6th November:

In the tragic-comedic farce that is the world of the parent-to-be (see earlier posts), sooner or later the talk turns to the subject of nomenclature.

This, as you would expect, is a veritable minefield. Saddling your beloved first-born with an inappropriate moniker can have huge potential consequences, both in terms of the child’s self-esteem and personality and the likelihood of you having to re-mortgage the house in order to pay those eye-wateringly large bills for cognitive therapy sessions.

Examples of worst-practice stretch from the sublime (stand up Anne Teak, Theresa Green et al) to the ridiculous and just plain lazy. Nigella, anyone?

Names also come and go with fashion. We’ve sadly seen a sharp decline in the number of Ethel, Norman and Beryls in the UK, whereas in certain biscotti-friendly British suburbs you can’t seem to move for Olivers and Emmas. The Bethany, the Britney and the Kevin also seem to be increasingly common phenomena, albeit within an entirely different socio-economic sphere. I did once meet a Torquil and it was, frankly, a confusing experience for us both.

So what is a good parent-to-be to do? I recommend suppressing your natural instinct to stick two fingers up to the Man by calling your child ‘Sunflower’ or ‘Blossom’ (especially if it is a boy) and going for something plain and simple, with a maximum of 2 syllables. Trust me, your bank manager will thank you for it later.