A Geoff by any other name would smell as sweet.

You know, I have often asked my parents how I got my name.

The middle names (yes, names plural) are easy. My maternal and paternal grandfathers. As is family tradition (although not for girls. Never understood that). My younger brother (the only one of my siblings with whom I share enough genes for a good match on a kidney transplant) took his paternal and maternal (yes, they switched the order) grandfather’s second names for his middle names.

I got Victor Edward, he got Laurence Henry.

But where “Geoffrey” came from, I’ve never had a satisfactory answer. My father wanted to call me Paul, my mother wanted to call me Graham, they compromised on Geoffrey. Is the story I got.

I don’t care to think too deeply about my mother’s sex life, so I’ve not enquired on that path. But I am fairly certain I know that I don’t want to know the answer.

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