Dan Q

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QParty Progress

After weeks of debating and procrastinating, Claire and I have finally managed to order the invitation cards we’ll be sending out for QParty. I’m quite pleased with how they look (well, in proof form), and I hope that those of you who’ll be receiving them within the next fortnight or so will smile when you see them, too. Gratitude due to Paul for helping us to arrange them.

It’s all surprisingly complicated. Today, we spent some time discussing the concept of speeches. As anybody who knows me will agree, I love the sound of my own voice, but it’s always been a traditional part of wedding receptions – on which, in our own way, we’re modelling parts of QParty – to get certain other people… the father of the bride, the best man, etc… to say a few words too. But with no bride and no best man, it’s somewhat difficult to decide on the best way to provide the same kind of experience. We think we’re set, now, but for a moment I was wondering.

I’m looking forward to it, and it’s not even just because I like to drink and dance or because I like to get big groups of people I know together into one place: it’s because, though what others have said, it’s turning out to mean something. That’s kind of hard to explain:

I suppose it’s because other people are taking QParty so seriously. We weren’t sure that they would. We’d always said – once we discovered that neither of us were interested in marriage – that we would one day have a party in leiu of a wedding, because that’s the kind of party we like. Since then, we’ve gone to three weddings and one engagement party, and we’re even more sure that we don’t want to get married, but even more sure that we want to drink and dance and show everybody exactly we care about where our relationship stands.

I don’t know about Claire, but I’m genuinely surprised (it’s a good kind of surprised) at some of the responses we’ve had when we said we wanted to have this party. Especially from our parents, who’d already taken our name change in their stride, and from my dad in particular, who’s been especially proactive in helping us make our plans come to life… but also from our friends, who’ve been very positive about the idea (even those for whom not marrying would be an inconceivable life choice), coo-ed and “aww”-ed in a sweet and only slightly sickening way, and have suggested all kinds of activities and themes for the party itself, some of which we may have adopted. So; thank you all for the surprise.

I’ve had some difficulty working out the addresses of everybody I’d like to send invitations too. In particular, right now, I’m lacking postal addresses for Beth and Pete, and non-termtime addresses for Ele and Andy K. If you’re reading this, could you get an address to me within the next week or so; thanks. An inevitable problem with this time of year is that a lot of our friends – even the ones we had addresses for – have just moved. Such is the risk with having friends who are students or recent graduates.

More to follow, I’m sure.

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Meatloaf, QParty, And The Competition

It’s been a busy weekend. Friday saw me travelling by train to Preston, with Faye, my honorary girlfriend for the weekend (Claire had exams on Friday and Saturday morning and sadly had to leave the position vacant). Then, no sooner had we arrived (owing to a missed connection at Wolverhampton) we had to dash to my dad’s house, grab some more train tickets, and get back to the station (collecting my sisters and my mum on the way) and catch another train, this time to Glasgow. But not before playing a neat game at Preston train station we call “get the stranger to identify people she’s never met.”

Playing at Preston station

This game came about when we realised that Faye was looking around her to see if our mum had yet arrived at the station, despite having never met her and not knowing what she looked like. We made a game of it, getting a message to my mum to not acknowledge us or make eye contact with us when she arrived, and agreeing to do the same, so that Faye could try to identify her based only on her shared facial features. She’d have succeeded if she’d been bold enough to point out the mysterious woman who crept past us and got onto the train: my sisters and I didn’t even notice her sneak past, and we almost missed the train because of it, as we insisted upon continuing to wait for her as we didn’t think she’d already passed us.

On the train to Glasgow

We finally got to Glasgow, and made our way to the venue where Meat Loaf was to perform (see Ruth’s review and Strokey Adam’s review from the same tour). We had some difficulty getting our tickets, mostly because we couldn’t find the credit card collections point.

Where's the collections point, then?

The concert itself was very good. The warm up act, Marion Raven, was well-worth seeing. Meat Loaf himself is visibly less able than he once was, and performed less well than the last time I saw him live, but was nonetheless able to treat us to a spectacular show featuring hits from all three Bat Out Of Hell albums… as well as a less-well received encore of cover songs (why bother, when he has such a great back catalogue of his own material?). Well worth-seeing, even if not as good as I’d remembered him.

