The name game

Apparently many parents (one in seven, according to a survey) regret the name they gave their child and want to change it. Children themselves may also regret their name.

Parents go off a child's name for all sorts of reasons - it doesn't fit their personality, it's gathered unwanted associations, it's become too popular, it's become too unpopular, or it's become a commercial brand. Or even because someone they detest has a child with the same name.

A lot of children change their names as well. They shorten it, or adopt a completely different or androgynous or more memorable name, or turn a foreign name into something that sounds more English. Or replace a totally ridiculous name like Peaches with something more normal. Not surprising really since we're given no choice over our names and can easily take exception to them.

Personally I never use my given name, Nicholas (except on official documents), and I'm always known as Nick. It seems to me Nicholas is a bit long - and slightly pompous. Luckily it hasn't been tainted in any way - there's no serial killer called Nicholas or Nick as far as I know. And as yet there's no Nicholas rat poison.

My father disliked his given first name, Edward, and was always known by his second name, Colin. My sister's name is Heather, but she's usually known by the abbreviated Heth (th as in though).

The fashion for androgynous names can cause a lot of confusion. Names like Sam, Alex, Charlie, Frankie, Robin, Jackie and Jules can prompt very wrong and embarrassing assumptions about the person's sex. If they look androgynous as well, there's even more scope for confusion.

It must be galling for parents when they've agonised for months over what name to give their child, only to find the child loathes it and adopts a different name anyway. Or little Trixie decides she'd rather be called Kardashian or Wittgenstein.

Out of reach

I'm hopeless at remem-bering the details of people's friends and relatives. However hard I try, names simply go in one ear and straight out the other. My memory is so feeble I'm just about capable of remem-bering a spouse, a partner or a sibling. Everything else vanishes down a cerebral black hole, never to be retrieved.

Even children's names just flutter by like moths. I'm gaily introduced to little James, Rebecca and Sophie (well, I tend to move in middle-class circles), only to forget their names ten seconds later. Did she say James or Jeff? Rebecca or Robin? Sophie or Sally? I'm searching my memory desperately, hoping I won't need their names in the next few minutes, and wondering how to bluff my way through till I'm reminded. Ah, so it was Sally? Why didn't that lodge in my brain? Doesn't she look just like a Sally?

Or someone casually mentions Robert, and how rapidly he's recovering from his operation. Robert? Who the hell is Robert? And what operation was this? Is Robert anything to do with Teresa, the tall, red-haired woman? Is he the same Robert who's allergic to cats? How do I stealthily find out? Or hide my ignorance?

I can recall the closest names, but all the far-flung connections usually escape me. The in-laws, uncles, aunts, cousins, nephews, nieces. It's too much to absorb. I marvel at those individuals who can identify every obscure member of someone's family, and recall instantly that Aunt Julia is the one who drinks like a fish, hates Indian food and always wears skirts. How do they do it? What's their secret?

I'm told that not remembering such things is simply down to poor concentration or not listening properly. Or even a lack of interest in other people. But I'm fascinated by other people and their personal quirks and lifestyles. I just have a memory like a sieve. A memory that thinks it's a waste bin.

What's in a name?

Changing your name is increasingly popular. This year more than 90,000 Britons have used deed poll services to do just that, a rise of over 30 per cent on 2009.

People are keener to alter a name they dislike and avoid the related embarrassment, prejudice or ridicule. They're not going to put up with a cringe-inducing name just because their parents gave it to them or because changing it is too laborious.

They make the change for all sorts of reasons, not just because their name is Sidebottom or Smellie. Divorcees want their old name back. Job applicants with foreign names want something more indigenous. People want a name that's more suited to their personality, or is easier to spell and pronounce, or disconnects them from past crimes or shameful activities.

You can't change your name to just anything though. Deed poll services reject unsuitable names like Osama bin Laden or Jesus Christ or swear words. Or presumably overtly sexual words.

Apparently it's common for people committing suicide to change their names beforehand, a sign of the identity crisis they're going through. People may take on the name of someone they admire or someone they're obsessed with, like stalkers taking their victim's name.

I've never had any desire to change my surname, it's a very ordinary and unremarkable name. It doesn't reflect my personality at all, but what name would? It's not a liability in any way, be it employment, social occasions or anything else. So I'll hang on to it, thanks.

But I do wonder why Bob Geldof's daughters - Peaches Honeyblossom, Fifi Trixibelle and Pixie - don't change their names. I suppose if nothing else, they're memorable and distinctive. But don't they cringe every time they hear them?

Pic: Peaches Honeyblossom Geldof