It's all in the name

I was a bit surprised to read there's been a sudden increase in the number of wee boys called Jesse. Not Jesse as in 'Man up, ya wee Jesse' but as in the name of the hero of some TV programme on Sky Atlantic that I haven't seen.

It worries me, this fashion for picking names off the telly.

Not that I like my own name which is bog-standard Scottish and has caused endless confusion in French-speaking countries. My name dates from a time when families felt it was a tribute to relatives to name a child after them. So I am named for my mother and her mother and my father's auntie. My brother is named for his father and both grandfathers and my sister for my mother's sister. In any family gathering, this causes chaos. But it simplified things for my mother who was terrible with names: all she had to do was go through a basic list of 3 till she reached the name of the person she wanted.

A friend's sister found names easy when she moved to Australia in the 80s. She was a primary teacher and all the wee boys were called either Wayne, Dwayne or Shane. In Islay for a while in the 80s, we seemed to have a lot of girls called Arlene, Marlene and Charlene.

It all went wrong from the 90s. Then we got parents seeking original names and not finding them so now we have a few poor souls called Kylie, Chardonnay and Pocahontas and even, I believe, a Chlamydia or two. Scotland now seems to be full of weans called Sophie and Jack. Not traditional Scottish names - and I admit I really like traditional Scottish names.

The trouble is: a lot of names give your age away. They also get copied all the time. So we think we have the only Sebastian in the village and it turns out there are 3 in primary 1.

But the saving Grace (nice name, that!) is that you can change your name. And I'll bet there are a few folk who are glad of that.