it's all in the name

Before I was married, I was lumbered with one of those appalling surnames that was not only easy to ridicule, it was not pronounced the way it was spelt. Dad was quite anal about it being pronounced properly (there were occasional long tirades about Celtic pride, last of his line, Culloden etc). I really didn't care how anyone said it, as long as they weren't making hay with the "hogg" part of it, or calling me Fifi, I was happy.

All that aside, in those days, names were usually easy. Apart from the odd Sidebottom that had to (pretentiously) be pronounced Siddie-bot-tom (and was usually turned into something much more earthy), everyone had a name we could read and say properly.

But, it went even further than that. We could tell an awful lot from a name without even meeting the person.

For a start, in those days, names were gender specific. There were not names like Courtney that could be either. Even when there was a name that applied to both, it was spelled differently. Lesley for a man and Leslie or a woman, Frances for a girl and Francis for a boy. Other than Kim, you could read someone's name and know their anatomy.

You could tell lots of other stuff too. Age, ethnic origins, religion, class, even place of birth. It was not always reliable but there were some pretty good rules of thumb that worked most of the time.

Any woman named after a stone, a flower, a city or a virtue was someone's grandma. Violets and Florence were never young people. Brendans and Pauls (and any other saints name) were always catholic. People named after the royal family were CofE and dated from the birth or coronation of the name. (There were dozens of girls named Liz in my age group because of her enthronement.) People were inclined to stick to names with in their ethnic origins so a Patrick was not only catholic, he had Irish ancestors and an Edward had pommie forebears and was CofE. Kids with double-barrelled names or surnames (as given names) were usually Americans.

Fashions in names were also evident and assisted in classifying people. Kids named after film stars were usually from working class parents and born during the height of a star's career. Not many boys were named after actors because they had funny names like Rock, Duke and Clark and we all knew that these were not appropriate names for Aussie kids.

We knew the rules and we stuck to them. Surnames and given names were never confused. Names were always spelt the same way. Ethnic lines were never crossed.

Then came the hippie era.

Oh boy.

Suddenly all the rules changed. Not just for the hippies, but for everyone.

Kids started to be saddled with names like Sunshine. No gender. No religion. No ethnic origins.

Then even the "normal" people went berserk. Names were dug up from eons past or strange ethnic groups.Surnames became given names and parents crossed all sorts of religious and ethnic barriers. Everyone wanted to be different and exotic.

Of course, it didn't really work very well. A name that was outlandish when we first heard it became commonplace when it was given to every third kid. No-one had ever heard the name Kylie and Jason had been dug up from antiquity. Now there were a couple in every kindergarten class.

So, names were made up or spelt creatively or random word adopted from other cultures. Names were snaffled from comic books and fantasy and popular novels. There were no holes barred.

As a result, kids got tortured with some appalling names. (Zowie Bowie and River Phoenix spring immediately to mind.)

In my extended family there are some classic examples. We have an OrangeMoon, a Raku and an Eiler amongst my kids cousins. My sister used a Greek name for her daughter and her stepkids all have exotic names too.

My kids, on the other hand, have very ordinary names. They all reflect our British heritage and are spelled the"right" way. They are all gender specific.

When my kids have discussed names that they intend to use for their own offspring, the same can be said.

The tide has turned somewhat in the name game (as tides are wont to do). There are still the odd smattering of exotica but most kids now have a more classic name. (Interestingly, Jack is both the most popular baby boy's name in our state AND the most popular dog's name!)

Which would all go to prove my point. If I had one. Which I don't.

I was reading gossip columns in the paper this morning and a mention of a kid called Zuma (poor kid) got me thinking.

I thought I'd share.

I'll go away now.

He's a little odd

Most men get up in the morning and chew the whiskers off their face with some sort of electrical device. A Ronson or a Philishave that well meaning wives have given them for Christmas.

A few old-fashioned blokes will squirt some foam out of a can and scrape away with a twin or triple bladed Gillette.

In the evenings, most men watch some sport or news on TV. They might read a book or get the laptop out to do some strange work-related things. Perhaps they will play Spider on the PC or even talk to their wives.

It is after midnight.

What is my husband doing?

He is melting cakes of shaving soap in the top of my double boiler so that they can be poured into his hand-crafted teak shaving soap bowl.

*sigh*

My husband is not most men.

thoughts of John Bertram (and other stuff)

Last night we were trying to work out when Australia won the America's Cup (as you do). We could have got off our arses and gone and looked it up.

We didn't.

We spent about a quarter of an hour working it out. First we tried to remember where we were living at the time (NSW wheatbelt). Then we worked out how many kids we had (3) and how old they were (4, 2 and a wee babe). We knew where we lived because we listened to the final race in bed in the front room of that house and we knew we didn't have the fourth because the girls moved into that room before the youngest was born. And the second daughter was still in the cot in our room so she was still having night feeds.

So, it had to be the second half of 1983.

Then we tried to narrow it down even more.

Hmmm

Max could remember that the racing was all over before his annual shutdown in the first week in October (it was the main topic of conversation in the cribroom during breaks) and I could remember having the telly on during dinner on my birhday (telly during dinner is an absolute no-no in our house so it was kind of significant) to listen to the weather for NY.

We ended up with a date of 25th September, 1983.

We were out by one day.

Then I began to wonder. Do other people work out dates that way? The whole "where were you when you heard about Kennedy?" theory.

Our first calculations are always based on where we were living followed by how many kids and how old. It is a pretty accurate method for the early years of our marriage. It gets less reliable as we get closer to present time. We have to rely more on where the kids were living and who their partners were. Much fuzzier dates in our mental calendars.

Are we alone in this obscure method?

---

And, now, a brief update.

I haven't killed my Mum yet. Tempting but I've been brave and strong (although, I have wondered if the flare up in my eye problems has got less to do with my crappy body and more to do with the fact that I spend a lot of time rolling my eyes behind her back).

She's a pushy old thing and VERY set in her ways. When she decides she wants something, she wants it NOW and she wants it HER WAY. They are usually small things and not worth making a fuss about but they niggle.

The main thing I miss is alone time. She is (mostly) not too intrusive. She is just there. All the time. It's a bit like that single blowfly that just hangs around and annoys you but not enough to get up and find the swat.

It isn't a huge problem and will (I hope) become less with time.

My beautiful granddaughter has left us for warmer climes. Her dad took a job in Brisbane and they all moved over there a month ago. I have missed her first time sitting up, her first crawl and her first word (all in the same week at just 5 months). I miss her like all hell. I can see the frequent fliers building up rapidly.

There will be more than one reason for those points accumulating. We have the first ultrasound of the new grandchild and a due date of June 4th. Hopefully, the babe will wait until after the wedding on May 30 so I can fly up to Townsville and be there for the birth. If not, bugger! I can't be in two places at once but I wish I could.

Family-wise, there isn't much other news. Bron and Jads are in the final stages of packing up for their move to WA. They are driving across (with the Harley on a trailer because the boy doesn't trust the Army to move it carefully enough). They are coming via Brizzy to meet the Alice and should get here a week before Christmas. I'm busting.

Health-wise, I'm in a flare-up stage of my eye problems. I got some quite significant side effects from the steroids (post menopausal bleeding and raging hypertension) so they had to be stopped. I am waiting on some enzyme level results so a decision can be made about the next course of treatment. It looks like either radiation or immuno-suppressants or a combination of both. Max is doing all the research and I'm just letting fate (and MDs) set the course.

And that (as they say) is that. I shall sign off with some grandchild pics (because she is, after all, the most photogenic grandbaby ever).

Didn't I tell you she was gorgeous!!