When the polling card for this May’s local elections arrived, as usual I stuck it on the fridge absent-mindedly without looking. It was only when it fell off the fridge at the weekend that, in picking it up, I noticed the small print about bringing photo ID to vote for the first time this year.
Like countless other married women, I live a double life. I kept my maiden name for work and assorted official purposes, but use my married name for the personal stuff: school runs, doctor’s appointments, taking the dog to the vet. Having two identities feels like a useful marker of where “work me” clocks off and the private one takes over, but administratively speaking … well, let’s not mention the time my husband booked a surprise weekend abroad, and I unromantically pointed out en route to Heathrow that my ticket was in the wrong name.