Meat Loaf in concert

After this, we saw off my family (who were driving back with my dad) and Faye and I checked in to the local Travel Inn, at which I took (and sent to Andy, for whom Faye is a girlfriend on a more permanent contract) the following picture using the until-then untested timer shot feature of my new Nokia N95.

Dan and Faye in bed together

Several text messages from Andy insisting that I “behave myself” later, Faye got into her own bed and we ate pizza from a local takeaway (that was harder to find than it should have been – who’d have thought it’d be so hard to find some greasy takeaway food at midnight in central Glasgow?).

The following morning we returned back to Preston by train. Our train was diverted from the main line owing to maintenance work, adding almost two hours to our journey time (it feels quite frustrating to be sitting on a brand new Pendolino train that’s crawling through the Lake District at no more than 30mph, or so the GPS on my new phone [can you tell that I like my new phone a bit] claims). I bought a bottle of Fanta, and, realising that my new contract gives me a near-infinite number of text messages, entered the “text in the code from the label” competition that’s currently running. Finally, we reached Preston, and I set Faye on the way back to her family in Chester, ending her contract as my temporary girlfriend, and went to meet up with my family again.

I didn’t manage to get Radio 1 Big Weekend tickets, but my sister Sarah did and shared them with her friend, and they spent most of the weekend out of sight or – sometimes – returning home for a change of clothes and a chance to sober up for a few hours between the endless events that the festival provided (or that sprung up around it in Preston’s usual nightclub selection). It didn’t terribly matter, though, because my dad’s back garden gave ample opportunity to listen to the music from the main stage, just a stone’s throw away, and it was easy to combine this activity with the endless fun of playing on the new trampoline. Disappointingly, it wasn’t possible to jump high enough to actually see the acts. Although I didn’t think to try the skylight in the attic, I suspect the church tower might have gotten in the way.

Claire arrived by car – having finished her final exam – and, accompanied by my dad and my sister Becky, we began to discuss and visit some of the places we’d discussed as potential venues for the upcoming QParty. We finally found one. This isn’t it:

Not the QParty venue - but just accross the road from it!

However, it is just across the road from it, and it was interesting enough to warrant a photo. It appears that the entire building (and half of the one next to it – they even chainsawed their way through the sign) has been simply removed from the street.

Eventually we settled on a venue: Roper Hall on Friargate, Preston. Originally a Roman Catholic all-boys school, this building went through several renovations before eventually becoming a bar and nightclub. At one point it was owned by the Students Union of the University of Central Lancashire, although I’m not sure that’s still the case. We managed to confirm a booking for our proposed party date, Saturday 8th September, and we’ll be sending out invitations, we hope, within a week or two.

Sunday became our day of rest. I was aching quite a lot after a 2+ hour session on the trampoline the night before, and we were all pretty exhausted.

Claire and Becky, exhausted

Still, we managed to pull ourselves together to have a barbecue in the evening with the whole family, plus my mum’s boyfriend Andy, while we chatted about further ideas for QParty events. If you’re an invitee, you’ll find out about some of them… eventually.

Barbeque!

I got the opportunity to take a copy of the PhotoCDs my dad had made from many of his old slides, including a huge collection of me and my sisters very young. You’ll see some of them on my Facebook account (and have the opportunity to mock me about them) soon enough, I’m sure. Before we left Preston on Monday, Claire and I decided to meet up with my sisters and my mum for a pub lunch together.

Becky stuffing a huge burger down her face hole

On the way to the pub, I received a phone call from a man who identified himself as “a representative of Fanta, Sprite, and Dr. Pepper. I was busy navigating for Claire though Preston’s infernal one-way system at the time, so I asked him to call back in a quarter of an hour. He called back while I was at the pub…

…it turns out I won the competition I’d entered on the train. Having never entered a text-in competition before (my sister Becky, who’d entered this particular competition several times and was living on a diet of Fanta by this point), I got lucky and won the grand prize on my first attempt. Apparently, later this week, I’ll receive a new Nintendo Wii, a 26” Samsung HD-capable LCD TV (that’ll be nice for Troma Night), and a fridge filled with three crates of Fanta. Go me.

