Personal: Sorry about the bad taste

First of all I would like to offer my sincerest apologies to anyone out there who found that the subject of my last blog left them with a bad taste in their mouth. It was not my intention to embarras or to shock or be distasteful. I was merely musing on nicknames. I will try to give Pete and Mrs. Tiggywinkle no more exposure on my blogging than is absolutely neccessary. Some things are better left to the imagination.

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A funny thing happened the other night. My doorbell went so I left my flat, on the ground floor, and answered the front door. It was the police!

"Mr.M.....?", they asked.

"Oh shit", I thought. What could this be?

"We're here for your son."

"I don't have a son.", I told them. "I think you must be mistaken."

"We're here for S....".

"No S.... here", says I.

Then it dawned on me what was happening. New tenants had moved into the top floor flat. A father and son. The son is in his early 20's and the father is about my age. They and I share a Celtic name. This name is spelled in various ways depending on what part of the British Isles you are from. Their name and mine sound the same but are spelled differently. These names are tribal and predate all written history. So, anyway, I sent them to the flat upstairs. Not long afterwards they left.

The funny thing is this: That was the first time ever in my life that the police had come to my door looking for a person named M..... and it wasn't me!!!

I am getting old.