12 July 2011

Posted by DMC on 13 July 2011 in Diary |

“A rose by any other name will smell as sweet…“. I’m sure Shakespeare was right so far as flowers are concerned but what about girls names?. How could anyone in their right mind saddle their daughter with a name like ‘Harper Seven’?! This is precisely what Beckham and his wife,’ Posh Spice’ have done to their newly born daughter. There are hundreds of beautiful girls names without inventing something as way out as Harper Seven. The poor girl will undoubtedly get heavily teased at school and called something like’ half past seven’ or 7.30. What is it with the Beckham’s? Even their sons have got weird names. Who on earth would want to go through life being called .Cruz?

I’m sure I heard a news flash to the effect that the Beckham’s have asked Prince William to act as godfather to their daughter. If so, I hope he will be able to find something in the Royal protocol which will allow him to gracefully decline. No future King of England should be saddled with a goddaughter with the name Harper Seven.

I have some personal experience of problems with naming one’s children. When my daughter Chloe was born we decided that her second name would be Olivia. As both children to their mother’s name, Wynn, it was not until we received a Milk Token booklet, entitling the poor little might to a small bottle of milk each day at school, that glaring at us from the front cover of this booklet were the initials C O W (Cato). We realised that we had to beat a rapid retreat and get her birth certificate altered. This is not as easy as it might sound albeit that Chloe was only a few weeks old.

I seem to remember that we had to advertise the change in the London Gazette, at the exorbitant cost (in those days) of £80 plus a modest fee from my solicitor for the advice. Olivia was swiftly replaced by Victoria (am I right in saying that this is Posh Spice’s Christian name?!). So you see Mr Beckham it is not too late for you and your wife to come to your senses and give the poor girl a name she can live with.

Right, I’ve had my rave for the day. When I been doing? Well, I scarcely need to remind my regular readers that being a Tuesday I went off to the golf club and roamed around in my electric wheelchair speaking to various mates of mine and, occasionally jocularly throwing in the odd bit of advice about their stance or swing!. I have one or two scares when I tackled some of the slopes but fortunately did not come to grief. Of course, this excellent wheelchair was never intended for cross-country obstacle racing.

At lunch I ended up with a new feeder.’Biddley’ (David Biddle) opted to sit on my right hand side where John Gray had intended to place himself in order to feed me. So, after the boys had struggled to work out how put on my apron and other protective clothing it, fell to David to raise a spoon to my mouth from time to time. I must say he did not make a bad shot of it for the first time, although, as I so rudely said to him,’ it’s a long time since you fed any of your children’. David agreed that it had been ‘a bloody long time’. Having got most of the food in my mouth and not too much in my lap, we adjourned outside for a quick puff before George came round with the wheelchair wagon to take me home.

I’m glad to say that George did not take too much urging to assist ‘my lovely’ to hoist me into my study chair and thus avoiding me waiting until the six o’clock call to be moved. I think the only reason that Alice decided to ignore Harriet’s specific injunction that she was not to use the hoist was that Althea was due mid afternoon to attend to my finger and toe nails. This then, apart from the fun I had seeing all my mates at the golf club, was my big excitement for the day!

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