Having considered the matter for eight months (25th February), I finally get round to joining my local leisure centre. In my hand is a bunch of Halloween berries.
'Are they for me?' asks the girl standing behind the counter. She is tall and thin. Her long, braided hair is tied in a ponytail. On her black dress is a small stain, possibly yogurt. I say she can have them if she wants. 'Only joking', she says. I fill out a form.
'You've got the same birthday as my mum', she tells me as she inputs my information to the computer. She is helped by a man in a light-blue polo-shirt whose size belies his place of work.
With the transaction complete, I explain my resolution. She seems perturbed. 'What's your middle name then?', prompts her colleague. She tells him. I ask what it means. 'Is it something to do with queens?' I suggest. She gives me a look of suspicion and shrugs silently. 'I'm sorry', I say making a rapid exit. 'But thank you very much'.
She waves goodbye with her fingers.
Wednesday 31 October 2012
Tuesday 30 October 2012
Ferdinand
Buying a cup of chicken soup and a latte from a multinational lunchtime eatery, I notice that my server's badge merely says 'TRAINEE'.
'You don't have a name', I say. 'No', he replies. 'I'm still waiting for one'. He has floppy hair and an enthusiastic attitude.
I decide to counter his corporate anonymity by asking my question. He pauses to froth the milk before giving me an answer. I ask if it is from The Tempest. 'No', he replies, 'It's after the bull'. I remember reading about the sensitive bull who would rather smell flowers than compete in bullfights. 'From the children's story', he confirms.
'You don't have a name', I say. 'No', he replies. 'I'm still waiting for one'. He has floppy hair and an enthusiastic attitude.
I decide to counter his corporate anonymity by asking my question. He pauses to froth the milk before giving me an answer. I ask if it is from The Tempest. 'No', he replies, 'It's after the bull'. I remember reading about the sensitive bull who would rather smell flowers than compete in bullfights. 'From the children's story', he confirms.
Monday 29 October 2012
Simone, Beulah and Mary
At the adjacent table in the cafe of Marks and Spencer, sit three elderly ladies with three pairs of spectacles of different shapes and sizes. They discuss flu jabs and coo over a baby in a pram. They are drinking tea from teapots.
Apologising for my interruption, I explain my odd request. 'Do you want to know mine?' says the smallest of the three with short grey hair. She tells me that her mother was Swiss-French. The tallest, and most imposing of the group, offers hers as well. Her companions are impressed. 'I think it's mentioned in the bible somewhere', she says. The third, whose hair is curly and defiantly brown, waits to be asked. She is dismissive of her own. 'Are you doing some kind of project?', she asks. I explain the inexact premise of my eccentricity. 'Well, I think that's lovely', she says.
I say thank you and leave them to their afternoon gathering.
(Beulah is a Hebrew word from the book of Isaiah relating to a prophesied attribute of the land of Israel. It is also used to describe the place between heaven and earth in the works of John Bunyan and William Blake. I don't know whether her first and last names complete the trinity.)
Apologising for my interruption, I explain my odd request. 'Do you want to know mine?' says the smallest of the three with short grey hair. She tells me that her mother was Swiss-French. The tallest, and most imposing of the group, offers hers as well. Her companions are impressed. 'I think it's mentioned in the bible somewhere', she says. The third, whose hair is curly and defiantly brown, waits to be asked. She is dismissive of her own. 'Are you doing some kind of project?', she asks. I explain the inexact premise of my eccentricity. 'Well, I think that's lovely', she says.
I say thank you and leave them to their afternoon gathering.
(Beulah is a Hebrew word from the book of Isaiah relating to a prophesied attribute of the land of Israel. It is also used to describe the place between heaven and earth in the works of John Bunyan and William Blake. I don't know whether her first and last names complete the trinity.)
Sunday 28 October 2012
Jerzy
Crossing the road in the rain, I see two men smoking cigarettes outside a pub. One is bald the other is not. Someone approaches and asks them for money. They oblige. Witnessing their amenability, I decide to make my own request.
'What does this mean?' asks the one without any hair. He is wearing a jumper with a zipped neck. I explain myself. He gives me an answer. He is from Poland. I tell him that his help is much appreciated. 'No. No problem', he says giving me a thumbs up as I depart. 'You're cool man'.
