It's all relative

What I've been thinking about this week:
1. Names
2. Relatives

I am endlessly fascinated by names: new names; old names; made up names. Although I suppose all names were made up once upon a time. 

Names tell stories. After I was born, my mum was on the phone and looking at the bookcase. She saw a book by Rebecca West and my name was decided. My middle name came from both my grannies (and I've also got an extra middle name I crammed in pretentiously after I got divorced. But that's another story). 

One of my favourite stories about names comes from my Dad's Mum's family. There was a tradition to call the first daughter Anne then add all the previous maiden names as middle names. My Gran's full name was Anne Black Macrae Wood Hanning Giblin. Thankfully she put a stop to it, otherwise my cousin Shelagh would have been Anne Black Macrae Wood Hanning Giblin Page Johnson. She'd never have been able to fit that on a form. 

"Enough is enough!"

And obviously, Ivie's name is a conversation starter. I've listened to him explain to lots of people where it comes from and that no, it's not short for anything. He's as patient as if it was the first time he's been asked and always says how well having an unusual name has served him over the years. 

He's the reason I've been thinking about names, really. As you'll know, I'm not a details person so often ask the same question more than once. I asked Ivie if his middle name was after someone in his family and he said (with slightly less patience than if someone else had asked him about his first name), "Yes (sigh). My Uncle."

Me: "Have I met him?"

Him: "No (sigh). You met his widow at the wedding reception."

Let me tell you about the wedding reception. It took place a couple of years ago and was for one of Ivie's many cousins' many children. The following weekend, we were invited to a 21st for one of Ivie's many cousins' many children on the other side of the family. 

This called for a tractor date, notebook and pencil and an attempt to:

1. understand Ivie's family tree; and

2. draw it whilst in a shoogly tractor. 

Gratuitous stationery shot

I thought I was doing quite well keeping up until Ivie dropped what I like to call the Barbara Bombshell. Barbara (who we met in Not a WAG), has two sisters - one is married to a Fisher cousin and the other is engaged to a cousin on the other side of the family. You can see why this is so complicated and why it's just as well that none of my cousins live in Wigtownshire. 

It's also just as well that we've only had the responsibility of naming a dog. Even then we managed to - inadvertently - name her after Trump's lawyer. Sigh.

Rudolph William Louis Giuliani Rudi

On the Road Again

What I've been thinking about this week:

• Time off
• Technology (again)

As you'll probably remember, I work part-time. It's a privileged existence, having the option to choose time over money and being able to do pretty much what I please most of the time. 

This is in stark contrast to Ivie who, given the choice, works every day he's at home. Sometimes it can be difficult to feel that I fit in with someone who can't sit still when I manage that pretty well, thanks very much. 

Covid has had an impact on our ability to have days out, weekends away and proper holidays over the past 18 months or so. But November is a quieter time on the farm so it's easier to lure Ivie away. I like to think that I'm an alluring siren on the rocks rather than a harpie stamping her feet but you'd have to ask Ivie. On second thoughts.... 

Last week we headed away for a few days. We had a mix of AirBnBs in the middle of nowhere and drinking bottles of wine, and visiting a couple of friends and drinking bottles of wine.

Blue skies in Norfolk

It was a really relaxing break but it reminded me of all the little things that we miss out on doing together that I'd normally have taken for granted. (Getting up at 8am at weekends is considered a lie-in for goodness' sake.)

• Having a cuppa in bed and reading the paper (Ivie's first cuppa is after he's fed beasts). 
• Sitting around in your pyjamas and easing into the day (no chance). 
• Having uninterrupted time together that isn't puncuated by something giving birth, dying, being in the wrong field (or all of the above).

It sounds like I'm moaning but it actually made me appreciate our time away even more. There was a lot of driving involved so I put my big girl pants on and took a turn in the driver's seat.  

What you should know about Ivie's car:

• My car would fit in the boot. 
• It is far too fancy for its own good. 
• I secretly like it (heated seats, anyone?).

I won't bore you with all the things it can do at the touch of a button but suffice to say my luddite tendencies have been getting quite a workout recently. 

I'm making a concerted effort to practise driving it, though, so that I don't become one of those people that expects to be chauffeur driven everywhere and then forgets how to work windscreen wipers. 

It's so much more comfortable than my own car that I'm in danger of becoming like a teenager who has just passed their test and wants to drive everyone everywhere. It might cut down on those bottles of wine, mind you.