We took ourselves off to the registry office to register the birth of Richmond Baby. It was like something out of “Little Britain”…
On arrival, we were greeted by a heavily made up woman – the type who wears lipstick outside of her actual lips – who opened the window of a little glass hatch to enquire into our reason for being there. “We’re here to register a birth” we explained. “Do take a seat over there” she said, “someone will be right with you”. So we headed to the waiting area. And just as we were lowering our posteriors into the uncomfy looking chairs, said woman then appears the other side of the hatch announcing, without irony, “okay, I’m ready now, do come through…”
She goes through the endless questions to fill in our particulars, tapping away on her keyboard in a “computer says no” fashion. She asks my maiden name – “Incocciati”- I say, spelling it out for her. “And where were you born?”, she continues. “Croydon” I respond. “Oh,” she says “that’s disappointing, I was hoping it would be somewhere more exotic with a name like that…”. “Well, ” I said, “Croydon is exotic in it’s own way…”, “it’s not really though is it” she says, deadpan. “Okay, no not really, maybe it’s actually exotic in no way, ” I say (with sense of humour)… “yeah, in no way” she says, then continues to tap tap tap on her keyboard.