OneGuyFromBarlick

Comedy of errors!
I get it now. Tizzy had a picture of an umbrella to identify where to hang his coat, where to hitch his minature pony, and where the chauffeur was to meet him for after school pickup.
Phew...glad we finally worked that out.
( poor Wendy was almost sat in a puddle of her own making)

I leave the room for a few hours and look at the mess you get yourselves into!

I know.
It's a good thing I am here to sort out the CHAOS...

Maz, how did you know I was thinking of telling a tale about being sat in a puddle of my own making? I decided against it....

It's like listening to a Morecambe and Wise sketch....... I love it. More!

Sorry about that, Wendy! Too many names all at once. At least Maz has got the right story now!

Poor Plaques became collateral damage...accused of a privileged childhood he may or may not have had. (Apologies!)
Not even little Prince George had an umbrella on first day of school.
And I have to say, any wee lad turning up with an umbrella on his first day at an Aussie school would suffer a few sideways looks! You get on better if you turn up with a battered school bag and scuffed shoes. We don't stand on ceremony here. Anything slightly scuffed or outgrown by an older sibling gives you "street cred".

Now...who's on first? And what's on second?

Marilyn wrote: ↑10 Sep 2018, 09:48 Poor Plaques became collateral damage.

The story of my life. Dad doing his bit in WW2 and mum earning a few coppers in the weaving shed. Me, farmed out to a lady across the street until infant school. Both infants and juniors were in the same school so moving up was a pretty seamless event. Grammar school was a different ball game, uniforms, pee caps and satchels. One lad turned up with this top of the range satchel with his initials in gold inlay. Unfortunately his name was Frank Arthur Greaves. F.A.G. It took years before anybody used his given name.

Here we go again?!
The poor boy was forced to wear a "pee cap".
How cruel...
And how terribly sad for F.A.G. as well ( having two afflictions presumably - the pee cap and those initial emblazoned on his satchel. )

I wonder if he had a sister called Henrietta Anne?!

One of the Hoyle kids in Barlick was called Olive......

Ah that's funny. A bit like Barry Mundy

Parents often lose the plot Cathy when they choose names. We named our first child after my maternal grandmother, Margaret. Vera was fine with this. We went outside the family for the next two, Susan and Janet, both Vera's choice and I liked them, never any argument. The other thing was that we decided on just one name.

We decided not to call any of our kids after relations so, Carla Gayle, Daniel which was going to be Daniel Ross but we realised his initials would be DR so we settled on Wayne for a middle name, don't know why, Dan didn't like it but it seemed OK to us at the time. Daniel was always Dan unless he was in bother! When our youngest lad came along we could see both granddads had hope in their eyes so we reneged and he became Jack Thomas. Jack after my dad who was John but called Jack as lad and Thomas after Sally's dad Tommy or Tom, never Thomas unless in bother!

We were told in no uncertain terms by some of the older aunts "Tha cant call him Jack, that's not a proper name". Well tough, he's our lad and is definitely a Jack, he doesn't mind the Thomas either!

There was correspondence in The Times last week about what was the shortest letter ever published on their Letters page. Apparently it was a letter with no body text, just a name. There had been an article about giving children unusual names and the author mentioned the name Keren-happuch from the Bible but said he thought nobody these days would have that name. A letter arrived at The Times which simply had the name and address of the writer, a lady called Keren-happuch (I can't recall the surname). The name is from one of Job's three daughters, the other two being Keziah and Jemimah.

My first husband ( father of my only child) had the middle name of Mark. He had always wished that Mark was his first name. So we called our boy Mark as it was his Dad's wish. Mark means " strong and warlike", which is a lot to imagine in a newborn weighing 6lb 4ozs. So I got to choose the middle name. ( I chose Adam.."first man" and all that)

And the WEIRDEST thing is that I always had the name David picked out as a younger brother for our Mark. That never happened, sadly, but who should I meet as my next husband...David!
Life is strange. I was always meant to have a David...and I got one! I do feel he was heaven sent.
Names have always meant something to me. When I hear some names, they are people you were "supposed to meet on your life journey", though maybe not as you intended!

I called my daughter Chelsea because I wanted her to remember that she has English blood from both her parents and all of her grandparents . Another choice for her name was Brooke, or Dale if she turned out to be a boy. Her middle names (2) come from each of her Great Grandma's.
She was the only student called Chelsea all thru her primary school years, which was nice.

You could have called her Brittany, Cazza!

When Janet had her first child after marrying into a Greek family she refused to be bullied into all Greek names. She asked me for a good Pagan name and I suggested Holly, a tree they venerated,. Big Harry liked it so we got Holly Alexandra always called Holly. In case your wondering, Harry was short for Harampoulos.

Our son came already named at 3 years old so we didn't get a choice. He is a Scot, so Craig Alexander is a good reminder of his heritage!

That is a good name, Wendy.
One of my step children has Alexander as a middle name..( again, the Scottish heritage I think, though I have never asked his Dad.)

I'll bet some poor kid somewhere will get called Brexit. Probably the child of a pop star or other celebrity.

As long as it isn't Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Brexit ........

I keep thinking about Rocking Horses. We had one when we lived in Fountain St.

Cathy wrote: ↑13 Sep 2018, 04:51 I keep thinking about Rocking Horses. We had one when we lived in Fountain St.

Then I would have been your friend! I longed for one, and the first school friend I can remember having was the proud owner of a rocking horse. She also wore one of those fluffy boleros, but I didn't envy that.