'What does this mean?' asks the one without any hair. He is wearing a jumper with a zipped neck. I explain myself. He gives me an answer. He is from Poland. I tell him that his help is much appreciated. 'No. No problem', he says giving me a thumbs up as I depart. 'You're cool man'.
Saturday 27 October 2012
Ralf
A man is tying his bicycle to a post on the pavement. On the front is attached a shopping basket. He is wearing a large woollen scarf that envelops the lower part of his face. I approach to ask my question. He grins, seemingly pleased to be asked. 'Yes', he says. 'I have a middle name'. On his nose are perched a small pair wire-rimmed spectacles.
I have to ask him to spell it before I can decipher his accent. He is from Germany. He puts out his hand to shake mine. I wish him a good evening and leave him to his D-lock.
I have to ask him to spell it before I can decipher his accent. He is from Germany. He puts out his hand to shake mine. I wish him a good evening and leave him to his D-lock.
Friday 26 October 2012
Aemilia
Standing in a pub in a tube station with three other people, we are approached by a a young woman. 'Do you want tickets to see Dara O'Brien?' she asks. She is wearing thick black glasses and her coat has a fur-trimmed hood. 'I've got four'. She takes out the tickets and shows them to us. 'They're free'.
For a moment, we consider. 'Only if you want', she says. 'You don't have to'. We decide against but thank her anyway and I ask her middle name. She is unfazed and gives me an answer.
For a moment, we consider. 'Only if you want', she says. 'You don't have to'. We decide against but thank her anyway and I ask her middle name. She is unfazed and gives me an answer.
Thursday 25 October 2012
Ann
The nineteen year-old German model who has come to stay in my spare room is wearing an 'I heart London' hoodie. She tells me that, three years ago, she came sixth in 'Germany's Next Top Model'. She has done a lot of work in South Africa but doesn't have a middle name.
Instead, I look up the most famous supermodel of my youth. Famous for swimsuits, a well-placed mole and a Buddhist ex-husband who may or may not have had a penchant for gerbils, her middle name is disappointingly mundane (and the most common of this project).
Her first name used to be Cynthia.
Instead, I look up the most famous supermodel of my youth. Famous for swimsuits, a well-placed mole and a Buddhist ex-husband who may or may not have had a penchant for gerbils, her middle name is disappointingly mundane (and the most common of this project).
Her first name used to be Cynthia.
Wednesday 24 October 2012
Jane
Following an emergency call to '999', I find myself attaching a fire-alarm to my ceiling whilst standing on a high stool footed by a firefighter. Her jacket has 'FIRE' emblazoned across the back in fluorescent yellow. The sirens have stopped.
She chuckles in response to my question.
'I've never been asked that before in this situation', she says.
She chuckles in response to my question.
'I've never been asked that before in this situation', she says.
Tuesday 23 October 2012
Julia
A young woman is sitting in the stairs outside her flat listening to an i-pad. She is wearing a hoodie. As I pass she takes a white earphone from her left ear and asks if I have a light. I tell her that I don't but seize the opportunity to ask my question.
She shakes her head in lack of comprehension. I attempt a mime. 'Ah', she says. 'You mean when it's like James Victoria Something'. It seems as though she has the idea. 'I think that is Julia', she says. I mumble something about her not being sure but realise that I am wading into choppy language waters. Instead, I ask where she is from. 'Italy', she says.
She shakes her head in lack of comprehension. I attempt a mime. 'Ah', she says. 'You mean when it's like James Victoria Something'. It seems as though she has the idea. 'I think that is Julia', she says. I mumble something about her not being sure but realise that I am wading into choppy language waters. Instead, I ask where she is from. 'Italy', she says.
Monday 22 October 2012
Okujagu
Walking towards me are two black men. One is tall and the other is short. It is getting late so I stop them to ask for a middle name. They look suspicious. The tall one shakes his head. 'You don't have one?' I say. I look towards the other. He also shakes his head. I get the feeling they don't like me.
'I might have one', says the tall one in a quiet voice. 'But I don't think you'd understand it'. I ask him to try me. He does. I repeat it. He smiles broadly. 'It means by the grace of God', he tells me. 'It's Nigerian'.
I thank him for his help. I feel that we have made friends. He puts out his hand to cement the deal.
'I might have one', says the tall one in a quiet voice. 'But I don't think you'd understand it'. I ask him to try me. He does. I repeat it. He smiles broadly. 'It means by the grace of God', he tells me. 'It's Nigerian'.
