Hi, my name is, what? My name is, who?

Mixups, misrememberings and monikers

During the first couple of weeks after moving to Hastings I met lots of neighbours. Among them a guy called Melvyn. For some reason I had a mental block about his name and whenever I saw him would say, “Hi, Mervin!” It got to the point that when I saw him coming towards me, I would mentally say, “Mel not Mer, Mel not Mer”.

After about six months of living here I was on the street having a chat to another neighbour and he stopped for a chat. “See you later, Melvyn,” I said as he walked off.

“Why do you call him Melvyn?” the neighbour asked. “His name’s Lionel!”

The Tings Tings said it better

It’s not the first time I’ve convinced myself that someone’s name isn’t the one they go by – I’m not great at remembering people’s names in general. I remember faces but not the names that go with them. Apparently when meeting someone new the trick is to say their name three times when you are chatting to them as this cements it in your mind. It also makes you sound like a looney. 

On the subject of names: Some of the things people have called me and names they've given me over the years.

Steven Short – my mum used to call me this when she was about to tell me off. For years she also called me ‘My Little Soldier’. I miss her being just a phone call away.

Toscanini – my granddad called me this. I don’t know why. He called my sister Poppet. We called him Daddy Mick because, when his first grandchild was born, he refused to be called granddad as it made him sound old (he was a mere slip of a thing at 44!). His name was actually Edward Ernest Grey but everyone called him Mick, as in Mickey Dripping, because he used to love dripping on toast.

Basher – my family called me this when I was a toddler because I was apparently always hitting people. Not in an aggressive way, more, I suspect in a Dick Emery, ‘you are awful…’ kind of way. At this time I also had a bit of a thing for grabbing the crotches of male members of the family. Something I was told not to do because it was naughty. (Which probably accounts for about £5,000 of therapy later in life.)

Don’t be fooled by the baby face, I’ll grab your crotch at the first opportunity! (Big up to my twin, Wendy, whose speciality was wiping bogeys on people. What a team!)

Gaylord – this was actually one of the kinder nicknames I was given at school. I was fat, effeminate, wore glasses, spoke with a vague lisp and sounded much posher than other people in the neighbourhood. I hated all sports, except netball, which, rather marvellously, some of the teachers let me play. To this day I can’t work out how people realized I might be gay or why I was relentlessly bullied (which I will write about some time).

Steve – my family all call me Steve even though I always think of myself, and indeed introduce myself, as Steven.

Stevie – my friends Gordon and Steph call me this. I like the fondness of it. My sister Tracy sometimes calls me Shorty, which I like, too.

My favourite Stevie who was actually born Florence Margaret.

Churri – A Spanish diminutive, which doesn’t really mean anything. My boyfriend Juan used to call me this. Juan was the first person in my adult life who made me feel loved.

Estiff – As I’m known to my Spanish friends. ST words in Spanish are almost always prefaced by E. Estiff is as close as their language lets them get to Steve.

Estipun – How the students at the Japanese school where I used to teach referred to me. The school was forever having parents evenings to showcase what brilliant things their fees were paying for. One evening there was an award ceremony where we three English teachers were all given an award, seemingly just for showing up each week. Calling us up, one by one, to collect our awards we were each summed up by an oddly-pronounced adjective. We worked out that Alison was ‘diligent’ and I was ‘fun’. All our poor colleague Sue got, however, was ‘present’, which she took as a grave insult – “oh, lovely, I’m just ‘there’, like a chair or a table.” It took us a while to realise that they actually meant ‘pleasant’.

SSUK – I have a real pen pal who lives in San Francisco. We write proper, old-fashioned letters to each other and have done for more than 20 years. Receiving a letter from SSUSA (as he’s known to me) is one of my favourite things, and if it arrives during the week I will save it for the weekend when I can read it in bed with a coffee.

Steven Short – this is what David calls me when he comes in or we speak on the telephone.

How many names do you go by?