I changed my name recently – getting married can do that to you. The thing is, I keep forgetting.
There’s nothing like being unable to place your own name to make other people think you’re an idiot. It doesn’t help when you forget your address in the same sentence. Bloody forms. Why do they always need your name and address anyway? Stupid passports. You’d have thought a terribly unflattering picture would be enough.
Anyway, when I married the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine I decided not to follow my new husband’s suggestion and call myself Mrs Northern Love Machine. Instead I took his actual name: Weaver. Continue reading