I thank him for his help. I feel that we have made friends. He puts out his hand to cement the deal.
Sunday 21 October 2012
Keith
Walking towards me on the street is a stocky man with short hair. He smiles as he approaches. I stop to ask him my question. He is holding a cigarette in front of his chest. He is very pleased to be asked. He is Australian.
He says that he only arrived a day ago but is already over the jet-lag. It's like 'chasing the back tail of a rocking horse', he says. He grins. I nod and ask him how he is finding London. 'Mad as a cut snake', he replies. 'I love it'. He is very keen. He tells us that he is a funeral director back home so this is a good break for him. He asks me and my friend where we are from. We tell him that we are Londoners. He is pleased to meet us.
As we are leaving he tells me I look like that 'spiderman fellow'. My friend suggests that he means Tobey Maguire, which seems to be correct.
He says that he only arrived a day ago but is already over the jet-lag. It's like 'chasing the back tail of a rocking horse', he says. He grins. I nod and ask him how he is finding London. 'Mad as a cut snake', he replies. 'I love it'. He is very keen. He tells us that he is a funeral director back home so this is a good break for him. He asks me and my friend where we are from. We tell him that we are Londoners. He is pleased to meet us.
As we are leaving he tells me I look like that 'spiderman fellow'. My friend suggests that he means Tobey Maguire, which seems to be correct.
Saturday 20 October 2012
Astarte Inanna Hathor Mylitta Ishtar
In a panic, I ask the time to find that the midnight hour has passed without a middle name. Disappointed, and with only myself to blame, I despair.
Then, in a moment of inspiration, I remember flicking through a poetry book on the bus. One of the poems was about the goddess of love. I remember a list of names. I decide that has to be my answer.
Though not strictly 'middle', the poet lists the many different names of the deity of fertility, sexuality and war. In the order they appear above, the names are Greek, Sumerian, Egyptian, Babylonian and Assyrian. My Latin teacher used to call her 'Aphrodite with the see-through nightie'.
Then, in a moment of inspiration, I remember flicking through a poetry book on the bus. One of the poems was about the goddess of love. I remember a list of names. I decide that has to be my answer.
Though not strictly 'middle', the poet lists the many different names of the deity of fertility, sexuality and war. In the order they appear above, the names are Greek, Sumerian, Egyptian, Babylonian and Assyrian. My Latin teacher used to call her 'Aphrodite with the see-through nightie'.
Friday 19 October 2012
Donova
Leaving the pub, a friend offers to do my dirty work. She taps a young man on the shoulder. He doesn't have one. 'Do any of you have middle names?' she asks the two girls that accompany him. One pipes up with an answer. She is small with glossy hair and make-up.
'That was horrible', says my friend as we exit onto the pavement. 'I don't know how you do it everyday'. 'Neither do I', I reply.
'That was horrible', says my friend as we exit onto the pavement. 'I don't know how you do it everyday'. 'Neither do I', I reply.
Thursday 18 October 2012
Stephen
Leaning against the ticket machine at the station is a tube worker looking listless. It is late and I'm on my way home. I approach to ask my question. He calmly smiles.
'Middle name?' he says. He has a shaved head and a prematurely grey goatee. He looks away. His hands are in his pockets. 'I don't know about that'. I suggest that perhaps he doesn't have one. 'Nah', he says. He looks back and gives me an answer. I ask if it is with a 'v' or a 'ph'. 'PH', he says.
I thank him for his help and hold out my hand in gratitude. Still leaning, he takes a hand out of his pocket and shakes. 'That's alright', he says.
'Middle name?' he says. He has a shaved head and a prematurely grey goatee. He looks away. His hands are in his pockets. 'I don't know about that'. I suggest that perhaps he doesn't have one. 'Nah', he says. He looks back and gives me an answer. I ask if it is with a 'v' or a 'ph'. 'PH', he says.
I thank him for his help and hold out my hand in gratitude. Still leaning, he takes a hand out of his pocket and shakes. 'That's alright', he says.
Wednesday 17 October 2012
Graham
Downstairs in a coffee shop and the seat opposite me is free until a man asks if he can sit in it. He is portly and wearing a dark suit jacket, white shirt and jeans. I say that he can. 'They're just so comfy', he says, settling in to scribble on a spiral notepad.
