Latest news with #Westerham
Telegraph
13-05-2025
- General
- Telegraph
I hid my baby's unique name from my friends so they wouldn't steal it
Anyone who's recently named their child Leo may be experiencing buyer's remorse right now: given the appointment of the new Pope, it's set to become even more popular. As The Telegraph recently reported, the business of baby naming has never been more controversial: one in five grandparents baulks at the name bestowed upon their grandchild, as the trend for giving children increasingly unusual names continues. Children are far more likely to find themselves friends with a Jaxx or an Artemis than a Michael or Sarah as parents turn to more unusual names in order to avoid the horror of your child sharing the same name as someone in their classroom. But what's it really like to grow up with a name that stands out from the crowd? Is it really the key to being memorable in a modern world where promoting yourself as a brand is increasingly important – or a burden? Here, we meet a new mum who is determined that the unique name she has picked for her daughter will help her stand out in life – and one woman who knows all too well the potential pitfalls of growing up with a unique name. 'I don't want my daughter to share her name with half her class like I did' Catherine Lamb, 36, hated growing up with a name shared by others in her class, and was determined the same fate would not befall her own children. She and her husband, Nathaniel, 35, from Westerham, Kent, named their 14-month-old daughter Theia (pronounced Thay-ah), after the Greek titan goddess. Catherine, a writer, says: 'When I was a child, I hated having the same name as everyone else. There was nothing particular about the name that I disliked, other than it was very popular. 'There were three Catherines in my class at school, and more in other year groups. I ended up being known as Cathy, to differentiate me from my classmates Kate and Catherine. 'When I met my husband, Nathaniel, I was envious that he had been the only Nathaniel not only in his class, but his entire school – although it's a name I think has since grown in popularity.' Catherine's experience of growing up with a popular name meant she had already spent years considering names for her own offspring. 'I was always determined to give my own children a unique name. Not something completely made up, but something they weren't likely to share with anyone else in their class at school,' she explains. 'I thought it would be nice to have a name that is memorable. 'About two years before I had Theia, I fell in love with the name Thea after hearing it on a TV show, and earmarked it for my future daughter.' But by the time Catherine had got pregnant, she realised the name was more popular than they had thought. 'I overheard a mother talking to her daughter, called Thea, when we were out one day,' Catherine says, 'and immediately, it put me off. In 2023, the name Thea was the 63rd-most popular girls' name in the UK, according to Office for National Statistics data, and was given to 716 baby girls. 'Then, some distant relatives in New Zealand also had a daughter named Thea, and I felt it was just too popular to use.' 'I immediately started Googling similar names, and found that the origin of the name Thea is actually from Theia, pronounced slightly differently, the Greek goddess of light. I loved that it was a strong and elegant name that had some history and mythology behind it. 'We both loved the name, but we kept it a closely guarded secret from friends and family. I didn't want anyone to try to put us off the name, or worse still, use it themselves.' When their daughter was born, the couple received a lot of compliments on their choice, even though many friends and even family members struggled to pronounce it at first. 'When Nathaniel called my mum to tell her Theia had arrived, she initially repeated the name as Thea – he had to correct her. 'Everyone has said they love the name, but people do forget how to say it. I've still only met two people who have known how to pronounce her name from seeing it written down. They usually plump for Thea, or sometimes 'Thee-ay-ah', or 'Thigh-ah'. 'It is a bit frustrating having to constantly correct people, especially after you've told them multiple times, and I suppose Theia might feel the same once she's older. 'But ultimately, I hope she grows to love her unique and memorable name.' 'It was perpetually awkward – I longed to be a Laura or an Emily' Dayna Clarke, 37, was named after her mother's favourite character in the American soap opera Dynasty, Dana Waring – although the unusual spelling is down to her dyslexic father registering her birth. 'My mum loved watching Dynasty while pregnant with me,' Dayna, a therapist, explains. 'Dana Waring was American; glamorous and feisty in a way that probably felt impossibly far from our rural corner of east Devon. 'My dad added the 'Y' to the name when he registered my birth. He was highly dyslexic, so I suspect it was a genuine mistake rather than a deliberate decision – although sadly, he's no longer around to ask. 'Growing up, having a name like Dayna in a rural community was perpetually awkward. I used to long to be a Laura or an Emily, to have the kind of name that you could find on a personalised keyring. 'My schooldays were difficult. The only other Dana anyone had heard of was Dana Scully, from The X-Files. I had the theme tune hummed at me a lot.' But the unusual spelling of Dayna's name meant that even having a famous namesake didn't help people pronounce her name correctly. 