Out of the Woods But Not Over the Hill Read Free

parents at the christening: “And what do you name this child?” The mother replied loudly, “Onacardie.” I had just begun sprinkling the water over the baby’s head and intoning: “I christen this child Onacardie,” only to be quickly interrupted by the irate mother. “No, no, vicar!” she hissed. “On ’er cardy. The name’s written on her cardigan. We want her to be called Siobhan.” ’
    â€˜I have a pet theory about first names,’ another head teacher told me. ‘Over the many years I have been in education, I have come to the conclusion that Shakespeare got it wrong when he said that “a rose by any other name would smell as sweet”. I learned very early on that boys called Richard tend to be well-behaved, quiet children who work hard, Matthews are very polite and thoughtful, Dominics are little charmers, Damiens have far too much to say for themselves and Kevins are accident-prone. Penelopes tend to be lively and interested, Jennys tend to be sporty, Traceys too big for their boots and Elizabeths little darlings.’
    â€˜And what about the boy called Gervase?’ I asked.
    â€˜I have never taught one,’ she told me. Then she thought for a moment. ‘However did you manage,’ she asked, ‘growing up in Rotherham, with a name like that?’
    Famous Forebears
    There’s a television programme which investigates the family history of celebrities. It has revealed some amazing facts and fascinating characters. Some of the forebears were rich and illustrious, others dark and villainous, which surprised, horrified and sometimes moved to tears their celebrated descendents. When I was young, reading adventure stories and blessed with an over-developed imagination, I thought that I might one day discover I was descended from someone great and good and that I would inherit a grand fortune.
    A friend of mine has been researching his family history and discovered that he had many a distinguished ancestor, including the first professor of mathematics at Cambridge University and friend of Prince Albert, a number of eminent vicars of Dent and possibly General John Lambert of Calton Hall, Kirkby Malham, architect of the Cromwellian Protectorate. On a recent literary-themed cruise, a fellow author and speaker was Lucinda Dickens-Hawksley, the great, great, great granddaughter of Charles Dickens and one who could rattle off a veritable plethora of famous forebears. Then there was the young man in a school in Harrogate who told me he had much to live up to, being the direct descendant of Scott of the Antarctic.
    My father-in-law has traced his family back several generations and has found a number of illustrious ancestors, including the Methodist preacher and theologian Joseph Bentley, author of How to Sleep on a Windy Night . I can certainly vouch for the veracity of the title; the collection of sermons put me to sleep in minutes.
    I did once think I might be related to the great and the good when I received a letter from a Miss Marjorie Mangham-Phinn, in which she claimed kinship. Having researched her own family history, Miss Mangham-Phinn had discovered that one of her most famous ancestors was Thomas Phinn, an eminent Victorian philanthropist and worthy. She maintained that Trollope based his character Phineas Finn, the decent, strikingly handsome young heartbreaker who charmed himself into polite society, on her distinguished ancestor. Thomas Phinn, she informed me, was the Member of Parliament for the elegant city of Bath from 1852 until 1855. She had an idea we might be related since Phinn is a most unusual name.
    When I was asked to speak at the Bath Literary Festival, in the magnificent Guildhall, in 2005, I had the opportunity of meeting my supposed ancestor. His marble bust had a prominent place in the entrance of the Guildhall. Styled as a Roman statesman with luxuriant curls, large honest eyes and prominent nose, he did bear a