‘Shall we begin,’ enthused my father as he rocked me in his arms.

Nurse Lovely, having at last finished clearing the heap of brown wrapping paper from the front room floor, nodded keenly. 

Mother did not reply.  Instead all that could be heard from the adjoining kitchen was the creak of cupboards and a rustle of boxes. 

‘Dear?’ persisted father eager as he was to get things underway.  ‘Are you ready?’

I too gurgled impatiently.

Suddenly and without warning mother thrust her head through the curtain of coloured beads that divided the kitchen from the front room.  ‘Not yet,’ she snapped.

‘Would you like any help, Mrs Bont?’ smiled Nurse Lovely tentatively.

‘No,’ she snapped more snappily than before and then glared at Nurse Lovely as if her presence on this planet was a complete mystery let alone why she was standing in her front room clutching a pile of scrunched up brown wrapping paper.

Nurse Lovely gazed hopefully towards father.  Father shrugged at me.  I looked towards mother.  Too late, without even a glance in our direction, she had retreated beyond the coloured beads where she once more resumed her rummaging.

At this point I think it would be most timely and considerate to confess to mother’s one great vice in life.  Now I don’t want you jumping to any distasteful suppositions that mother was a closet drinker, took snuff or tended to breathe deeply at petrol stations and the like as I don’t believe that she ever indulged in any such or similar activities in her entire life.  No, mother’s one great vice in life was exotic tea and at this moment she was anxiously trying to select the very flavour that would best compliment her current mood.  With hindsight I can now recognise that she may have been feeling a little stressed in the circumstances what with father appearing out of the blue (or should I say from behind a taut red moustache), having a stranger in the house in the shape of Nurse Lovely and not least coping with my very self.  So I can only hope that you too can forgive mother’s need for a little indulgence at this moment in time.

‘Should I go?’ asked Nurse Lovely barely audible above mother’s increasingly frantic rummaging.

‘Don’t be daft,’ reassured father as he scrunched up his face and made me chuckle loud and long.

Soon however my laughter was drowned out by mother’s shrieks as a dozen boxes of teabags clattered from cupboard to kitchen floor followed by a solitary tin of canned food. 

‘Should I help?’ asked Nurse Lovely gingerly stepping closer to the beaded curtain.

‘If you wish,’ father replied before scrunching his face at me again.

‘Mrs Bont,’ said Nurse Lovely quietly parting the beads.  ‘Are you sure I can’t help?’

‘Ahhh, Cumbrian Poppy,’ came mother’s somewhat unexpected reply as the recent spillage had succeeded in revealing the very exact flavour of tea to compliment her current state of mind.

‘Ready dear,’ suggested father.

‘Yes, if you must,’ replied mother ducking through the beaded curtain as she dreamily inhaled the freshly released aromas.

‘At long last,’ said father laying me down upon the sofa.  ‘It is time.’

At long last I thought as I bubbled with excitable anticipation.

It was at this moment that father stood in the centre of the front room, nobly thrusting his chin forwards and his brow upwards, before gazing upon all before him.

‘The naming of one’s child should not be taken lightly,’ declared father not at all lightly.  ‘It is an act that will echo through their life and into the lives of all they encounter.  This name will serve to influence their actions and their deeds and will undoubtedly reverberate through the lives of their immediate descendants and into ages far beyond.’

Mother did not say anything contented as she was sipping at her tea.

I have to say that I was quite taken in with the majesty of the moment although to be honest I did not truly appreciate the privilege of actually being witness to the process of my naming (indeed some of you out there, without naming names, would undoubtedly have wished that you had the opportunity to be present and therefore influence the decision that your parents made when naming you… don’t you Bluebell, Anthrax and Nigel).

‘My first suggestion for the boy’s name is,’ paused father dramatically before clearing his throat. 

'What are the instructions?' interrupted mother between sips of tea.

‘Instructions?’ replied father gazing at both Nurse Lovely and myself in hope of some assistance.  ‘Instructions, let’s see.’ 

I guess father should really have known that mother would require a clear set of instructions before doing anything she had not done before because that is what she always did require.  You see a proper understanding of the basics, from terms and conditions for competitions in the Carparkchurch North Free Courier through to microwave instructions on the back of cereal boxes, made it easier for her to cope with life and all of its daily challenges.  In many ways I can readily understand the logic of mother’s  approach, although I must admit that I have always tended to be more like my father (as you will readily discover) and only resort to reading the instructions when I have no longer got a clue of how to proceed. 

‘Yes what are the instructions?’ slowly repeated mother being more than aware of father’s usual disregard for such matters.

Father was not to be caught out though especially as he had now had sufficient time to think things through and undoubtedly make some instructions up. 

'Simple,’ he said simply.  ‘Each of us in turn must think of potential names for the young boy, write them down upon the back of this box here and then we can all decide which is best.'

‘Brilliant,’ laughed Nurse Lovely and I laughed too.

‘Oh,’ yawned mother draining the teacup empty before ducking back through the coloured beads in need of a quick refill.

Ignoring mother’s absence father pulled open his jacket to reveal a multitude of pens in his inner pocket from which he selected a blue marker.  ‘Zeus, the God of Gods,’ he exclaimed as he grabbed the box that had recently housed the Deluxe Cradle With Auto Rocker and enthusiastically wrote the name down.

Not bad for starters I thought to myself.  Not bad.

‘Any ideas yet dear?’ asked father. 

‘Not yet,’ said mother who I could see just beyond the beaded curtain reading the instructions on a red box of tea whilst she waited for the kettle to reboil.

‘I like the theme of Greek Gods,’ enthused father who poised with pen was quite undeterred by mother’s disinterest.  ‘Let’s think, Poseidon or Ares?’  

