I am privileged to be named after my two grandfathers. “Granda Granda Vintage” gets strange looks when I’m asked for my full name by the Vagrancy Patrol when I’ve dozed off in a puddle of my ain pish on Mugiemoss Road.
It’s “James” really, after my crofting granda who was a great pal. My other granda’s name is my first name. He came back from five years in Stalag XXA in 1945, radicalised by the experience and was a fiery trade unionist in the railway industry. Ma said that he became a huge Elvis fan when he heard him on the wireless around ‘56. He died in August 1960, aged 58, and I’m happy to say that I can remember him.
Ohno and Jormungand will confirm that the co-owner’s family are freaks (including Ohno) in that THEY ARE ALL KNOWN BY THEIR MIDDLE NAMES. Witchcraft afoot, I think.