An introduction to our writers.
“What’s in a name? Everything, it’s our identity.”
Victoria by Victoria Gray
Is my name my name?
I guess my parents gave it to me, then is it a gift?
It’s mine now.
It’s been on many lists now, but it must be strong because it doesn’t yet feel worn.
It’s quite long, makes me not like saying it, Victoria.
My name is from my parents but I guess I like it too.
Hope by Hope
My name is Hope, but there were two of us ‘til Spring – and for 25 years!
The diagnosis was too late, they said, and our future turned to stone
He fought hard but the cancer had taken charge by then
He was armed with humour, kindness, and determination
Used his positivity and pride as weapons – at the ready – against the onslaught of chemicals and pity
He gave it his all until his final stand in March
I’m still here in the deserted battlefield
But my name is Hope now – just Hope, and for him – my soulmate –
I’ll build my strength and march on.
Mrs Pat by Mrs Pat
My name is Pat. Some call me Patricia. Some, family only, call me Tricia. But all in all I love Pat. My partner is called Pat too so people call us Mr and Mrs Pat.
My name is Pat and I’m 57, I think. I can never remember. I must be the only person to have had two 40ths as the first time I was only 39!
I’m a full time carer to my partner. He was hit in a road traffic accident 16 years ago and our lives were turned upside down.
I worked at a family butchers and as a bouncer on the doors and as a carer – something had to give, so bye bye bouncer.
Owa the years I forgot about me. Hopefully I can get me back.
Did I tell you my name is Pat.
Mary by Mary O’Sullivan-Fawcett
My name is mine and mine alone, I am proud of my name but that wasn’t always the case, I saw my first name as old fashioned and wished, on a daily basis, it was something, in fact anything, else. I have got over myself now I’m pleased to say!
My name, as I’ve proudly told people for years now, was given to me with love, the first born grandchild of my Mother’s parents and the second of my Father’s, I was bestowed with both of my Grandmothers’ names, and that I treasure.
I come from a family of strong, proud, fearless women, women who fought for their right to be recognised and that is something emblazoned in my heart and seared into my mind.
My surname? Here is the story, the first part contains my heritage, my culture, and I love it; almost anyone can immediately identify where it’s roots lie and, because of that, sometimes it has laid me open to hostility, racism and abuse but I have never wavered in my love of it. I vowed never to change it which, in turn, led to many conversations about women changing their names, or not, when they marry.I was determined not to, while, funnily enough, men always assumed I should and would, apart from my Father, a very enlightened man.
The second part of my surname comes from my husband, he supported my decision not to change my name but when we married he was dying so I added his name to mine to honour him and carry him with me through the rest of my life. It was not a difficult decision to make.
My name is frequently, and annoyingly, spelt wrongly, it was even when I only had one surname, sometimes it’s been deliberate and that has been hurtful, I remember a nasty teacher who would miss off the first letter all of the time until I decided to make a stand, she called my parents to sort me out, guess who got sorted.
I also find it beyond belief that in 2021 people blame a computer who can’t spell, yes, really. There are people who wonder what the fuss is about until I miss the first letter off their own surname to make a point. People still do not understand that all names are important, that in them parents give their love and hope for better things to come. That in becoming who you are, and who you want to be, you may wish to give yourself a new name, possessing who you are for all to see.
That when you can be stripped of everything that matters to you the only thing you have left is your name and the pronunciation and spelling of it becomes so important. Your name gives you the dignity to carry yourself, hold your head high and be given the respect you deserve.
So wear your name with pride, it is a gift. My name is Mary Ellen O’Sullivan-Fawcett and yes, my surname contains three capital letters, one apostrophe and a hyphen.
Please don’t forget that, they are important, they’re part of my name and I am a proud Irish Geordie.
Tony by Tony Moore
Well, my name – legally I suppose – is Anthony Joseph Moore!
But what the hell does all that mean?
I call myself Tony – most others do – and that is more than enough for anyone that matters. I have had quite a few friendly nicknames and one or two that were, perhaps not so friendly – and quite abusive – but I like that – in fact I love it – I love a bit of brutality in humour – but I am careful to whom I toss it back at – I tend to say that if I insult you – it means I like you!
Beware if I am pleasant to you!
As I say – Tony is fine – My second and last names however – Joseph and Moore are quite a different issue.
For most of my life – I was told that my grandfather was Joe Moore – and I was named after him. I never met him – but I never heard nothing but good things about him.
Towards the end of my dad’s life, however, I found out more about him – and that he was not my granddad after all!
He was also not always the goodly figure that all had reported.
I also found out that my father was adopted– and that he had a brother! I got to meet him before dad died.
