It is a truth, universally acknowledged, that I have very, very little in common with royalty. I love writing about them but the ruling dynasties of the world, past and present, are a long way removed from my origins in the East End. However, as the eighth month of the year reaches its peak in 2021, I am reminded of a strange little bond I share with the current twelfth in line to the throne. For like young Master August Brooksbank, I, too, am named after a month.
Before you start wondering, I know Lydia isn’t the name of a month. Neither is it my real name. I started using one of my granny’s names almost ten years ago for some of my writing and I liked it so much, I’ve stuck with it. But my real name is no secret and I write just as much using that. The glorious moniker of June Woolerton was bestowed on me at birth. Not much to recommend it but it’s mine. And that, August, is where my path and yours briefly meet.
You and I are both part of a strange little club of people who can find their name on the calendar every year without fail. Not that you will be overly excited about that, not now and not in the future. There is a strange disjoint between hearing your own name and hearing it used as what it began as, the name of a month. The two seem very separate but there are reminders. And they will follow you everywhere for the rest of your life.
There are a few things to know about having a month for a name. First are those jokes. June in August? Ha, ha. What’s your name? June? No, it’s July now! Oh, the hilarity. You will learn to laugh at every single one of the times they are told because, to be frank, it’s easier. You will also get used to the follow up which is always along the lines of ‘’I bet you hear that all the time’’. Yes, I do, but it doesn’t appear to have stopped you indulging in yet another turn. September will be hardest for you, August, because the temptation of those without month names to point out that your month name doesn’t match the actual month appears to be at its height immediately after the event.
Coming a close second is that always awkward question for those of us not named after the month we were born in. I have to break it to you now. There is no way of saying you weren’t born in the month whose name you bear without sounding rude. Try it once you are able. Were you born in August? No, I was born in February. Say it deadpan, it sounds sarky. Say it with a smile, it sounds, well, sarky. Say it with a very British bit of bluster and an attempt at self deprecation and it sounds, you’ve guessed it, sarky. Just move the conversation on as quick as you can.
However, that is where part three of the advice kicks in. You might try to start talking about the weather to divert attention but it is all but inevitable someone will then ask you ‘’well, why are you called August?’’ No one bothers to ask people why they are called Amelia or Leo but tell them you are named after a month and they have to know the reason, almost immediately. Admittedly, August, you are better known than me so some people might have heard of your parents delve into Victoriana for their pick. However, those who don’t will ask you with all seriousness to explain why your parents made a decision you had nothing to do with. At all. I bear the name of the sixth month despite being born in the tenth so I just tell everyone my parents couldn’t spell October and leave it at that.
There are perks, too. For a start, it’s rare for a month name to really hit the top of the most given names so you’ll always have a certain individuality. And it does make getting your name across easier because you can always revert to ‘’like the month’’ if faced with questions about spellings. And there is something rather intriguing about having a name that has been around for so long. Our month names have been set in stone for thousands of years and each of them has a resonance for millions of people. In a way, it’s nice to be part of something so universal.
You might need to remember that one September day as you attempt to laugh, for the third time, at the hilarious observation that it is no longer August. Or as you try, once more, to explain you were born in February without offending the person who asked you the question. I think you have a rather lovely name and I wish you well using it. Welcome, August, to the club.
