MOST of us answer to different names depending on time of life or who is talking to us and I'm no exception – not counting those applied for specific incidents in my writing career or on a football pitch.
I had more in mind being known as Fordyce to most, but Dyce to my parents and extended family, Max at school and college or, best of all, Dad. Now there's another to add to the list although it will be a few months before the only person at present e
ntitled to say it will be able to.
Yes, it took some time, but we are now a grandfather, or in Liz's case a grandmother, which is almost as important. Jacqueline and Britain's loveliest baby girl – I was going to say "the world's", but the last thing I want is to be accused of exaggeration – are both well, her husband Nolan still beaming, and the maternal grandmother still hyper.
Me? Relaxed and laid back as ever as time ticked past the due date, past the popular choice of date within the family for arrival, past my more pessimistic nomination, past even the furthest outlying date picked by one of Jacq's teaching colleagues in the staffroom sweepstake.
All I noticed was that my right eye had started twitching, I jumped a little higher every time the phone rang and my insomnia got worse. I also thought I became more tetchy than usual, but no one else seemed to notice.
Apart from tetchiness, Liz topped all that at a canter. She managed to out-jump me at every ringtone and started adding her own sound effects. Over the last few nights she didn't seem to sleep at all as, like Felix in The Odd Couple, even her hair clenched.
We all knew – none better than Jacq as days of long walks, gentle exercises and relaxing baths went past – that there was a baby in there. But, clearly comfortable and happy, it took her 11 days longer than expected to emerge, by which time Jacq was muttering along the lines of: "How long did you say elephants stay pregnant?"
I thought of mentioning that we too had an uncomfortable last few days in a sultry summer waiting for her to arrive, particularly for me. Liz was only having a baby, I had an abscess under a tooth.
When Jacq did arrive she was an extremely wakeful and alert baby, especially from about midnight to four in the morning. On the credit side, without those two years of standing up in the farm cottage kitchen rocking a pram one-handed I wouldn't have read so many books.
Jacq's daughter could be the same. After the 11-day delay, she arrived in a rush and at a few days old is already behaving like a teenager – awake most of the night, sleeping during the day. The way her brows gather when worried or disgruntled also looks familiar. And, according to Jacq, she has inherited genes from both families for a healthy appetite.
I think I'll enjoy being a grandfather if not necessarily being called that. Or grandad. Or granpaw. Or gramps. Or Methuselah.
On the other hand I can't help feeling that, like her mother, lovely little Ebba Susan will wind me round her little finger and call me what she likes.
The full article contains 571 words and appears in Scotland On Sunday newspaper.
