Travesi

At a railway station shop, the woman behind the counter is wiping down the surface.  I ask if she is still open.  I have been working since e-six thirty', she says in a Spanish accent.  'I'm sorry', I reply.  'Why are you e-sorry?' she says, ' Is not your fault'.  I pick out a packet of salt and vinegar crisps.  She has silver-rimmed rounded glasses and dark hair in a bun.  She is wearing a pair of yellow converse.  Round her neck hangs a key.  I ask what it is for.  'It opens a little wooden box', she tells me.  'What's inside?' I ask.  'Nothing e-special', she replies.

'Woa.  Woa.  Woa.  E-slowly', she says with her hands in the air as I try to ask my question.  She tells me that she doesn't have a middle name.  In Spain they have two surnames.  She writes one down on a till receipt.  'Is the most important', she says, 'my father's'.

Yussef

A lady in African garb is selecting pears from outside a twenty-four hour shop.  She has a gold turban and tunic decorated with flowers and small circles of glass.  On the end of her nose are gold-rimmed spectacles held to her head with a gold chain.  From her earlobes hang gold earrings in the shape of leaves. She eyes me with suspicion.

'Why do you want to know?' she asks.  I awkwardly explain my resolution.  She is unimpressed.  'I can't tell you my middle name.  I don't even know you'.  I tell her that it is not obligatory but that it would help me out.  She purses her lips.  I wait it out.  'Okay', she says and mumbles it.  I have to ask her to repeat herself.  'What's your name?' she asks.  'I'm Richard', I say and hold out my hand.  She shakes it.  'Nice to meet you, Richard', she says and turns back to the pears.

Renee

In a hot tube I feel a tap on my left shoulder.  'Excuse me but your bag is open', says a dark-haired girl in a green dress who is standing behind me.  Flustered, I apologise, tell her I always do this and fumble with my zip.

As we get off at the same stop I tap her in return.  On the platform I ask my question.  She looks pleased to be asked, puts her hand to her chest and gives me an answer.  Her friend is standing next to her.  She has cropped hair, a rucksack and a pink face.  I ask if they have been making the most of the sunshine.  'You can probably see that I have', replies the friend, smiling with her eyes apologetic.  They are from Canada and are having a gap year in the UK.  They spent today in the park.

I wish them a happy time and we continue our journeys on different tube lines.

David

'Have you got any ripe avocados?' I ask the man at the fruit and veg stall on the pavement.  He is short and his thinning grey hair is combed back.  He has small mole-like glasses and his eyes are close together.  He is wearing an over-sized white t-shirt and blue patterned Bermuda shorts.  On his feet are socks and trainers.

'No idea, mate', he says, 'I'm just looking after it.  He'll be back in five minutes'.  He nods his head.  I suggest that I could test them myself and find one that sufficiently gives way.  'Are you enjoying the weather?' he asks.  I reply that I very much am and ask the same in return.  'Of course', he replies.  I give him £1.20 and tell him about my resolution.  He gives me a middle name and my avocado in a brown paper bag.

(Ruth) and Matthew

Leaving an album launch in South London, I interrupt some goodbyes to ask the lady who had taken my money at the door.  She has a perpendicular fringe and her hair is cut into a straight line at her shoulder.  It sways as she answers, 'I don't have one'.  Disaster looms but a bald man with glasses (her husband) steps into the breech and gives me what I need. 'Do you want to know the reason for it?' he asks before thinking, 'Oh no, that's my first name'.

'I should have had a middle name', says the original object of my request.  She is eager to help and tells me the name that her mother had chosen; 'But my dad was drunk when he filled out the form and he forgot to write it down', she says.

George

The real middle name of the crooning pensioner who saw the United Kingdom to a second from bottom placement at this year's Eurovision Song Contest.

Claire Anne

On a bench in the crowded front yard of a bar in the arches underneath a station, I sit next to the fiancee of a friend of a friend.  She has wavy blonde hair and seems tall.  She works in television and we talk about the novel she is trying to write.

On leaving I ask my question.  Her groom-to-be reminds her of the second part.  It is the name she chose at her confirmation.  'After St Anne', she says, 'God, I'm so boring'.

(St Anne was the mother of Mary and thus grandmother of Jesus according to the Apocraphal New Testament.  She also lends her name to a beach resort and spa in the Seychelles which is, according to its website 'an island of dreams and sensual pleasures'.)