I never know whether I have a person’s real name or not. People here seem to have several. You could be called by your father’s name, a pet name, your family surname or a name completely not connected to anything you could guess. This, I can tell you is very confusing for a girl not used to knowing so many people in one geographic area.

Take Baby and Sonny for example. Can I call the local Baby woman Baby without sounding, well, creepy? How are you today, Baby? You’re looking well Baby. Isn’t it just a bit forward for addressing a neighbour? I mean, she’s not my Baby. And Sonny? It’s such a cute name, I wish it would stick to my youngest son but can I call my septuagenarian relative Sonny coming out of Mass?

The name thing really keeps getting me into trouble. Just today, one such name dumbfounding situation arose. A neighbour was doing a bit of work around the house for me. My cultural attaché on all dilemmas urbano-rural was milking the cows and so I was left alone wondering what I should call my lovely neighbour. Asking his name wasn’t as straight forward as it might have seemed. It might have come across, well, impolite, considering I’ve been his neighbour this while.

I was pretty sure the name I knew him by might be a bit insulting if I were going to call it to him straight to his face. It’s a lesson I learned in the most excruciatingly embarrassing way previously and was no way inclined to go there again.

So, I’m standing in the kitchen with my neighbour, wondering what I should call him. You know yourself, when it’s a neighbour and someone who is also working in the house, he’ll have to have tea. Most probably with a scone. I digress.

‘Won’t you have a cup of tea B, b, b, so?’

‘Do you take sugar eh, eh eh with that?’

‘It’s great weather for ducks isn’t it S, s, s?’

Twenty minutes discussing all matters agricultural, political, weatherwise without me ever mentioning his name. My neighbour departed without, I’m hoping, ever noticing that I hadn’t called him by his name.

When you’re a ‘blow-in’ to the area and you have a village, a townland and their first cousin’s name to remember (not to mention who’s related to who, dear God) you get a bit of lee-way on the name remembering front. Ah God help us, she’s from the city don’t you know. Though I may not get away with it for much longer. But hey Baby, go easy on me, after all, what’s in a name?