CAN YOU PULL OFF YOUR NAME?

Audio Quack (Skip intro 2:16)

It was Hermione’s 32^nd birthday on the weekend, and as always, it was an outdoor event. Last year we were in a park in East London, this year, Port Meadows in Oxford. “Bring swimwear!” she demanded in the What’s App invite. I wasn’t going to bring swimwear. We were also requested to bring snacks to make a picnic.

It was one of those summer days that wasn’t summer; the sky was the colour of a pencil sketch and the wind had a bite. Amy and I were making our way over the meadows with Twiglets, popcorn and breadsticks, when we spotted Hermione and Sam on a small blanket, surrounded by long grass and splatters of horse pat.

“Oh, I should have said to everyone to bring their own blankets,” Hermione said, facepalming herself. We told her it was no problem, then Amy and I made a nest with our shopping bags.

Soon, Hermione’s other guests started appearing, coming across the field like animals finding their pack after a hunt…(in M&S). There were all sorts; Teachers, lab technicians, IT nerds, farmers, a lawyer, a pilot, a green energy consultant, and one (sort of) celebrity; Hermione’s sister was recently on the McCain potatoes advert and now must endure us repeating her line back to her all the time.

“You’re supporting the move to regenerative farming…”

It was impressive that everybody found Hermione’s party considering the only directions we had was a drawn on cross that took up a quarter of the meadow.

We all had the same idea in terms of picnic food, and ended up with a huge collection of posh crisps – the kind where the peppercorn is visible. Oliver went a little left field and brought a pot of tzatziki, and you knew he had paid extra because you could see the oil pooling around the top.

“Everyone always forgets the tzatziki,” Oliver said, very proud of himself.

Little circles of conversations formed. In our circle we played a game of Would You Rather?

“Would you rather be able to communicate in every language or communicate with animals?”

I said, communicate in every language, because you can have sex with an Italian man, but you can’t have sex with a Moose. The circle disagreed, they all wanted to talk to animals.

“Wouldn’t it be cool to say to a shark, hey mate,” said the airplane pilot.

“No, he doesn’t care what you have to say, he’ll just eat you,” I argued.

“Nah, I’ll be like, don’t eat me, I’m sound mate.”

I nodded, unconvinced. And then I accidentally called Oliver…Ollie, which opened up the topic of ‘names.’

I’m not enamoured with the name Mary, it has a religious weight to it that can kind of kill the mood. Once, I tried to go by the name of Mary Lou, I thought it would lighten me up a little, but it didn’t stick. Sometimes, I wonder if I should refer to myself as “MA MA!” which would only be said in a bellowing, plummy voice. The new name would come with an identity shift, I would wear neck scarves and take up smoking and yell in people’s faces, “MA MA, YAH… SHORT FOR MARY.”

When I told this to the circle though, they didn’t think I could pull it off.

We all decided that Oliver didn’t suit being an Ollie. He loves The Rest is History and brought a fancy tzatziki to a picnic – he is definitely an Oliver. And Ellie suited being Ellie, not an Elenor. And no-fluff Amy, suited being an Amy not an Aimee.

The conversation moved on to kids’ names, and when we eventually stop playing Would You Rather?, grow up and have kids, are we going to call them something traditional like ‘Daniel’ or ‘Kate’, or something millennial like ‘Vixen’ or ‘Archer’.

I do like an interesting name. I’ve been guilty of adapting guys’ names to make them sound more exciting to my friends. Nothing dramatic, just adding a ‘Y’ at the end. However, I do think millennials have gone too far with rockstar names. “This is Glow Smith…” There is a lot to live up to when you have a ‘cool name’. You can’t exactly be called, Everest and be a tiny mouse of a man, who loves spreadsheets and eats plain digestive biscuits.

The conversation was interrupted by Hermione’s announcement, that it was time to go for a swim. She was standing in her blue swimming costume, that she had changed into behind the long grass.

“Right, I’m going for a dip, who’s with me?” she shouted, then charged across the meadows and jumped into the freezing, murky River Thames.