Bernard O'Shea: What's in a name? Getting left behind or taking a lover in Urlingford

Having a baby soon? You might spare a thought for Bernard. Ah, go on...

It's how you say the name that counts. I like to think of everyone in a Dundalk accent; it's easier than using a mnemonic device. 

Have you ever considered your name? Do you like it? Have you ever thought about changing it? Would you be adamant about passing it on to your children? Will you leave all your worldly possessions to that favourite niece or nephew who has had the good fortune to have the same name? Do you get annoyed when people forget it, or worse still, call you something entirely different?

For good reasons or bad, the first question we're generally asked by government officials, future partners, game show hosts, and police is: "What's your name?" It's one of the first things we learn as a child. It is with us for our life, yet we don't choose it.

According to the latest figures from the CSO, the most popular girls' names for 2021 were Fiadh, Grace, Emily, Sophie and Éabha. The boys' names were Jack, Noah, James, Conor and Rían. Some dormant old Irish names are also making a comeback. My favourite is Réiltín which means "little star." When I saw that, I thought it was such a beautiful name but would cause the person who has to make PA announcements in international airports havoc in years to come.

Irish names are beautiful but are the bane of many airlines. My sister, Siobhán's name has been announced as Si-o-ba-han and Soban. In fairness, our middle child is called Tadhg and it took me about a year to learn how to spell it correctly without thinking about it.

Next time you're in a souvenir shop, look at the nameplates for kids' bedroom doors. You'll see the most popular names of the day. You won't see too many Bernards. That's because I was named after my maternal grandfather, born in 1903. Back then, it was a relatively popular name, especially in England. As far as I can remember, I was the only Bernard in primary and secondary school. I never knew or bumped into another Bernard in my college years. In fact, the first other Bernard I knew and shook hands with, exchanging the pleasantries "nice to meet you, Bernard", was Karl Spain, the Limerick comedian's father, in 2003 when I supported Karl on a nationwide tour. I've since met several other Bernards, but it's a rare name.

The only time Bernard ever bumped into another Bernard was when he met Karl Spain's dad while they toured their respective comedy shows.

Unlike the Irish and British who pronounce my name as Ber-NERD (Yes, I know the joke "nerd", haha.) North Americans, Antipodeans and South Africans pronounce it Ber– NARD. Which makes it far more sophisticated. I used to joke Ber-NERD gets left behind on school tours. But, Ber-NARD is a well-travelled man of mystery who has lovers in Milan, Paris and Urlingford (I like to keep my fantasies one-third grounded). 

The Germans pronounce it as Bernhard, making me feel like I'm a responsible adult who could design an unseen but essential part of an Audi if needed. But the French say "Bernaaaaaaaar." I wish I paid more attention in French classes in school just so I could saunter up to a hotel reservation counter in France and say "Bonjour Je m'appelle Bernaaaaaaaaaaaar" and then be actually able to converse in French instead of just standing there realising I can't speak or understand a word. (this has happened to me)

When I lived in Dundalk, I was sometimes called "Barney." My mother always said that's what her father was called. Whenever I visited the barber on Avenue Road, he'd greet me with a big "Well, Red Barney, hi, what about ya?" It was the closest I ever came to having some form of a nickname. Then for years, I was called Dermot and Brendan. It didn't help that I worked with a Dermot for years on telly, and I always felt that "Brendan" was close enough, so I'd let it go. In fact, I was called nearly every name under the sun except for Bernard. But I understand why.

A familiar utterance from people is "I'm terrible with names." This is me. I'm so bad at remembering people's names that I will avoid them at all costs if I have to. I can't fob off my ignorance by calling them "champ", "buddy", or "pal". Growing up as a kid, I couldn't bring myself to call someone by their nickname. I don't know why. I just never felt cool enough calling someone by it. It has to be first names and, if needed, second names too. 

Warning! There's a cut-off point. You can't turn around to someone after two weeks or 2 meetings casual or work and ask them their name. I've known someone for 15 years who still calls me Brendan. It's close enough. I can't tell her now. But I'm ok with it. In fact, once, someone tried to tell her it wasn't my name, and I stopped them because she had a relationship with "Brendan." Bernard would have meant nothing to her.

I've been in real-life situations where I'll cancel meetings last minute if I don't know everyone's name in the room. It would not be worth the mental torture of saying to someone, "Sorry, what is your name again?" It seems to me the height of disrespect, especially when they know mine. But Bernard is an easy name to say but very uncommon, so that's why I think people remember mine. There are just not that many Bernards. The relief I feel when the penny drops and I remember them. Then I'll go into an all-out frenzy or name-spraying like my brain is a two-year-old child who's just learned the word "poo" and is determined to tell the entire world.

So after years of trying all the tricks in the book. Repeating their names ten times in my head when they say them. Or using a mnemonic device, like Phil Dunphy in Modern Family does or visualising their faces and names together, none of them worked for me. But one bizarre thing has.

I now remember everyone's name in a Dundalk accent. So if your name is Margaret, I tell my brain to recognise it as Marrrrrrrgrit. Or if it's Thomas, I'll remember it as "Tamas, hi." It's mad, but it works. Also, if you plan on having a baby soon, just remember the name, Bernard. Very few of us left, and if they ever go to Dundalk, they can choose the option of being called Barney, too hi. Réiltín, however, maybe just a tad more beautiful.