The Name Game

One of the more archaic parliamentary terms is to be named. I am not sure what being named means but apparently it puts the fear of God, or more terrifyingly still, the fear of Winston Peters up members of parliament, so it must be important as well as gratifying.
Of course names are wonderful things. And numerous. I have been called many in my dealings with the public. We cannot do without them. One, Prince, once tried, and that didn’t get him anywhere—it was a shambolic, symbolic attempt. Even so, sometimes names don’t quite go together and, even if they do, they may be cause for derision. Within my domain I know of a Rocky, Clay, Emerald and Coral Isle. All related. Emerald and Coral, both not yet married, are often and obviously referred to as Miss Isle.
But what interests me most is the evolving nature of names. Those that are in fashion, and those that fall out of favour—often permanently. It would be too much to assume that Facebook will find favour, but someone has named their child that. There is also an Apple and, topically from the English rugby team, the wonderfully named Will Power. I am having lunch today with an equally wonderfully named Priscilla—that’s not a name you hear often these days, but it is like poetry and deserves resurgence.
Less poetic are names that, I think deservedly, have fallen out of favour and hopefully will never return. At the risk of offending some (and here I have at least checked my mailing list) I would include among those: Agnes, Felicity, Maude, Florence, Bert, Algernon and quite possibly the one name above all nobody wants to hear again…Hone.