'Young man', he says half-an-hour later, 'do you have an i-phone charger?' I tell him that I don't. 'I'm running out of juice', he explains. I take the opportunity to ask my question.
He sits forward and extends a hand to introduce himself. I shake it. 'I think that's great', he says. He tells me that he is the fourth in his family to be given the combination of his first and middle name. 'It originated in the hills of Scotland', he says. Sometimes he adds an 'IV'.
He currently sells air-conditioning for a living but also has a vested interest in wind turbines. On his phone he shows me the design for a new, compact model that can power a vehicle. 'We want to get the in Tesco car-parks', he says. I nod.
I thank him for his help and we sit back into our respective arm-chairs.
'Young man', he says half-an-hour later, 'do you have an i-phone charger?' I tell him that I don't. 'I'm running out of juice', he explains. I take the opportunity to ask my question.
He sits forward and extends a hand to introduce himself. I shake it. 'I think that's great', he says. He tells me that he is the fourth in his family to be given the combination of his first and middle name. 'It originated in the hills of Scotland', he says. Sometimes he adds an 'IV'.
He currently sells air-conditioning for a living but also has a vested interest in wind turbines. On his phone he shows me the design for a new, compact model that can power a vehicle. 'We want to get the in Tesco car-parks', he says. I nod.
I thank him for his help and we sit back into our respective arm-chairs.
Tuesday 16 October 2012
Wemyss
Three boys at a table look too young to be in the pub. They have fresh faces and moppish hair. On the back of their chairs are hanging Barbour-style jackets. I approach to ask my question. They are bright-eyed and seem keen. 'My one's the best one', says the boy sitting furthest from me. His hair is dark and forms a floppy fringe. He is wearing a patterned woollen jumper. I have to ask him to spell it for me twice. I leave them to their fun.
Monday 15 October 2012
Margaret
In a department store, an elderly lady asks me the price of a high-hanging handbag. It is small and beige and is made from the skin of a faux-reptile. It has been reduced from forty-nine pounds to nineteen pounds and ninety pence. She is grateful for my help. I ask for a middle name in return.
She chuckles. She is wearing a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. On her feet are a pair of well-worn red loafers. Her hair is white and curly. She tells me her 'second name'. I thank her for her help. She smiles broadly and turns back to consider her possible purchase.
She chuckles. She is wearing a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. On her feet are a pair of well-worn red loafers. Her hair is white and curly. She tells me her 'second name'. I thank her for her help. She smiles broadly and turns back to consider her possible purchase.
Sunday 14 October 2012
Charles Joseph
Birthday drinks and all the girls round the table have statement hair. A man with a bald head and a beard is in full tiger make-up. Later, it is explained, he is going to a fancy-dress party.
We are introduced and I compliment him on his look. He asks if I want to know his middle or confirmation name. 'Both', I suggest.
I ask how confirmation names work. He tells me that, when you are confirmed, you get your pick of the names of the saints to add to your own. I ask what St Joseph did. 'I don't go in for any of that stuff now', he replies.
(St Joseph was, of course, the husband of the Virgin Mary. As well as bringing up the saviour of mankind for an absentee father, he was a carpenter. Beatified by Pope Pius IX in 1870, he was, according to Wikipedia, 'the unofficial patron against doubt and hesitation, as well as the patron saint of fighting communism, and of a happy death'. A lot of responsibility.)
We are introduced and I compliment him on his look. He asks if I want to know his middle or confirmation name. 'Both', I suggest.
I ask how confirmation names work. He tells me that, when you are confirmed, you get your pick of the names of the saints to add to your own. I ask what St Joseph did. 'I don't go in for any of that stuff now', he replies.
(St Joseph was, of course, the husband of the Virgin Mary. As well as bringing up the saviour of mankind for an absentee father, he was a carpenter. Beatified by Pope Pius IX in 1870, he was, according to Wikipedia, 'the unofficial patron against doubt and hesitation, as well as the patron saint of fighting communism, and of a happy death'. A lot of responsibility.)
Saturday 13 October 2012
Elizabeth Joy
Eating an omelette in the autumnal sunshine, the changeable British weather decides to change. There is no space inside so the waiter brings out a large golfing umbrella under which we can shelter ourselves and our lunch. He doesn't have another one for the couple sitting at the adjacent table with lattes. I offer a poor substitute from my bag (it is small, broken and patterned with strawberries). They accept with gratitude.
