You will remember that I have a friend who, because of a slight mix-up in the Register Office, had a daughter who didn't officially exist, and who had to affirm that she was indeed present at the birth of said daughter, something occasioning many a smile, even guffaw, from those innocents happily unacquainted with the labyrinthine ways and byways of bureaucracy.
Well, there is a happy ending, ish. For another registrar, just after the affirmation ceremony and no doubt while a hefty bill was being prepared, suddenly remembered an interesting point, hitherto overlooked - that birth certificates are but copies, allegedly accurate copies, of the entries in the original register. "And that must be in the strongroom..."
It was. And it bore the correct date of birth (mother had remembered it quite well, being, as we don't need to be reminded, there at the time.) But betwixt and between the original entry and the certificate of birth a small error had crept in. Only a small one - the wrong day.
So happy mother, happy daughter, and happy registrar. And, best of all, no hefty bill.
But how fortunate that mother is still with us, and not regaling the angels in heaven with merry anecdotes about being a wife of the Cloth, otherwise her daughter would have had a bit of a problem when faced with implacable Bumbledom, being non-existent.
Oh, Dickens, would that thou wert alive at this hour!
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