What's in a name...

As you may know, Pete and I are getting married in April next year which raises all sorts of interesting new topics of conversation to our dinner table here in Australia. The wedding for one, how soon after to have kids, getting together our home deposit and most recently who’s last name to take.

Last Friday after a couple of drinks with the team at work we headed down to a cracking restaurant in Main Beach for a bottle of wine and some of the best pork belly money can buy. The name issue is raised. Funnily enough, Pete wants us all to have Harrow, my counter offer is to blow off tradition and all take Connolly, Pete looks at me like I’ve just farted in his mouth. I attempt a softer approach, why don’t we stick with our original surnames and I’ll concede the kids to be Harrows. The farts still there. Fair enough I think, let’s try and reason this one out.

Why do you want to keep Connolly he says?

I could give you a thousand reasons I reply,

well just give me 5 he says. Ok I think, easy.

It’s part of my identity, everything I’ve done since I was born is attached to Amber Connolly, every award, sporting achievement, first bike, first kiss, was as a Connolly, I like Connolly, Amber Connolly sounds better than Amber Harrow I says.

While I’m talking he’s holding up his fingers counting off my points. I get to the end of my blurt and he’s waving 3 triumphant fingers in the air.

I gave way more reasons than 3 I says!

Nup, replies pete, the first 6 were all the same reason.

Fine! I say, give me 5 reasons why I should become a Harrow that aren’t just to do with an ancient tradition that has no place in todays society.

Easy he says. Holding out his finger counters again he begins.

H…he ponders….H is for happiness, the happiness we will share as a married couple under the name harrow, he smiles broadly at his cleverness. A… A is for awesome, the awesome children we will have that will all be called harrow.

I see where he’s going with this, and return his smug smile, clever you I say counting off the letters of H-A-R-R-O-W on my fingers, at the end of your acrostic poem you’ll have six reasons.

We laugh and take another sip of wine.

P, he says, P is for parents, the great parents we will be…. WHHAAAT? HOLD ON!

I put up my hand, there’s no P in Harrow I screech! Pete looks confused, he looks at the table then up to my face again and says sheepishly, I forgot what I was talking about, I thought I was spelling H-A-P-P-Y he says and smiles goofily.

BAHAHAHAHAHAAAA I laughed so hard it was boarding on hysterical and tears had collected on my lashes, ‘Now that,’ I squeak between guaffs, ‘is a reason worth taking harrow for’.