Breaking Up Is Hard to Do

Having been married in 1972 and granted a legal separation in 1979, I observed the Great Irish Divorce Debates of the 80s with more than a passing interest.
Hot Press actively supported the Yes campaign and my wife was an activist with the Divorce Action Group. Having had the misfortune to be born a Roman Catholic, I had tried to obtain a church annulment, had my case considered by a panel, but failed.
Strangely enough, I don t remember any obstacles at all to our marriage, presumably an event to be encouraged wholeheartedly as it would be expected to furnish the church with a few more unwitting customers. On that score their ruse failed, since neither myself or my wife wanted a family anyway. But there is a stark contrast between the ease with which one can marry and the difficulties thrust in your path when you want to stop being married.
In practical terms our annulment should have been a mere formality. There were no children and no property to haggle over, while both of us were in reasonable health, independent of spirit and in secure careers. But no, there were, and still are, many people who want married couples to live together whether they like it or not, just because their religion says so. A former boss even told my current partner that there was enough evil in the world without bringing in divorce.
So I took some considerable pleasure in the result of the divorce referendum, not only for personal reasons but because I d become more than a little nauseated by the self-righteousness and lack of compassion of the No lobby.
In 1996 my current partner and I, with whom I d been living since 1980 a period already several times longer than my marriage decided we should move out of Dublin to live in the countryside. In order to facilitate the sale of my existing house we needed the co-operation of my wife as she had been a party to the purchase of the house, although I had long since made a financial settlement with her and her name was no longer on either the deeds or on the mortgage.
After the sale went through, my partner and I agreed that, since our new house was jointly in her name and mine, I should also consider seeking a divorce which would then close any loopholes that might cause problems down the line. So she took on the task of speaking to the solicitor who had overseen the sale of the house. Her first step was to ask him for a price. Since he had seen at first hand how co-operative my wife had been, we assumed he would regard my divorce as a fairly simple formality.
That was until his first quote weighed in at a whopping #7,000! When my partner expressed surprise she was given some fairly unconvincing excuses about things always being more complicated than they seem: days in courts, barristers fees, people who appear to be co-operative don t always turn out to be, etc. When my partner explained that for reasons of principle, among other things, I was unlikely to pay more than #500 for something to which I felt legally entitled, it was the solicitor s turn to splutter with indignation as he added that she could certainly stick a nought after that figure .
And so we left it, partly angry, partly frustrated and partly indifferent, since we didn t really need anybody s permission to have a happy, fulfilling relationship. We d heard of people who had managed to get their own divorce by following the correct procedure themselves, so we decided to explore that avenue.

I started by writing to my local court simply telling them I wanted a divorce and asking them what I should do. They advised me to contact the Government bookshop in Dublin. There I bought a booklet which explained the ramifications of the divorce bill and in great detail informed the reader about what was required in order to pursue a divorce.
Unfortunately, this document was written in such complicated legalese that I thought the No campaign was still in full swing. Forms at the back were printed so badly and in such a minuscule typeface that they were almost illegible. I could find no simple clarification as to whether I should fill in all the forms or just one.
While struggling with this farcical conundrum, we heard about a barrister who was offering to provide would-be divorcees with a set of instructions and the necessary paperwork, provided they did the running around themselves. I checked with my wife as to the viability of this approach. She was willing to go along with it provided I paid the full costs of #700, exactly one-tenth of what we d been quoted by our friendly neighbourhood solicitor!
On payment of half the fee the barrister gave me copies of five different documents and two pages of clear instructions as to what to do with each one and in what sequence each one. I began the process in early February of this year and was very promptly given 22nd April as the date for the divorce hearing in Court 30 in the Riverbank Courthouse, just across the Liffey from the Four Courts. Following the barrister s instructions to the letter I lodged x and got my wife to sign y and sent papers to z.
Immediately before the hearing I paid the barrister the second half of his fee. Since my wife was not objecting to the divorce, and had given the court a letter saying as much, I went to the court alone.
There were only three people in the court when my case was called: the judge, the registrar and the doorman. After I was sworn in, the judge ran through the basic details of my situation, asking me to confirm that these facts were true. He then routinely asked me if there was any possibility of a reconciliation. Given that my wife and I had separated over twenty years ago I could only answer in the negative. Without further discussion he then instructed the registrar to the effect that he was granting me a divorce under this act, that law etc. In all, the hearing took little more than two minutes.
And so I walked out of the court a single man. Naturally I felt slightly elated, not so much by newly found batchelorhood, as by a sense of achievement at having beaten the bastards. My minor elation did not prevent me from being slightly disconcerted to find I was much too early for my next meeting, so I retired to a nearby bar for a celebratory pint. I didn t check if it was a singles bar, but it felt like one to me.

There was one odd postscript, however. The court doesn t actually send either party confirmation of their decision. In order to confirm to my now ex-wife that the divorce had gone through, I had to return to the Family Law Court where they gave me a document which I had to take away and have typed out, then return it to them, so they could send it to somebody to sign it, so they could give it back to me and I could send a copy to my ex-wife. Which they did and he did and I did.
All things considered I was happy enough to pay the #700, but I couldn t help wondering why any couple wanting a divorce shouldn t be able to go to an office somewhere, produce their marriage certificate and letters or forms stating both want a divorce and simply get one! I m sure most couples would be prepared to pay a reasonable fee for that service. Say #25? n