Over the past five days, my name has attracted unprecedented interest from middle-aged ladies in the customer service industry. From the supervisor at U-Haul who laughed out loud at Hugo about the hilarity of my name as I was lurking between bundles of flat-pack boxes, to the pleasant lady on the phone at PG&E as I was trying to transfer service to the new house (which is awesome, by the way, and the furniture is almost reassembled), who asked me at length about its genesis.
As an attempt to stave off any more speculation, I should state as a matter of record the following points:
1) Gareth is a Welsh name.
2) I am not Welsh, but my father is. (He often wonders aloud where he 'went wrong' with me, his 'half-Welsh' son.)
3) In their Grand Slam season of 1976, the year of my birth, the outstanding player for Wales (and indeed in the world) was their scrum-half, Gareth Edwards. In fact, given the relative timing of the final game of the Five Nations rugby championship and my birthday, it is somewhat likely that the occurrence of the one, directly affected the occurrence of the other, although I have never found the appropriate moment to ask my father about this.
No comments:
Post a Comment