‘What about Ben?’ suggested Nurse Lovely in a lovely kind of way that certainly made it my favourite so far.

‘Ben,’ repeated father writing the name down.  ‘Anything from you yet, dear?’

‘Regular,’ said mother without lifting her gaze.

‘Regular?’ asked father.  ‘Are you sure that's a name?’

‘Yes,’ said mother.  ‘It has a nice feel.’

‘If you say dear,’ said father and obediently added Regular to the list.  ‘What about Hermes?  Hermes!  Best so far I think you have to agree.’

‘How about Anthony or Alexander,’ suggested Nurse Lovely, which indicated that she had a tendency to confuse her knowledge of ancient history with that of mythology.

‘Mmm,’ said father who never confused history with mythology.  ‘Let's try capital cities instead.  Rio that’s a good one and Washington or Prague.’

‘Basildon,’ called out mother just as the kettle began to boil.

‘Basildon is not a capital city,’ corrected father correctly.

‘It is in many people's minds,’ declared mother.  ‘The people's capital of the Home Counties.’

‘But you can't call the boy Basildon,’ winced Nurse Lovely. 

‘Why ever not?’ said mother thrusting her head back through the coloured beads.

‘Basildon Bont.  It sounds like advertising,’ explained Nurse Lovely.

‘It may earn more than its father then,’ replied mother as she stepped back into the front room with a steaming cup of Ty-phoo (I expect the cheque in the post soon) and sat besides me upon the sofa.

I must say that at this moment in time I had never felt happier in all my life sitting there besides mother whilst father happily wrote down as many capital cities as he could recall.  Mother did not say much as she sipped at her tea but she seemed calm in herself.  Only Nurse Lovely seemed unnecessarily embarrassed that she may be intruding on such a touching scene of domestic bliss.

‘I should really be going,’ said Nurse Lovely stepping towards the hallway.

‘Hold a tick…  Dar Es Salaam, Caracas and…,’ pleaded father who continued to write as he spoke.  ‘We’ve got to decide yet.’

‘But really I must,’ implored Nurse Lovely.

‘Enough… probably, anyway,’ said father thrusting the pen back inside his jacket pocket.  ‘You can’t go now.’

‘Okay, just two minutes more,’ nodded Nurse Lovely patiently. 

Without further delay father presented the huge cardboard box that had once housed the Deluxe Cradle With Auto Rocker and which was now crammed with more potential names than you could ever imagine to both Mother and Nurse Lovely.  'I think we have enough to choose from now, don't you dear?'

‘I don't know,’ said mother.  ‘I don't like any of them.’

‘Oh,’ said father disappointedly.  ‘Not any?’

‘No,’ she yawned as she tucked her feet onto the sofa besides me.  ‘And I need to get my P & Q.’

‘And I really must go,’ insisted Nurse Lovely stepping out into the hallway once more.

‘Just wait,’ urged father as he picked me up and hurriedly followed Nurse Lovely to the front door. 

It was then, fully out of sight of mother, that I observed father huddle close to Nurse Lovely and urgently whisper something in her ear and then she did likewise back.  However hard I tried I could not make out a single word that was said between them but what I do know was that seconds later Nurse Lovely stepped back into the front room and made one final bold suggestion.

‘How about calling the boy Freddie,’ suggested Nurse Lovely boldly.

‘Perfect,’ exclaimed Father.  ‘Freddie I love it, there's something special about it.  Don't you think dear?’

‘If you say,’ yawned mother who was already fully stretched across the sofa and whose eyes were all but shut.

‘That’s it then,’ declared father triumphantly.  ‘Freddie he shall be.’

I have to admit that I still favoured Zeus but if Freddie was good enough for my father then it was good enough for me.

‘Goodbye Freddie,’ smiled Nurse Lovely and departed.

‘Goodbye,’ I gurgled delightedly at the sound of my very own name and wriggled contentedly in my father's arms.

‘Bont,’ said mother as she to my great astonishment sat bolt upright in the sofa before staring accusingly at father.  ‘You better be going too Bont.’

‘Yes, I guess I better,’ agreed father.  ‘Let me just say goodbye to young Freddie before I do.’

‘If you must,’ replied mother with a glare of drowsy contempt.  ‘But don't you ever let me catch you trying to addle its brains.’

‘Of course not dear,’ said father as he carried me back to the privacy of the hallway. 

For a moment I felt unbearably saddened at the thought that it was already time for my father to leave, yet young as I was I had already sensed that there was more than a little friction between my parents and it was maybe for the best.  I did not cry aloud though as deep down I knew that my father would be back soon and I begun to look forward to that moment before he had even gone.

‘Now before I do go,’ father said quietly.  ‘I want you to know the truth.’

I gazed into his eyes expectantly and he gazed fondly back into mine.

‘Now the truth is very special and it will take you many years to properly comprehend,’ whispered father.

‘Bont, haven't you gone yet,’ mumbled mother sleepily.

‘Just going dear,’ replied father as he unlatched the front door before stepping quietly back into the front room to check that mother, whose eyes were firmly closed, was totally unaware of what he was about to say.  It was safe.  She was breathing deeply and nothing would wake her now until the moment she chose to do so. 

‘Freddie, listen to me carefully,’ he whispered into my ear.  ‘Your actual full name is Friedrich Von Sevastopal de Bonte.  Yes that’s right Freddie and you are the Junior Admiral of the Port of Tridinadia and the Rightful Heir to the Throne of all of Auratania.’ 

I gurgled happily at his words although to be honest I really did not know how to properly respond to such unexpected news and decided that a simple smile would suffice. 

‘But I must go now,’ he whispered.  ‘I will explain it all when I can.’

It was then, as my father placed me back upon the sofa next to my sleeping mother, that I felt a tear drip from his cheek onto mine and all too soon he was gone.