It's just a name

I had a dream last night about something that got me to thinking this morning about names. I can’t remember the dream, but I pretty sure it involved someone knocking on my door. Of course someone may actually have knocked on my real door, but seeing as it was still dark at the time, I’ll consider it a dream and not a desperate plea of help. Anywho...back to my point...

Many years ago I saw Disney’s 101 Dalmatians. Apart from Cruella deVil being one of the scariest villains ever, I always recall seeing the scene where Roger and Anita walk through the park and see all the dogs that look like their owners. The long coated Afghan cantering with a lanky hippy, the bulldog with a pumped up fighter and the small fluffy with a well dressed girl in pink with ribbons. Like for like is what they were saying, I think.

So the name thing can also be like for like. I know a Mr. Gumm, he’s a dentist. He wasn’t my surgeon, but Mr. Andrew Bone worked in the same building as my orthopaedic doctor. Mr. Kidney is a nephrologist on the list of specialists that my Doctor looked at when she was looking for a consultant for me. A guy I worked with was called Mr. Trainer; he’s the Learning and Development Manager and was a school teacher.

The same goes for addresses...I live on Rope Crescent, those that know me, know I have a passion for knots.

Can you imagine though, standing in an elevator, ascending to the 13th floor and noticing that the maintenance company for said lift, lists their address as Ricketty Street