Names are funny things. They don’t define us and yet they do define us. We’re all recognisable by our names. If I find myself walking down the street one day and I hear someone shout, “ALAN!” then there is every probability that I will turn around to see who it is. But Alan is not an uncommon name (I know several other Alans) and chances are that it could we be another Alan they were calling to. Still made me look though didn’t it.
Our names are an integral part of who we are. It is how we are initially identified. And it is the first thing in this World that we possess. We’re given a name at birth by our parents before we’re given a teddy bear. And like it or not that’s the name we have unless we want to change it by deed poll but I always think that’s something of a cop out.
I can remember years ago going on a coach trip with my family and stopping at some country park somewhere for a break. My brother and I, both in our early teens, needed the loo and off we went to the public one in the park. We’d only just started to relieve our bladders when a young lad, maybe 8 years old came and stood in between us, pulled his trousers and pants down to his ankles and started to have a wee himself.
Nothing too strange about that.
But what happened next had me and my brother crying with laughter.
The toilet window was open at the top, providing some much-needed fresh air to the place, and all of a sudden a very posh and plummy woman’s voice could be heard drifting through it. “Gaylord?” Said the voice. “Have you finished Gaylord? Mummy’s waiting to go.”
Now, to all the Gaylord’s out there I would like to say that I don’t find your name even half as funny now as I found it in 1979 and I’m deeply sorry if I’ve offended you in any way. But let’s do remember that this was the seventies and names like Gaylord would often be touted as hilarious. And to two pubescent lads it was hysterical.
But no, you should be proud of the name Gaylord.
Am I proud of the name Alan?
Hmmm, not really. I was in fact named after the American actor Alan Ladd which was quite cool at the time as he always played the good-looking hero of whatever film he was in, such as Shane for example. But over the years since then Alan has become somewhat derogatory. Think Alan Partridge for example. Alan is not considered cool and is also an anagram of anal so I’ll just leave that there and let you make of it what you will.
But it could be so much worse. I could have been called Gaylord. No! Stop it Stevenson, we’ve finished with all that.
I guess Alan is ok though as most people I know tend to abbreviate it to just Al. And Al is a lot cooler than the full Alan. There was Al Capone and Al Stewart and Al Pacino and Al Green and even a song – You Can Call Me Al, by Paul Simon. When you shorten Alan to Al it becomes an entirely different anim-al altogether (see what I did there?)
And what’s even cooler, to my mind at least, is when people but the noun ‘big’ in front of Al When you do that you get Big Al. I rather like that and I am, after all of a tall and somewhat portly stature so it fits perfectly.
My wife, Ange, calls me Al; always has done. Right from the off. And it makes me happy to hear her say it. The vast majority of my friends call me Al also and it was probably only my mother who called me Alan at the last. She’s gone now so I guess that’s it as far as Alan goes.
Even my dad called me Al Cats. I don’t fully know why. I think it was an abbreviation of Alley Cat but whatever it was I didn’t mind because I thought that was still cooler than plain old Alan.
I’ve been called many other things over the years as well.
Some of them are too offensive to post here and some are too upsetting personally to repeat. I was once called ‘ugly’ by a woman who looked like the bastard offspring of a night of passion between Fu Manchu and Janet Street-Porter. I can’t remember my response but it certainly wasn’t complimentary and probably contained a reference to a paper bag.
I ain’t ugly!
My high school maths teacher, Mr Garrett (I’m naming and shaming) never called me anything other than Stevenson. I found that quite challenging. I wasn’t in the armed forces or the police and at just over 11 years of age it came as quite a shock. I didn’t like that.
During my raucous teenage years I was called ‘Stevo’ by my friends, for obvious reasons, and I did like that. It gave me street credibility and an instantly recognisable handle. There were no other Stevo’s in the area either so it was also unique. Everyone knew who Stevo was.
I have been called Mr Stevenson of course by doctors, dentists, irate bank managers and county court judges. But I always say to people nowadays that Mr Stevenson was my dad’s name.
Actually, just coming back to the Al thing for a moment. My middle name is Leonard, after my grandfather, and so my first two initials are A.L and so I’m Al whichever way you look at it. Good isn’t it.
So yes, what’s in a name?
Like I said, I’ve been called all sorts of names and many of them pleasant. I’ve been called husband, stepdad, son, brother, friend, mate, dude and on one strange occasion I was called chutchy-face (don’t ask) and another time I was called Alf, but I think that was down to the person being a bit hard of hearing.
There is one other name though, above all of those that I love being called the best. It makes me smile whenever I hear it and I feel a little glow of pride as well.
And that name is…
Can you guess…
It’s Grandad!
My favourite name.