Coming from a family of five sons and no daughters, it’s quite simple to see where my Mam’s influence began to kick in regarding the whole name gig.
My two older bros – born in the early and mid 60s – have rather normal monikers.. Thomas and Noel respectively.
Then comes me.. with a name that nowadays would be considered a relatively normal one, though in the Ireland of 1971 was most uncommon.
Then my Mother went into loony school overdrive.. the next in line was to be called either Johann (after the Strauss waltz kings) or Heathcliff (after Wuthering Heights‘ resident nutjob) :roll: . Finally a compromise was (literally) bashed out twixt her and my Dad for a more acceptable, won’t get kicked around in the playground kinda handle. Dad suggested Lee, Mam acquiesced, but on condition that the spelling be the lesser used Leigh.. and so it was. This was 1975.
1978 brought the World Cup in Argentina – and with it my (now obviously completely deranged) Mother’s need to call her fifth son Mario, after the dashing, flowing locked hero of the said footy tournament – Mario Kempes.
Once again battle ensued, and after lengthy negotiations she decided on a completely different name.. Gyels (pronounced Giles, yet again an insistence on an odd spelling of an accepted name).
You DO NOT wanna know the middle names believe me :shock: .
Kinda puts me nearly being a Cheryl into perspective huh?
:roll: