Naming a child has been an important event in family life throughout history, involving many and various traditions both cultural and personal to the particular family and often subject to the vagaries of fashion. When I was young, the children in my class were largely called, Nigel, Paul, Philip, John, Susan, Jane, Janet and Margaret. I thought the names of my father's generation were awful: his siblings went by the names of Blanche, Edna, Rowsell and Gladys, his own name being even more dreadful - Harold. My grandmother's name was Ethel, or was it Mabel? No matter. Ugh. I chose traditional names for my own children: Catherine, Nicholas and Andrew, and when they started having theirs, I begged that they remember just one thing: please choose something everyone can both pronounce and spell without asking "Could you repeat that, please?" They have managed quite well unlike a cousin, who named their first child, Jared - at least that's how I thought it was spelt - turns out it is in fact, "Jarrod" and a cousin in Australia has a girl called Georgia, well, that's what I put on my birthday calendar. Wrong again. They spell it "Jorga", which to me contravenes all the spelling rules I learned at school. However, English is nothing if not a language of exceptions to the rule, so I may not judge. We have a lot of bi-lingual primary schools in this country, English/Afrikaans, and in the smaller towns the classes are not even separate. My library colleague was telling me that a friend of theirs, a grown man whose name is 'Riaan' (Afrikaans), is mysteriously referred to as 'Amriaan', by contemporaries who were in his first grade at school, when they were all 6-years old. She asked him one day why this was. He told her that on the first day, the teacher had each child stand up and introduce himself and when it was his turn, he thought he would show off his knowledge of English and said, "I am Riaan". No-one was expecting to hear words of another language and so all, including the teacher chorused, "Hello, Amriaan!" And so it stuck.