Me. Changing my name.

I changed my name recently – getting married can do that to you. The thing is, I keep forgetting.

There’s nothing like being unable to place your own name to make other people think you’re an idiot.  It doesn’t help when you forget your address in the same sentence. Bloody forms. Why do they always need your name and address anyway? Stupid passports. You’d have thought a terribly unflattering picture would be enough.

Anyway, when I married the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine I decided not to follow my new husband’s suggestion and call myself Mrs Northern Love Machine. Instead I took his actual name: Weaver.

This is a problem for two reasons. The first is that I harbour secret hopes of one day producing a sister for Frog and “Eva” is one of my favourite names. While the NLM thinks “Eva Weaver” has a certain ring to it, I have to disagree.

The second problem is that I rather like my maiden name. I like the way it gives me an opportunity after a couple of glasses of wine to lie to people about my family’s huge wealth. “Oh ‘Forbes’, yes that’s us. We’ve got the magazine, the castle, everything. We’re stinking rich.” *ahem*

I’ve also grown rather attached to my old name. Molly Forbes is who I am. It’s who I’ve been since the day I was born. Molly Weaver sounds like someone else.

So I’ve decided to keep my old name, sort of. I’ll stay Molly Forbes for work purposes, so the name matches the one on my portfolio of cuttings and demo tapes. But I’ll be Molly Weaver at home. It means I get to have a secret Weaver-related identity. And it also means I get to have the same name as my daughter and husband, without giving up the old one completely.

Is that a cop out though?Am I sitting on the surname fence here? What’s in a name anyway? I’d love to know what you think.

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