Tuesday, November 20, 2007


We spent months agonising over what to call our baby. I spent hours compiling lists of names on sites like www.babynames.co.uk, while Tanya flicked through enormous books trying to find something suitable. As regular readers of this blog will know, we also held an online poll. Then with the birth approaching and nerves setting in we switched names on a daily basis, throwing out all our hard work and in a state of panic resolving to name our baby according to the board at the local supermarket which announced each Saint’s Day.

Finally the moment arrived and as both of us looked down on our new born, the name Elodie popped on to Tanya’s lips. It just seemed right. Or so we thought. Within days there were problems. I made my first trip to the village and visited all the gossip centres to announce the birth - the Boulangerie, the tabac and the local café.

“We had a little girl called Elodie,” I proclaimed to a puzzled silence. “Elodie,” I repeated proudly. “Elodie”

It took three goes with each person before the name was repeated back to me with the sing song lyricism of a proper French accent - “Elodie.”

It sounded completely different, pretty and enchanting, and it was then I realised that I would never be able to pronounce my daughter’s name properly.

But at least I did better than some. Shortly after the birth I received several emails from friends of my parents congratulating us rather cryptically on the birth of baby “LOD”. Most of the emails went on to compliment us on such an unusual choice of name. Tanya and I sat at the computer screen completely flummoxed - “LOD.”

Later that evening I spoke to my father, how is “Elodie” he asked.

Only he didn’t quite say that, in fact without a hint of a French accent, our daughter’s new name came out rather differently

“What did you tell your friends our baby was called?” I asked.

“L O D” he repeated proudly enunciating each syllable.

Meanwhile on the weather front, it’s been snowing in the Luberon - see pictures right.