FORGET KEITH, TRY SYRIA

By Keith Newbery - Friday, March 14, 2008

A Decca Type 80 radar, similar to the equipment which was a familiar sight above Ventnor.

THIS ISLAND LIFE
THE evolution of the humble British forename has always held a certain fascination.
When I was at school, the classroom seemed to be filled with Brendas, Angelas, Davids, Nigels, Peters and Margarets. There were quite a few Keiths as well (Ingram and Hailes spring to mind) but it was never a name I cared for much.
I never knew where my mother got it from, especially as it’s supposed to mean ‘woodland’ or ‘forest’ in Gaelic and the nearest she had come to Scotland at the time was a tin of shortbread every Christmas.
I later discovered Keiths are supposed to be emotional, kind, sensitive, intelligent, smart, always exceptionally well presented, charmingly down to earth and with a wacky sense of humour.
Well, two out of eight is not bad, but the name lost what vestige of credibility it still possessed when a couple of herberts wrote The Chicken Song, which contained the devastating lines:
Paint your left knee green, then extract your wisdom teeth,
Form a string quartet and pretend your name is Keith.
There is no coming back from that. However, when I looked through the entries for the CP’s Child of the Year competition last week, it became clear the common names of my childhood faded into bland insignificance compared to the exotic creations soon to be entered in some school registers.
I think we should just accept the fact all the little kids in the competition are lovely, and vote for their names instead. Judging criteria should include innovation and imagination, in which case Kaan-Cyril must be in the running, with Lexi-Louise, Rios and Jessie-Mai.
Also in contention are Amberina, Lollie, Precious, Harmony and Mason-Reggie. Coming up on the rails are Jeunais, Lochlann, Jorja and Syria. The last two are especially interesting because they have added a geographical dimension to naming children (if only phonetically in one case) and I wonder how long it will be before other countries, counties or states are recruited to help the cause. Rutland Rogers has a certain ring to it, as does Ohio O’Hegarty or Lebanon Lewis.
I have to admit the one little chap who stood out like an English oak in the colourful and exotic undergrowth was called Trevor. For that reason alone he would have got my vote but family duty calls.
If you’re not sure who to vote for, can I suggest you consider number 149? He’s a handsome young fellow by the name of James Newbery, and the fact he happens to be my great-nephew is neither here nor there.

A NEW SITE ON THE RADAR
THE recent article in this corner of the newspaper about the nostalgic cine film on YouTube featuring the Island in the fifties and sixties, stirred quite a bit of interest. It’s clear we baby boomers are delighted to have good old days of our own to look back on.
We are not all silver surfers, however, and several people have mentioned they are estranged from computers and happy to remain that way. So I have a suggestion for Stuart Crabb, who placed these wonderful old clips on the internet.
There’s a few bob to be made if you turn them into a CD ready for the Christmas market. Your audience awaits.
Don Adams, of Totland, also got in touch to tell me about the website he has compiled about the history of Ventnor radar station. It can be found on www.ventnorradar.co.uk and hugely fascinating it is as well.
I suspect there are many Islanders, like me, who have strolled over Boniface Down and wondered exactly what secrets lay beneath their feet. Well, now you can find out because there is a site map of the underground complex — known to its inhabitants as ‘The Hole’.
As the Cold War appears ready to warm up again, you can find out where David Pugh, Joe Duckworth and all the other wise and wonderful people who guide our immediate destiny will head for at the first sign of an incoming missile.

WHAT'S GOOD ABOUT FRIDAY?
IF IT'S wall-to-wall grumpiness you want, head for the Riverside Centre in Newport on Good Friday evening, where the Barton Boneheads will be holding their 25th anniversary reunion.
Brian Greening assures me only high-quality moaners will be admitted and the air will be filled with grouses ranging from the way modern footballers speak to the inconsiderate yobs who cycle on pavements.
Brian intends to do a roaring trade in Grumpy Old Person badges, which continue to sell well. We have now raised more than £600 for the stroke unit at St Mary’s, and Winter’s Garage at Havenstreet actually sold out. However, they have received fresh supplies of the badges, which can also be obtained from The County Press Shop in Newport.

FORGET KEITH, TRY SYRIA

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