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A Name That Starts With X, or a Pet Name Copywriter

In case you’re a fan of Malevich, this post is not about how a dog can paint with its tail or ears. Malevich had a donkey paint with its tail for one of the exhibitions, but the story is very different here.

A family acquaintance is planning to take in a puppy. Before “she” was born, it was assumed her name would have to start with “A”. A prospective owner wanted to give a name of a Greek goddess, and I instantly came up with Arthemis, which she thoroughly liked. We added two extra names, Chiara and Maxima, so Arthemis Chiara Maxima was waiting to come to this world to embrace her beautiful, if extraordinary, name.

The story has just taken a different turn because the puppy has to assume a name that starts with “x”. The owner still loves Chiara and Maxima for second names, but the first name has to be dealt with quickly, and the owner still wants a Greek name. I suggested Xenobia, Xanthe, Xanthippe. She was kind of mesmerised by the name Harita, as it starts with the sound [kh] in Russian, yet sadly in English the name begins with “H”. She came up with the name [khrisia], but I suspect it will begin with “ch”, not “x” in Latin spelling.

There are names like Xaviera, Ximena, and Xiang that could suit the dog. Just so you know, it is a Rodesian Ridgeback. As a matter of fact, there’s a wonderful blog dedicated to a Ridgeback called Rufus who lives in Luxembourg, and the photo in the post was found there.

As to the point of this post… As I understand now, after naming two cats and two dogs, I am almost a professional pet name giver. A special kind of copywriter, if you like, trading in churning out intricate sobriquets for the man’s best friends. Still, though, if you know any names that start with “X” and that could suit Chiara and Maxima, the future Ridgeback owner would be over the Moon. Needless to say, so would I.

Playing in Scarborough Paradise

A South Coast beach
A view on the North Coast

I already told you how I came to love the seaside, and in early July when the weather was nice and hot I longed to travel to the east coast. In nearly six years in the UK I’ve travelled a lot along the west coast and in Wales, but the east and south of England remain largely unvisited. So on that lovely Saturday in early July I took a train to Scarborough where I did the following three things for the first time in my life: 1) hired a beach chair and sat idly in the sun amidst the screaming kids and sunbathing adults; 2) entertained myself with digging my feet deep inside the warm soft sand; and 3) took a one-hour boat cruise along “the picturesque route” into the North Sea. Before you ask, the boat rocked mercilessly, and my side of the boat was splashed generously with waves. I licked a drop of sea water off my shoulder; it was bitterly salty. It was my first time in a boat in the open sea, and considering that I had fish&chips a little less than half an hour before I went on the cruise, it must be saying loads about my seasickness. Or maybe it only means that I need to go on a longer cruise to test myself properly.

I didn’t get to visit the Scarborough Castle. As with some of the landmarks in Llandudno, the castle sits atop of the hill and can be seen from the town, but the route up there isn’t half as steep as in Llandudno. It’s not even as steep as in Llandeilo. Walking up the hill reminded me of the Mediterranean; while the trees and herbs along the route almost smelt Russian. It was a mystical experience which climaxed in seeing the North Bay. The South Coast is spectacular, when seen from the hill, but when I saw the North Bay upon entering the castle’s “arch” I was spellbound. Comparing to the busy and wavy waters on the opposite side, the North Bay was serene and regal in presence of the castle overlooking it.

Anne Bronte grave
Ashes to Oils: an old cemetery  and a parking

This was followed by the two or three weird observations. The burial ground of St Mary’s church is divided in two: the part closest to the castle “houses” the grave of Ann Bronte, while the part closest to the town is occupied by a small car park. Just a short walk from there is a playground called “Paradise”. I was curious to see if anyone was using it. I wasn’t disappointed although I didn’t expect to see the scene: young man and woman were frolicking on the grass. This gave a whole new meaning both to “playground” and to “paradise”.

Scarborough Paradise
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