At a birthday drink on the other side of London, I am introduced to someone who lives five minutes away from me. She has short brown hair and a horizontally striped top. We agree that it too us longer than expected to get here.
In the spirit of neighbourhood solidarity, I ask her my question. 'It was going to be my first name', she tells me. 'But both my parents being teachers and my grandparents, they decided that I wouldn't be able to spell it until I was sixteen'. They called her Anne instead.
'But now I've used it for my daughter', she says. Her daughter is four-and-a-half years old. I ask if she can spell it. 'Yes', she replies. 'But she spells my name with only one 'n''.
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