room in case of accidents. Well, I’ve tripped over the blooming pasting table as it was placed right next to the ironing board which was set next to the clothes rack!
Before I finally flip, I usually try and reason with him thus: When I think about baking a cake, I make sure I have all the ingredients I need first. Sensible no? It would be silly to mix the butter and sugar only to realise there is no flour. So, it makes sense to do a stock take first and go from there.
Not Mr M. Oh no. He has a tendency to do things in stages. Again, rather like Columbo, he finds he needs ‘just one more thing’. He will start to saw wood and discover he needs a hinge or two for the project. After a quick visit to Wickes, he returns proudly with the item and a little while later finds that he has run out of timber. Thinking he might find it cheaper in B&Q or Homebase (forgetting it was on special offer in the first place), he visits those stores only to discover it was cheaper in the first shop! By then, half the day has gone (along-with half a tank of petrol), so the project is put off until the next weekend. Years go by in this way.
In 1998 the ceiling light in our dining room became loose and dangled a bit too low for comfort. There was a real danger of it falling on someone’s head in the middle of them enjoying a plate of chicken tikkas. Two decades later, it is still not fixed! The problem? He hasn’t found a matching wire. Seeing that the house was built in 1928, I really can’t see Wickes and co having a reel of the original wire lying around on their premises! I think the Channel Tunnel probably got built faster than a lock gets fitted on our front door!
Years ago, hubby (sorry, tubby) decided to replace all our carpets with wooden floors; so off they all came, and down went the floorboards. All good until he got to the doors. He found they needed to be chiselled a bit at the bottom for them to be able to close as the floor had become a little higher. Another visit to Wickes saw him return with an electric saw. Once he had finished his handiwork, we discovered the doors had been cut too short. We now have doorstops in every room as the doors won’t stay open by themselves. To get a better idea of what I mean, imagine a lady wearing a midi dress when it should be a maxi. Get the picture? Well, I know what I mean.
In-spite of all the above misadventures - and God only knows how - we celebrated our Ruby anniversary recently. I think part of the reason for having stayed together all these years is that neither one of us could have faced the alternative. We briefly discussed once about what would happen about the kids if we ended up separating. He said “you have them” and I said “No. You have them”! The fear of one of us ending up with both of our children meant we never took things further.
Having said all the above, I am really pleased that we proved the Home Office wrong all those years ago, especially as they were certain the marriage was all a sham. I look forward to celebrating our Golden anniversary and just hope that hubby doesn’t start fixing the roof anytime soon!
On a more serious note, I am sure that some of our RCYPN members know of families awaiting decisions about their status in the UK. I remember hearing from some of them through previous events with refugees that people can wait years before knowing their fate. Even after children are born, a decision is not made about their future. As I know from personal experience, this can be so unsettling and all plans have to be put on hold. This includes being unable to get a job, housing, benefits etc. This clearly must have an impact on the children and their future health and wellbeing and their ability to make a positive contribution to society.
For all these reasons, I hope the situation improves for all children and families in such situations.
