Frost. Parenthood. Names.

There was frost on the shed roof this morning when I looked out of the window. When I went out running there was still frost on the grass in the places the sun had not yet reached. It strikes me as a little early to be getting ground frost but there it is. Otherwise it is a fine sunny, blue sky day. Rather “autumnial” as a friend of mine overheard someone say the other day.

On the Donkey Line bridle path where I ran this morning there were five youngish trees or bits of trees blown down by whichever storm had just blown its way through the area. Not major storm damage but dramatic enough for me.

In the “Lost in Space “ column in the Guardian I read that the actor Richard Gere is about to become a father at the age of 69. I know that 69 is not as old as it used to be. 69 is probably the new 49! And I know that the child will be well provided for financially. And I assume that Richard Gere is still fit enough to play a bit of football with the child. And I also know that it is none of my business. But still, I can’t help thinking that even if Richard Gere lives to be 90, that child is probably going to lose his father before he has had chance to grow up - the child that is, not the father! Mind you, this is showbiz so there is no guarantee that the father will be around too long in the child’s life anyway.

I also read that the annoying TV personality and supposed comic Chris Evans, at 54 still a tad old to be embarking on fatherhood, has become the father of twins called, apparently, Ping and Pong. Later I read that Ping and Pong were temporary names, used by the parents during the pregnancy. They are actually called Walt and Boo.

Walt is an example of those boys’ names which have become popular in recent years, using an abbreviation and only an abbreviation of a longer name. What kind of name is Boo though? The poor little girl will jump every time anyone says her name!

I can’t help feeling that all the little Freddies will object when they are grown-up s to having been given that version of the name. But at least they can shorten it further to Fred. Quite what you do if you are called Boo, goodness only knows. Change it as soon as you are legally able to do so, I should think.

On the bus the other day I was chatting with one of my nodding-acquaintances. At some point he told that he has always hated his name: Edwin! Fortunately for him, his friends all call him Eddie and his wife calls him Ed. Only family members of his parents’ generation give him his full name, and there can’t be very many of them left these days.

His mother chose the name Edwin because she thought it sounded regal.

Parents have a lot to answer for!