As the rain pours down around us I take the opportunity. The man points to his partner. 'She's got two', he tells me. 'That's two-in-one'. She gives me two answers.
As the rain pours down around us I take the opportunity. The man points to his partner. 'She's got two', he tells me. 'That's two-in-one'. She gives me two answers.
Friday 12 October 2012
Virginie
In a French cafe, the waitress is, appropriately, French. While paying for my bowl of hot chocolate I explain my resolution. 'You want to know my middle name?' she asks. She is very tall and slightly stooped. On her left forearm is a tattoo that looks as though it spells 'Elvis' in Greek letters. 'Yes please', I reply. She comes from Brittany.
Thursday 11 October 2012
Tantademus and Sir Alfred Coca Cola
Drifting in and out of sleep, I find myself in my parents' front drive. Three boys are playing hide-and-seek. The youngest of the three runs off. The two oldest are left dawdling. I am not sure what they are doing there. They have blonde hair and round faces and are about 14 years old. They are wearing brown woolen tank-tops and shorts. They are twins.
My sub-conscious decides to take the opportunity to ask and answer my question.
(Tantademus, one of the twins tells me, is the name of a famous mountaineer. On waking, Google fails to confirm this.)
My sub-conscious decides to take the opportunity to ask and answer my question.
(Tantademus, one of the twins tells me, is the name of a famous mountaineer. On waking, Google fails to confirm this.)
Wednesday 10 October 2012
Holy, Harold or Haploid
Reading about the reputed saviour of mankind, it occurs to me that, whilst I am familiar with much of his work, I have never researched his middle name. A quick search reveals that the Israelites did not go in for them. But that leaves unexplained the mystery of the initial 'H' that sometimes, at moments at exasperation, appears between his 'J' and his 'C'.
The rogue initial has been around for around two centuries (Mark Twain recalls a childhood prank involving it from around 1850) and nobody is quite sure of its origin. The first suggestion is the shortening of an old Southern American oath. The second a joke surrounding a common mispronunciation of the Lord's prayer ('hallowed be thy name'). The third is the term used when a cell has only one set of chromosomes. A favourite explanation of biologists, it has never been clear whether God's paternity involved a full set of DNA.
Most likely, the initial comes from the monogram for his name is Greek which is IHS. In fact the 'H' stood for the letter 'eta' but, what with the Romans and the course of history, things get a bit confused.
The rogue initial has been around for around two centuries (Mark Twain recalls a childhood prank involving it from around 1850) and nobody is quite sure of its origin. The first suggestion is the shortening of an old Southern American oath. The second a joke surrounding a common mispronunciation of the Lord's prayer ('hallowed be thy name'). The third is the term used when a cell has only one set of chromosomes. A favourite explanation of biologists, it has never been clear whether God's paternity involved a full set of DNA.
Most likely, the initial comes from the monogram for his name is Greek which is IHS. In fact the 'H' stood for the letter 'eta' but, what with the Romans and the course of history, things get a bit confused.
Tuesday 9 October 2012
Patrick
A plumber comes to switch my cold water supply from tank feed to the mains. His hair has a hint of ginger and he is wearing a boiler suit. He is Irish but now lives locally. We discuss the new supermarket, property prices around the area and the North London/South London divide. He tells me I should put sealant round the bathtub asap.
Job done, I ask my question. 'Whaat!?' he replies (the punctuation is pronounced). 'That is weird'. He wants to know how I've done it. I explain that it has involved approaching quite a lot of strangers. 'That is hard, man', he says. Then he gives me an answer.
Job done, I ask my question. 'Whaat!?' he replies (the punctuation is pronounced). 'That is weird'. He wants to know how I've done it. I explain that it has involved approaching quite a lot of strangers. 'That is hard, man', he says. Then he gives me an answer.
Monday 8 October 2012
Ailsa
In a newly-opened multinational supermarket I buy bananas, kiwi fruit and milk. The lady behind the check-out seems approachable and asks nicely if I have a clubcard but, to my question, she laughs and claims not to have one.
Instead I turn to the girl behind me. She has long dark hair and a basket full of groceries. I explain myself. 'Aah', she says. 'That's nice'. She gives me an answer.
'As in Home and Away?' I ask. 'As in the Scottish island', she replies. I ask if she is Scottish. 'No', she says, 'but my mum obviously liked the name and she just stole it'.
Instead I turn to the girl behind me. She has long dark hair and a basket full of groceries. I explain myself. 'Aah', she says. 'That's nice'. She gives me an answer.
'As in Home and Away?' I ask. 'As in the Scottish island', she replies. I ask if she is Scottish. 'No', she says, 'but my mum obviously liked the name and she just stole it'.
Sunday 7 October 2012
Olufemi
'I'm just laughing at something funny that I have remembered', says the woman behind the kiosk where I am buying a stick of chewing gum. She has braided hair and cannot stop chuckling. On her platform she stands at least half a metre taller than me.
I explain my resolution. Between giggles she gives me an answer. 'It means God has given me', she says.
I explain my resolution. Between giggles she gives me an answer. 'It means God has given me', she says.
Saturday 6 October 2012
Kuldip Singh
'Do I look sartorial?' says the man in the bookshop. He has voluminous white hair and gestures towards a moth-eaten cardigan. He doesn't have an opinion about the book I am buying as a present about Coco Chanel. Nor does he have a middle name.
Instead, at the party for which the present was bought, I ask the husband of a friend of the birthday girl who, we find out, was two years below me at school. We don't remember each other. He is now a musician and owns four cats. We talk of red blazers, Mr Beard and the peculiarity of a single-sex education.
Instead, at the party for which the present was bought, I ask the husband of a friend of the birthday girl who, we find out, was two years below me at school. We don't remember each other. He is now a musician and owns four cats. We talk of red blazers, Mr Beard and the peculiarity of a single-sex education.
Friday 5 October 2012
Joy
In a cafe that serves chips double-fried in dripping, I notice the actress who made me laugh on Saturday 7th July. On the way out, I pause to tell her how much I like her work. I don't tell her I know her middle name.
Later, at a birthday supper, I meet a cellist with curly hair. Her maiden name was Payne which means that her parents were making good use of oxymoron.
Later, at a birthday supper, I meet a cellist with curly hair. Her maiden name was Payne which means that her parents were making good use of oxymoron.
Thursday 4 October 2012
Bridget
A man is playing Elvis Presley Songs as I enjoy the sunshine by the river. A few metres away, underneath the bright blue sky, two middle-aged women are jiving.
As I get up to leave I approach to tell them how much I appreciated their dance. One has vibrantly dark hair and a tailored jacket. The other's hair is slightly disheveled and she has on a soft jumper. They tell me that they were brought up nearby. They are sisters.
Visiting from Paris, the dark-haired sister explains that they have come on a day-trip to visit the place where the other sister (with the soft jumper) met her husband forty-five years ago. A white-haired man with a walking stick ambles over. 'Have you told him why we're here?' he asks. They say that it is reminiscent except that, then, there was a mist.
I take the opportunity to ask my question. 'Oh, you're going to love mine', says the dark-haired sister. 'You're going to love hers', repeats the other. 'What's that film?' says the first. 'The Romance. With that actor'. I have to admit that I am none-the-wiser. 'English', she says. 'All the girls swoon over him'. I'm still finding it hard to guess. 'Got caught with his pants down'. 'Hugh Grant?' I suggest. I am right. She continues, 'The girl he's with in that film'. The white-haired gentleman pipes up. 'Andie MacDowell', is his idea. 'No. She's got body issues', she says indicating size. I suggest the famous diarist of the late 1990s. 'That's it', she says. we are all pleased.
'Her first name's Mary', says the other sister with the soft jumper. 'So in Paris they call her Marie-Brigitte'.
We talk of Paris, the markets and the cobbled street on which I used to live but I need to get going and thank them for their help. 'No. Thank you for coming over', the visiting sister replies.
As I get up to leave I approach to tell them how much I appreciated their dance. One has vibrantly dark hair and a tailored jacket. The other's hair is slightly disheveled and she has on a soft jumper. They tell me that they were brought up nearby. They are sisters.
Visiting from Paris, the dark-haired sister explains that they have come on a day-trip to visit the place where the other sister (with the soft jumper) met her husband forty-five years ago. A white-haired man with a walking stick ambles over. 'Have you told him why we're here?' he asks. They say that it is reminiscent except that, then, there was a mist.