Yeah – what’s in my name?
Well, I will take Tony – would ditch the Joseph – and if my father had had his real father’s name, Marshall, or his mother’s husband’s name, House, then I would probably feel a fairer reflection would be to call myself Tony House-Marshall!
Why not?
Tony indeed if said and heard backwards is Why Not!
Irene by Irene Mantey
My name is Irene and I’m ‘bleep bleep’ years old or maybe, even young. My name is Greek and means peace: It goes with my personality.
I used to have a Saturday night name when I went out socialising with friends. It was ‘Katy’. I thought Irene sounded dated and Katy sounded cool. I may have been deluded or even been a fool!
I had a different change of name when I transferred to secondary school but this time it wasn’t a choice, it was imposed on me! I didn’t like it.
Let me tell you the tale. On the first day the teacher called the register and named me Irene(rhymes with bikini). I wasn’t very confident but took a deep breath and bravely put up my hand. I then said, politely ‘My name is Irene’(rhymes with polystyrene). The teacher responded promptly telling me I would be known as Irene – rhymes with bikini.
What’s in a name?
Everything, it’s our identity.
Arijus by Arijus Balaisis
Arijus.
I came to England in 2011. Autumn time, first of October. I’m coming to England.
The beginning was very hard.Everything takes time. Insurance, CS Card. A lot of jobs in London, it’s no problem. I work in the Olympic village. Construction job. What is next? Every Friday, wage. Every Saturday is drinks, pubs, clubs.
I went from London to Hexham. I came to Hexham in 2017. I stayed in the programme for three years. I then got flat on Scrogg Road. 52, I like Newcastle better than London. There’s more crime in Newcastle, stabbings, shootings, Walker can be hard.
I’m going to college to learn English language on Wednesday.
I’m going to learn a trade.
I’m doing okay with alcohol now.
I don’t drink and I don’t smoke.
I have a few friends, but they’re in London.
I feel good, looking forward to the future.
Everybody’s got stories, good, bad, that’s life.
Kaye by Kaye
My name is Kaye. In my life I thought that every woman went through abuse because that’s all I’d experienced throughout my life till 2012. I’ve got seven children, five boys and two girls but because of domestic violence they moved out or were taken away from me and I don’t see them. My youngest one is 14 and she was taken off me at birth, my oldest is 31. According to him I’m dead to him because social services never had any intention of putting me back the kids cause at the time I was so affected by my mental health.
There are times when it’s really hard. when I eventually broke down and I explained everything about my past, it felt like the world had been lifted off my shoulders because I’d bottled it up and bottled it up and I’ve had two complete breakdowns, I don’t want to have a third because if I have a third I know I won’t be coming out.
The first lockdown was really hard, it impacted quite severely on my mental health. But thanks to Denny and some mental health outreach workers I’m starting to go out more. I go to Knit and Natter, at the moment I’m knitting premature baby hats. That’s my way to give back, I don’t have any money, I don’t have that much to give. But doing the premature baby hats gives me a sense of achievement, a sense of doing something that I’ve done myself that I’m proud of.
I’ve posted one box off to me mate and some cuddly toys. I’ve done cushions but I’m just in a better place now. I would be lying if I said it wasn’t hard, it’s very hard. It’s nice to be able to talk to somebody to try and explain how I’m feeling but I know that if I told you everything that happened to me you’d be shocked.
If I was ever able to write down my life story it would be more like a horror story. I do get really emotional but I’m trying to learn to live with it, to cope. I do find it really hard to trust people but thanks to Deni, I’m finding it easier. They take me shopping, they help me mix with other people, people who aren’t going to judge me.
Pat by Pat Spence
I was born at 6 Westbourne Avenue, Walker, on Feb 19.1934, the second daughter for Jennie and Charlie Collins. Aged 6 months my family moved to 10X block, Rochester Dwelling. Nearby lived my grandparents Abigail and WIlliam. My father was on the dole. My grandfather worked for the gas board. We were poor but never went without thanks to grandparents and a loving Aunt Laura.
My mothers sister, 1931, brought another sister to share our one bedroom flat, which was very modern having an inside nath (in the kitchen with a wooden bench over it plus an indoor toilet).
I went to West Walker, 1939. We were going to be Evacuated. We all had a trial walk to Walker station. Then ‘the day’ came and we were marched to the station with out gas masks in cardboard cases and our kitbags – these were made with cushion covers and shoulder straps made by my Mam. We got on the train and off we went to Stocksfield. We were given a paper carrier bag with tinned corned beef and some other food to take to our new homes. It was like an adventure! At Stocksfield school we were handed over to our hosts.
