The original plan for today was for me to go to the Australian Embassy in Stockholm in order to have our marriage certificate notarized as such. Of course, given the current foot status, that was a bit difficult for me, so Mirinda deputised and went instead.
It turns out that our marriage certificate, direct from the vicar and signed by all parties, is worth diddly squat. We need the official government entry. While I’m obviously happy that the church holds less sway, it’s a bit annoying to discover that there’s no acceptable evidence that we actually got married.
Not that it was a completely wasted trip. Mirinda managed to return something to Åhléns for a full refund. She also bought me some thick socks in different colours.
In the meanwhilst, I was home making balls. Two types. One sweet and the other savoury.
Mirinda had requested Swedish meatballs for dinner tonight. She had also sent me a recipe for carrot cake balls rolled in coconut, for a sweet, keto treat; an alternative to the pecan bites I made earlier.
They were both very good. And, almost made up for the marriage disappointment.
I also managed to get a doctor’s appointment for tomorrow morning.
You’d think 32 years of actual marriage would be enough! But no. And I had to walk up 8 flights for nothing.
Both balls were yumbo