I take the opportunity to ask my question. 'Oh, you're going to love mine', says the dark-haired sister. 'You're going to love hers', repeats the other. 'What's that film?' says the first. 'The Romance. With that actor'. I have to admit that I am none-the-wiser. 'English', she says. 'All the girls swoon over him'. I'm still finding it hard to guess. 'Got caught with his pants down'. 'Hugh Grant?' I suggest. I am right. She continues, 'The girl he's with in that film'. The white-haired gentleman pipes up. 'Andie MacDowell', is his idea. 'No. She's got body issues', she says indicating size. I suggest the famous diarist of the late 1990s. 'That's it', she says. we are all pleased.
'Her first name's Mary', says the other sister with the soft jumper. 'So in Paris they call her Marie-Brigitte'.
We talk of Paris, the markets and the cobbled street on which I used to live but I need to get going and thank them for their help. 'No. Thank you for coming over', the visiting sister replies.
Wednesday 3 October 2012
Angela
The two Koreans who ask me for directions to Harrods don't have middle names.
Instead, in a less salubrious part of town on the way home, I ask a woman sitting on a bench outside a pub. She is smoking a roll-up. 'Sorry', she says in an eastern-European accent. 'You help me... Resolution?' Her hair is long and blonde-ish. She is wearing a long multi-coloured woolen coat. When she brings the cigarette to her mouth I notice her nails are painted sky blue. I explain myself again. She gives me an answer.
'It's from Serbia', she says. 'But...' She shrugs and puts out her hand. 'What's your name?' she asks. I shake it. 'I'm Richard', I say. 'No. Your middle name', she says. I tell her. 'That's nice', she says making a gesture of space. 'It's expansive'.
At the other end of the bench sits a man with a flat cap, thick glasses and bright yellow trainers. I have interrupted their conversation. 'Thank you', I say. 'Sorry for the interruption'. Her roll-up has gone out. 'No, no', she says looking for her lighter. 'It's a pleasure'.
Instead, in a less salubrious part of town on the way home, I ask a woman sitting on a bench outside a pub. She is smoking a roll-up. 'Sorry', she says in an eastern-European accent. 'You help me... Resolution?' Her hair is long and blonde-ish. She is wearing a long multi-coloured woolen coat. When she brings the cigarette to her mouth I notice her nails are painted sky blue. I explain myself again. She gives me an answer.
'It's from Serbia', she says. 'But...' She shrugs and puts out her hand. 'What's your name?' she asks. I shake it. 'I'm Richard', I say. 'No. Your middle name', she says. I tell her. 'That's nice', she says making a gesture of space. 'It's expansive'.
At the other end of the bench sits a man with a flat cap, thick glasses and bright yellow trainers. I have interrupted their conversation. 'Thank you', I say. 'Sorry for the interruption'. Her roll-up has gone out. 'No, no', she says looking for her lighter. 'It's a pleasure'.
Tuesday 2 October 2012
Amma Korkor
'I thought I recognised your face', says the check-out assistant in my local supermarket. I asked if she remembered refusing me a middle name twice in February (1st February, 10th February). Her hair is now a short, tight afro. I decide to try again.
'Why do you want to know anyway?' she asks smiling. I explain. 'What's yours?' she asks. I tell her. 'Mine's African', she says. I can feel her weakening. She tells me the second part first. 'It means the second-born girl', she says and spells it out for me. 'The other one's easier for you', she says. 'It means born on a Saturday'. I tell her that she has a colleague with the same middle name (Amma).
'A man born on a Saturday is called Kwame', she tells me. I ask if there is a name for each day of the week. She says there is. 'Kofi, like Kofi Annan, means born on a Friday', she says. 'I can tell you them all'. But my transaction has gone through. 'Next time you come in', she says. I wish her a good afternoon. 'See you soon', she says.
(Wikipedia tells me that most Ghanaians have at least one name that is based on the day of the week that they were born. The characteristics of Saturday's child are that they 'like to take control of family situations. He/she runs the show and make the rules, but will go out of his/her way for others any time'. I was born on a Tuesday. Somewhat unexcitingly my characteristics are as 'the problem solver and planner of the family ... structured in nature, neutral in all matters and never takes sides'.)
'Why do you want to know anyway?' she asks smiling. I explain. 'What's yours?' she asks. I tell her. 'Mine's African', she says. I can feel her weakening. She tells me the second part first. 'It means the second-born girl', she says and spells it out for me. 'The other one's easier for you', she says. 'It means born on a Saturday'. I tell her that she has a colleague with the same middle name (Amma).
