This week at work, I met a young man (early 20's) called Arthur, and an older guy (early 60's I'd say) named Brent. I also met a Kevin (late 50's), who works with, and has a very similar surname to, Brent. I think my confusion started because Arthur is, to me, an older person's name, and vice versa. In my mind, they swapped names. Arthur became Brent - same surname - while the real Brent looked like a Kevin and the real Kevin looked like an Arthur. Worryingly, my mum also has name problems - for example Mr Dover-Wellman became Folkstone-Wellbeloved. I don't know if it started as a joke, but the name is now irreversible. My maternal grandmother was even worse. She loathed the name Norman, which happens to be my step-dad's name, and simply refused to acknowledge that such a name existed, and re-Christened him John. There is, of course, no real point to this blag... just the random ramblings of an gently aging brain. Will I be as outright rude in my dotage? I think the elderly are allowed to be, it's one of the few perks of being old. In keeping with the theme, I added a random photo of flowers from my garden - no connection at all, but they're very pretty.
2 Comments
10/10/2013 07:51:56 am
Interesting thoughts.
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