Keep right on to the end of the road.

I have a confession to make. People think I’m organised. By profession, I’m a librarian. Trained to develop effective retrieval systems for all manner of information, so that when someone wants something, that something, should be quickly identified, located and brought to the enquirer.

When I worked for a pharmaceutical company, I was landed with the organisation of their scientific archives. Details of projects, experiments, tests etc. to support the company’s products. All these records had to be readily available to any regulatory authority, worldwide, at any time, so that checks could be made, claims confirmed and all the work done verified. By the time a regulatory authority came to visit, we had the average search and production of documentation time down from 20 minutes to 8. The system wasn’t foolproof, no system ever could be. But it worked.

So, please could someone tell me why, in my own personal filing, I can find a receipt for an insignificant item I bought in 2005, but I cannot track down my birth certificate? I can show you pictures of me from age 0 to the present day. I can even show you the original wedding certificates for my parents and both sets of grandparents. I have my great-great grandmother’s death certificate from 1884. But if you were to ask me to prove I was born and my birth name, all I would be able to do would be look in a mirror and assure you that the reflection was definitely me.

This is just the last in a long line of things not going as they should. Perhaps it’s the weather. Sunshine and showers – showers as I type this. Perhaps it is my turn for rough water. Perhaps as I see summer going by so fast, I’m beginning to dread the coming dark nights and cold weather. Perhaps my attitude of persistence, determination and pressing on is suffering more than a little hiccup.

But perhaps, just perhaps, this is the darkest hour before the dawn. And if I find the bloody birth certificate, that might perhaps be a sign. I’ll keep you posted.