'I absolutely dreaded having a new teacher. I'd brace myself during registration for them to hesitate when they got to my name, before attempting Diana, Danya, or even Diner. There was always a lot of laughter. 'I don't have a middle name, but when I was a teenager, I gave myself the middle name Alicia, in the hope people might use that instead. It wasn't very successful. 'As an adult, I've missed appointments while waiting for my name to be called and it being mispronounced so badly I didn't even realise I was being called. There's a special kind of loneliness from having to explain yourself before you've even said hello.' Dayna was an adult before she had met anyone who shared her unusual name. 'It was only two years ago when I met someone else called Dana, at a party. When she introduced herself, I genuinely thought she was mocking me. 'It felt surreal and quite disorientating to say the name out loud to someone else who responded to it.' But Dayna has eventually grown to love her unusual name. 'When I was younger, unfamiliar names stood out, and I was desperate to fit in,' she explains. 'But as I travelled more, my perception of my name shifted. I met people from other cultures, and everyone's name seemed to have a story. 'People still struggled to pronounce it, but then, people started telling me it was a beautiful name, rather than laughing about it, and I really began to embrace it.' 'I started to see the charm in being the only Dayna on the email thread or the office whiteboard. 'Recently, a good friend told me her sister had named her daughter Dayna. I was stunned – it felt strange but quite beautiful to hear it chosen.' But despite the moniker being chosen by others, Dayna insists that if she has children herself, she'll opt for a more traditional name. 'I don't think I'd bestow a name as unique as Dayna on my own children,' she says. 'I love it now, but it's been a long process, and I think as a child I'd have preferred something slightly more mainstream. 'I still feel a flush of embarrassment when someone stumbles over my name, or consistently mispronounces it wrong, but I no longer dislike it. 'I've come to accept it's part of who I am.'
The Guardian
16-04-2025
- Business
- The Guardian
Martin Lee obituary
Ink ran through the veins of my friend Martin Lee, an outstanding print producer who collaborated with many eminent designers and fine printers on some of the world's most beautiful books. Career highlights include the remarkable Designed by Apple in California (2016). But over and above such bookish excellence, Martin, who has died aged 83, played an important bridging role between the disciplines of design and print; in the transition from analogue to digital print technologies; and through passing skills and knowledge from one generation to the next. He was born William Martin Lee in Horsforth, Yorkshire, to Elinor (nee Mosley) and William Lee, a noted civil engineer, and had two younger sisters, Viv and Trisha. After Douai school, Martin trained as an accountant with Peat, Marwick, Mitchell & Co (now KPMG). But he decided on a change of vocation, enrolling in a print management course at the London College of Printing, then joining Westerham Press, in Kent, in the early 1960s. There, still in his 20s, he was entrusted with the task of laying out the new, purpose-built press. After a spell as a partner at the design studio HSAG, in 1975 he returned to Westerham Press as managing director. There he met Susi Kitson Montalto, who was working for the graphic design studio Omnific Limited, one of Westerham's clients, and they married in 1977. Leaving Westerham the following year, Martin worked briefly for Arabic Advertising & Publishing as a manager, then went freelance before becoming a partner at Omnific with the designers Derek Birdsall and Alan Kitching, in 1979. Though less feted than his former partners, it was Martin who ensured that Omnific's design shone. His role was to help manage all steps of the print production process, and because he understood both designers' and printers' methodologies and demands intimately, he was able to master the sometimes fraught interface between the two with clarity and precision. This rare set of complementary skills enabled him to produce works combining excellence in both disciplines, which became his trademark. When Derek became a visiting professor at the Royal College of Art in the late 1980s he invited Martin and Alan to join him as part-time tutors. It was there, as an MA student in 1990, that I met him: one of a generation of RCA designers to be inspired by his wisdom, insight and mentorship. Many went on to have long-term collaborations with Martin, who set up his own practice, Martin Lee Associates, in 2001. His acuity and curiosity enabled him to quickly master new skills and processes, and as the industry moved from the analogue to the digital in the late 20th century, he helped translate established best practice into the emerging realm. His talents took him around the world, working with clients such as IBM, Yale University Press, United Technologies Corporation, Norman Foster and Apple. His legacy is not just a library-worth of beautiful books, but the methodologies he helped establish – a significant endowment to the many designers and printers he worked alongside. He is survived by Susi, their son, Anthony, and daughters, Louise and Alexandra, and four grandchildren, and by Viv and Trisha.
