Meeting the family

Non-conforming bevahiour never fails to attract attention. All over the world, the tradition is to meet a partner, engage in a period of courting, get married and have children. So when one or more stages is skipped, prying questions are asked as people try to compute what is going on: “When's it going to be your turn, then?”, “Is that the pitter-patter of tiny feet I hear?” and so on. Such patriarchal, and heteronormative, assumptions fail to consider the possibility that some people don't want any of that, or maybe only want part of it, or they do want it, but not in the same way as everyone else.

We may feel the shadow of the patriarchal jackboot looming above us here in Scotland, it is but the merest of tickles compared to life in China. Young people in China are expected to marry in their 20s and such is that pressure to 'settle down', many are now resorting to hiring fake partners take home. A 'beau' can cost up 700 yuan (£72) with the negotiable add-ons such as doing chores and drinking with the relatives. The practice has now become so widespread that a film, Contract Lover, and a hit TV drama, Renting a Girlfriend to Return Home for New Year have been made. 

The happy couple

The joys of film

Almost a year after returning from our travels, I finally got some of the films from my Holga developed. I was pleased that there was something to see in almost all of them, and I didn't just pay to have three films of indecipherable, blank-ish pictures developed.

Brave soldier

Owl displays her battle scars with a proud stoicism. Always at the ready; trusty, reliable guardian of the keys. She was nestled in the back pouch of my cycling jacket as I cycled home. From high above, a seagull swooped down, its beady eyes fixed on half an egg sandwich, the remains of the day’s lunch, resting next to Owl in my back pouch. She is a defender at heart, nay, a paladin, who exists to ensure that I will never be locked out. The seagull keeps coming, its large beak attempting to snatch a corner of the sandwich. Brave Owl pecks at the intruder and the seagull falls back. But the seagull makes a last gasp effort for its quarry. Owl’s small beak is no match for the brutish bill of the gull, however, and its parting shot is a final, vicious jab to Owl’s eye. This battle is played out at my rear and yet I am oblivious until I arrive at my front door and reach in for Owl. Owl is humble in her victory and we share the egg sandwich for tea.      

Last of the Christmas cake

It's that time of year. I'm back at work and, after being sickened of festive sweets, I'm trying to pass what remains on to visitors. "Go on, take the Christmas cake home with you. It's delicious, go on."  

The calm after the storm

A rare clear day yesterday heralded the opportunity to go for a much needed cycle. The unusually vibrant blue sky was a welcome reprieve from the endless rain and recent extreme weather. Earlier this week, Scotland was thrashed by a storm which saw widespread damage as trees were uprooted, roofs were blown off houses, roads were closed when  lorries were toppled over, the Clyde burst its banks, wheelie bins blew up the street like tumbleweed, and 160,000 households were left without power.

As we cycled through the southside, across the Clyde, and into the west end, the signs of the widespread damage in Glasgow remained. Broken tiles and smashed chimneys lay in piles on the pavements, trees were ripped from the ground and snapped in two, cars were crushed from fallen masonry, police tape flapped around mounds of debris, and handwritten signs on bus stops warned pedestrians to watch out for falling slates from above.

While cars can be replaced and houses rebuilt, the trees are lost forever. Kelvin Way is a street in the west end lined with huge trees which in the summer create a picturesque arch of leaves overhead. On one side is Kelvingrove Park, and on the other Glasgow University and Kelvingrove Art Gallery. I have many fond memories of Kelvin Way, from when I first moved to Glasgow to go to university, and also in more recent times; it's just a ideal area in which to go for a cycle.

Kelvin Way trees resplendent in the summer

It was with sadness then that we saw a number of trees destroyed by the recent gales. Beautiful old trees torn from the pavements and battered down across the railings. Other trees in Kelvingrove Park were split in two, toppled over with the inside wood exposed. 

This tree took the pavement and the kerb with it

Tree on Kelvin Way with Kelvingrove Art Gallery in the distance

Bent railings from the force of the tree crashing down

Damaged tree in Kelvingrove Park

I am fortunate to live in Glasgow, a city which has over 90 parks and gardens. So when parts of the environment are destroyed, whether by forces of nature or by avaricious developers, it reminds me not to take our Dear Green Place for granted.  

What's in a name?

The list of baby names registered in Scotland in 2011 was recently published. Tradition still plays a widespread role in the naming of children, from male family names being passed on to first-borns to the dominant patriarchal tradition of children having their father's surname. Tradition aside, naming a child must surely be one of the greatest opportunities to unleash one's creativity. It also offers parents the chance to project their dreams and aspirations onto the child and the life that he or she will have.

Creativity can come in the name itself, or increasingly it comes with the variations in the spelling of a name. This seems to be particularly prevalent with newer names. 

Take, for example, the name Jayden. There were no less than 12 variations in spelling of this name in Scotland in 2011. Jaden (17), Jadon (2), Jadyn (2), Jaeden (2), Jaiden (16), Jaidyn (2), Jaydynn (1), Jaydan (4), Jayden (209), Jaydon (6), Jaydyn (2). This is not to mention the numerous hyphenated offerings such as Jaiden-James (1), Jaiden-Lee (1), Jayden-Cole (1), Jayden-James (4), Jayden-Lee (1), and Jaydyn-John (1).

 

Predominantly a boy's name, Jayden originated in the US and was largely obscure until the 1990s. It is no coincidence that the name rose in popularity after Britney Spears named her second son Jayden in 2006.

Jayden might not be so grumpy if he knew that he is the bellwether of boys' names in Scotland

Taking inspiration from the names of celebrities is not uncommon. Last year, there were eight Brooklyns, eight Romeos, 11 Cruzes, and five Harpers, recognisable to some as the names of Victoria and David Beckham's children. There was also one Maddox (see son of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt), one Princess (see daughter of Katie Price), Pacey (see pseudo-philosophical teen drama Dawson's Creek), Bruce-Lee (see dead martial arts main man), and Otis (see soul singer Mr Redding – although I've never thought that Otis quite works with white, middle-class children).

But when does aspiration for the lifestyle of a celebrity become confused with pure fan-love? Last year in Scotland, there were 35 Willows, 24 Xanders, one Spike, 20 Angels, and 1 Wolfram. Admittedly, there were no Buffys nor Giles so maybe I'm reading a bit too much into this.

The trend of naming after a place, possibly the place of conception, remains: Dakota (6), Devon (5), Adelaide (2), Indiana (1), Carlisle (1), Alba (18), Caledonia (2), Nevada (1), Trinidad (1), Argyll (1), Israel (1), and Isreal [sic] (1).

At a time when we are witnessing the rampant pinkification of girlhood, it is perhaps not surprising to see Precious (5), Princess (1), and Treasure (2) appearing on the list of girls' names.

As for my favourties on the list, I think there's a lot to be said for a strong name which gives a child instant gravitas. Names taken from mythology and history such as Juno (2), Atlas (1), Cassiopeia (1) and Capitolina (1) will certainly conjure an element of individuality. Standing out from the crowd by virtue of one's name is not always a good thing though. There's no denying that Awesome, Boo-Tiger, Levi-Star, Jesuslovesme, Starlit, Willieboy, Swan, You, and Wolfie might be the only ones with those names in their class at school and may be quite cross about it as they are growing up, wondering why they weren't called something innocuous like Sophie or Jack. 

Atlas' god status meant that he fortunately never suffered from back pain