'A man born on a Saturday is called Kwame', she tells me. I ask if there is a name for each day of the week. She says there is. 'Kofi, like Kofi Annan, means born on a Friday', she says. 'I can tell you them all'. But my transaction has gone through. 'Next time you come in', she says. I wish her a good afternoon. 'See you soon', she says.
(Wikipedia tells me that most Ghanaians have at least one name that is based on the day of the week that they were born. The characteristics of Saturday's child are that they 'like to take control of family situations. He/she runs the show and make the rules, but will go out of his/her way for others any time'. I was born on a Tuesday. Somewhat unexcitingly my characteristics are as 'the problem solver and planner of the family ... structured in nature, neutral in all matters and never takes sides'.)
Monday 1 October 2012
Peyote Opi Merlin
Heading towards a spare seat at the back of a double-decker bus, I hesitate. The back row is occupied by two young men with closely-shaved hair. Between them sits a large black-and-white dog with a snub nose. Its genitalia are proudly on display. It is breathing loudly. 'I wouldn't sit there if I were you', says the younger of the two. The other is slumped against the window, apparently asleep, with his eyes closed. 'Oh', I say and begin to turn around. 'Jokes', says the man. 'Go ahead'. I look at the dog. It looks at me. 'Don't make it weird', he says. I sit down.
'What's he called?' I ask. The younger man points at the one against the window. 'Ask 'im', he says. Without moving, he opens his eyes. 'Woof', he says. 'Oh right', I say.
The younger man takes a loud phone call. His conversation involves the police, phone numbers and someone called 'Angel'. The dog's breath smells.
'That's what happens if you like girls', he tells me after he has hung up. 'You get yourself into trouble'. I decide to ask my question. He laughs. 'Fuckin' crazy maniac bastard solid real...' he begins. The slumped man opens his eyes again, his interest piqued. He gives me his.
'It's the nickname for a hallucinogenic cactus', he says. 'My parents were hippies'. He gestures towards the dog. 'It's his name too', he says. 'I like it so I called him it'. He tells me all three of his middle names. 'Where's Opi from?' I ask. He smiles. 'Opium', he says. He tells me his sister's middle name is Astra Cloudberry. I am suitably impressed. The younger man interrupts. 'I don't have one', he says. 'You parents weren't hippies?' I ask. 'We're brothers', says the man still slumped against the window. 'But the man she was with when she had him weren't into that sort of stuff'. The younger man kisses the dog. 'My name's Bob', he says.
They try to guess my middle name. 'Sid', the younger one suggests, 'as in C.I.D.'. 'Gap', suggests the other. I look confused. The younger explains, 'Gay and proud'. I give them the answer. The younger one repeats it out loud. 'It's alright that is', he says.
It's my stop so I get up to leave. 'Nice to meet you', I say. The slumped man nods his head. 'You take care now', says the other.
'What's he called?' I ask. The younger man points at the one against the window. 'Ask 'im', he says. Without moving, he opens his eyes. 'Woof', he says. 'Oh right', I say.
The younger man takes a loud phone call. His conversation involves the police, phone numbers and someone called 'Angel'. The dog's breath smells.
'That's what happens if you like girls', he tells me after he has hung up. 'You get yourself into trouble'. I decide to ask my question. He laughs. 'Fuckin' crazy maniac bastard solid real...' he begins. The slumped man opens his eyes again, his interest piqued. He gives me his.
'It's the nickname for a hallucinogenic cactus', he says. 'My parents were hippies'. He gestures towards the dog. 'It's his name too', he says. 'I like it so I called him it'. He tells me all three of his middle names. 'Where's Opi from?' I ask. He smiles. 'Opium', he says. He tells me his sister's middle name is Astra Cloudberry. I am suitably impressed. The younger man interrupts. 'I don't have one', he says. 'You parents weren't hippies?' I ask. 'We're brothers', says the man still slumped against the window. 'But the man she was with when she had him weren't into that sort of stuff'. The younger man kisses the dog. 'My name's Bob', he says.
They try to guess my middle name. 'Sid', the younger one suggests, 'as in C.I.D.'. 'Gap', suggests the other. I look confused. The younger explains, 'Gay and proud'. I give them the answer. The younger one repeats it out loud. 'It's alright that is', he says.
It's my stop so I get up to leave. 'Nice to meet you', I say. The slumped man nods his head. 'You take care now', says the other.
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