Best you make a cuppa before you start on this one.
Once upon a time a couple got married, had kids and gave them names (because otherwise it is just too confusing).
After a bit they got divorced and the woman married someone else. Lets call him newfather.
So the kids all changed their surname to newfather.
No big deal – this would have to happen to tens of thousands of people.
Life goes on and one of the children gets a drivers license and has to fill out a special form explaining about the remarriage and the newfather name.
Life goes on even further and the whole thing is never thought about….the kid has been a new-father since she was about 5. Banks stuff, house mortgage, university diplomas..everything is newfather
So welcome to the present day when Jodie –next bit, middle name, newfather decides she might need a passport. She figures she will need a full birth certificate, not just an extract and proceeds to dig out the extract.
Well surprise surprise ! of course Jodie is expecting it to read “jodie-nextbit, middle name, oldfather” but it doesn’t…..it reads Jodie, next bit, oldfather.
WHAT ? the next bit is not joined to Jodie with a little hyphen ??? really??? and where is my Middle name ???
As you can imagine this brought about some discussion with the mother. Apparently when Jodie was baptised the priest was not impressed with the Jodie, next bit, oldfather name as it did not contain any Saints names so he joined the next bit to Jodie with a dinky little hyphen and added the middle Saint’s name himself….
So I have been lugging around this great big overweight name for all this time when I didn’t have to.
Hurray….a legal name is in order to go back to Jodie, next bit, newfather (and then a passport)….however if I do that I would have to change every other piece of paper in my life. That just seems like a whole new can of hassle.
So now I have to legally change my name from Jodie next bit, , oldfather to ummmm, Jodie-next bit, Middle name, newfather, the name I have been using for thirty something years.
The first attempt was rejected by the office of pink polka dots because I was born under the jurisdiction of the office of green squiggles.
You know what, you can call me freakin’ Elvis if it will get me a passport.
I may be swimming to Portland.