D Day...

D  DAY

It seemed appropriate that on D Day the skies were November Grey instead of June Bright. The rain was torrential as we left the house separately; he in his car and me in a taxi. I picked up my best friend and went to the Court Building. All the small private rooms were taken, so we took seats in one of the rows in the lobby area. Myself and my friend sat, not speaking. I wasn’t capable of it. All the time the tears threatened to spill.
There was a call for a particular courtroom and dozens of people rushed into that room. Around us solicitors and barristers argued and to- and -fro’d between their clients. A woman said “Ask him about the secret bank account I know he has”. One solicitor said to another “He can’t spring that on us now, the agreement has already been made”. Strange, strange, atmosphere. There was a call for Court 31; our designated room. Lots of people rushed in there. Puzzled, I asked the person in uniform if I should go in? Oh yes, I most certainly should.. I stepped into a court room for the first time. There was a Registrar seated at a long bench which had a digital clock like an electronic ribbon running along the top of it.  The Judge sat behind the Registrar at a higher bench. In the body of the courtroom, a rail, two benches and chairs. A witness box on the left hand side of the Judge’s bench.

The Court Register began calling cases using initials; AB and CB. MOR and AOR and so on. As each pair were called, they stepped forward and confirmed their presence. When our initials were called, I stepped forward. The Judge asked was he present. Oh, yes, I said, he’s outside. His name was then called out in full and in he came. Her Honour didn’t look too impressed. On went the roll call. On some occasions a solicitor or barrister stepped up and asked if the case could be deferred as there was a dispute regarding assets between the parties. On one occasion a woman dressed in leopard print top and leggings and tons of jewellery stepped up and was asked was her husband there. “No, he isn’t, he’s in a mental hospital, does it matter?” she said. Apparently it did matter, quite a lot, at least to the judge…

At 11.30 it was over.  I made it to the Ladies Room before collapsing in tears. Afterwards, my friend and I walked through the rain and sat in a pub, drinking. Got a taxi home.

Do I feel different? No. Do I feel devastated? Yes. Do I feel let down? Yes, majorly. Plus; the judge decided that the info re pensions was not conclusive/blah/blah so that’s to be heard in July? So the agony is not over yet…