Names for Strangers

As writers, our minds tend to work overtime a lot of the time. We look at people in the street and wonder how we can write about them. (Or maybe they're all wondering how they can write about us).

Whatever, I tend to invent names for strangers, and wonder if I'm alone in this occupation.

For instance when I first left school there was a bloke called Pard who used to get the same bus as me. He never knew his name was Pard. And come to think of it, if your name was Pard you wouldn't want to know either, would you? In fact, you'd probably be a bit pissed off about it, I suppose. Oh well, @!#$ him.

Anyway, I used to judge whether I was on time for work by the time Pard arrived at the bus stop. It never occured to me that Pard himself could be late.

Just think, almost 30 years later, Pard has no idea that he's being written about on a writers website.

A mate of mine, also a writer, gets the same train as Sanchez every morning. Same story. Sanchez has no idea he's called Sanchez (although I suppose it's preferable to being called Pard). But my mate and his wife judge if they're on time for the train by whether Sanchez is in the parking lot or not.

However, things have now taken a turn for the worse. I find myself making up names for all the mums at my little boy's school. I'll tell you about them.

First of all there's The Erf. And she really is an Erf. She was at the same pre-natal classes with my wife, and even Sue had made up a name for her. She used to call her the She-Monster. Yet the strange thing is that her husband's quite ordinary. He doesn't seem to have noticed. I can't imagine what his mates must think when he first introduces them to her.

Then there's the Everything-Too-Short-Mum. She's a bit stupid, but I can make allowances for that, but why are ALL her clothes too short? All of them - trousers, jackets, jumpers, even her hair. So she's the Everything-Too-Short-Mum.

Then there's the Fat-Ugly-Foul-Mouthed-Mum, which speaks for itself really, doesn't it? She's fat and ugly and foul-mouthed. I've a feeling we're bound to clash at some point in the future.

I could go on. There's the Farmer's Wife, although she's actually really nice. But the funny thing is that some of these mums are actually named after their kids. How on earth did that happen? There's the Angry Kid's mum, the Semi-Angry Kid's mum and the Little Dot's mum.

The worrying thing is what do they call me?

I've been threatening Sue that I'll make up a poem about them all and send it off to the Watford Observer. She's scared stiff in case I actually do it. And the thing is I wouldn't put it past me.

Anyway, does anyone else out there make up names for strangers. Or is it just me?