My my sister Betty and I went to a Mr and Mrs Graham.
They had a bay daughter and a maid. We ate in the kitchen with the maid. One day she cooked the cauliflower without washing it and found a caterpillar after she’d already served it! I was able to play with baby Elizabeth (About 1 year old). Mrs Graham wasn’t very nice to Betty and made her do the dishes before school.
After a year we moved homes, Betty going to the Reads family and me to the Trumans. These two families were in-laws (Mr Truman and Mrs Read were brother and sister). The Reads had a daughter the same age as Betty and two older sons. The Trumans had a daughter that I shared a room with. We were treat like family. I got very ill with mumps, jaundice and German measles when I was there. I remember Mrs Truman looking in her medical book and being horrified when she told me I had German measles in a war against the Germans! We went to school, made friends, got snowed in, went sledging.
We did have visits to Mam and Dad. Dad was now in the Air Raid Precaution wardens, patrolling at night. Mam worked in the naval yards with lots of other women.
Betty passed the 11 plus exam and we had to move home for her to attend highschool. Another sister was born and we moved to a two bedroom house at 10 X block. The war ended in 1945 and another sister was born 17th August of that year.
We were very lucky we had a good childhood, never without food, clothing or toys. Mam made all our clothes, knitted jumpers, scarves etc. We also got lots of gifts grom Aunt Laura, who worked in the Navy, Army and Air Force Institute in London.
Amy by Amy Jane Dixon
My name is Amy. Amy Jane. I am so lucky; I chose it. It is all mine, it has never belonged to anyone else; it is me. Whenever I hear or see it: in conversation, within letters, wherever, I feel whole and complete. I feel warmth, I feel free. I love my name.
When I look in the mirror,I see Amy; physically and physiognomically atypical, even perverse; yet beautiful – like a tree in blossom with buds still to flower, like a child on the cusp of adulthood : still growing, waiting to bloom.
I see a life lit by thoughts and feelings, by people and times, by hopes and dreams, by love and loss.
I see Amy – I see me – as amazing, wonderful and perfect as a newborn. A first glimpse of spring.
C.H by C.H
Well was – called
Full of regret from a life full of stress
Blamed, named and shamed even sometimes called useless
I test my name today, to try to really do its best
Now gone is the demon drink and the weeds of distress
Today I like my name – really, I do, yes
What my name will be tomorrow, is anyone’s guess
It’s been changed – rearranged, just like playing a board of chess
My hidden name of addiction within, really does have nothing left –
My actual name is C.H, just to get that off my chest
I appreciate you all, for this I must confess
So now my name is called ‘may I pass it right or left”.
Pat by Pat Stott
I am the eldest of five children, my sister is a year younger than me, a brother arrived four years later and when I was fourteen another two brothers arrived. I was so happy to have babies to care for and remain particularly close to the youngest who I feel is most like me in his nature.
It makes me sad that they all now live too far away for me to be a real part of their everyday lives, especially over the last two years. I would love to be able to ring one of them up and meet for a coffee and a chat.
My father came from a musical family, my grandfather had owned a music shop in the Midlands. Dad played the piano but was never able to teach any of his family of five to do likewise. I don’t remember this shop, my grandfather was an old man when I was born and I only have vague memories of time spent with him. I never knew my grandmother as she had died at a young age.
Dad was an only child, he served in the navy during World War 2 and liked to talk about the camaraderie he found there. He was very much a ‘people person’ and spent most of his working life as a sales representative in the leather trade. I too have a need to be with people and enjoy some of the things he did, writing, travel, intellectual challenges – cryptic crosswords are a passion.
There may be a little bit of me that strives to fit in and be accepted in my organisations as he appeared to be in his. I don’t always have his confidence. He was not perfect, there are some skeletons but I will leave them in the cupboard where they belong.
Mum had a hard life particularly in her later years, money was always very short when I was growing up, reading her diaries after she died brought home to me how much she had struggled. And the reason why.
My maternal grandparents were a big part of my life growing up and I loved spending holidays with them in their colliery house, a cycle ride from the seaside.
She loved having all the family around her at Christmas time and I was lucky to have a husband who understood my need to be part of it.
It wasn’t the same after she died, we tried to continue but the focal point was no longer there and after two years we decided to make our own traditions in whatever way worked for us.
I was the one who supported her through and after an acrimonious divorce. I still feel guilt that I delayed going to her before she died, I had planned to look after her when she returned home from hospital – this never happened.
So where do I fit into my family. An elder sister, aunt, great aunt to a growing family. And I have to be happy with this.
Albeit it from a distance.