Comments to the effect of “you lucky git” are fully anticipated. Comments to the effect of “can I have the Wii” are too late, as I’m already giving it to my mum for her birthday. Comments to the effect of “can I have a bottle of Fanta, then” will probably be answered in the affirmative, if you come to Troma Night, and – if they’re promotional bottles – will be accompanied by my statistical tips to maximise you chances of winning (take it from an expert).

Right; that’s all from me – it’s been a long day.

A Note From The Passport Office

This morning I received my new passport, following my name change last month. In the envelope with the new passport and the usual collection of leaflets about safe travelling, I found the following compliments slip:

Compliments slip from the passport office

The slip reads:

Mr. Q,

Your passport has now been issued, as requested. I would advise you that due to your unusual surname, you may experience difficulties at Immigration Control when travelling. The Passport Service will take no responsibility for any problems incurred as the change of name is your own personal choice.

Kind regards;

[indecipherable signature]

Kinda cool.

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Many, Many Letters About My One Letter…

I’m not sure I’ve ever sent out so many letters in one batch before, but this morning I sent letters to my credit card company, the Inland Revenue, the National Insurance Contributions Office, my electricity company, my gas supplier, my water/sewerage supplier, my mobile phone company, my telephone company, my ISP, the TV Licensing Authority, the local council, and the Electoral Office. And there’s still half a dozen other organisations who won’t accept a photocopy of a Deed Poll certificate without at least taking a peep at an original, and a couple of local people around Aber (my letting agency, doctor, etc.) that I’ll just call by at lunchtime.

For those of you who plan to change your name at some point during your life – I’m looking in particular at Ruth, Suz, Hayley, etc. – here’s a tip: mail merge is your friend. Start by making a list of all the addresses you need to inform, and have your favourite word processor generate a template letter, then manually adjust the ones that need tweaking (to put account numbers on some or to make special requests on others). It won’t save a lot of time, but it’ll make you feel better about the whole thing.

A civil servant friend informs me that the Tax Credits database isn’t capable of storing surnames of only one character. I’ve no intention of needing to be on the Tax Credits database, but it’s an interesting point for database developers anyway.

Right; I’m feeling productive – better get back to work before the feeling passes.

Treehouse Breakfast; Q (Again); Troma Night

Claire, Jimmy, Paul and I just had breakfast at The Treehouse. They were doing an "all you can eat" Fair Tade buffet – basically; heaps of muesli, organic bananas, breads, and other hippy goodies. It was nice to do something different, but I’m not sure it was worth the fiver it cost.

Overheard a conversation from the table next to us, somebody saying something I don’t think I’ve ever heard anybody say before: "That’s the trouble with Aberystwyth: there’s always so much to do!" There’s something you don’t hear every day.

In other news, amongst the many wonderful comments we’ve received in response to the blog post about Claire and I’s name change, there’s a particularly nasty one that’s appeared, too. Sadly the sender has chosen to remain anonymous (Why do people do that? I’ve never really understood…) but the most likely suspect’s pretty obvious anyhow. Anyway: just wanted to say thank you to everybody who’s commented on the name change, whether on the blog post, by IRC, over the phone, in person, by text message, or whatever else: it’s great to get some feedback. Also thanks to the various people who’ve been appropriately "fixing" our presences in various wikis!

Troma Night tonight is at The Cottage. Usual drill.

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Q

A couple of deeds poll later, and Claire and I are half-way to having changed our surnames. Our new surname: Q. I hereby declare this blog post to be the official FAQ of the Dan/Claire name change. So there, Ms Q.

1. You’ve changed your names?

Yes, we’ve changed our names. I’m now “Dan Q”, and she’s “Claire Elizabeth Q”. We’ve signed deeds poll and it turns out that’s all you need to do.

2. How do you spell your new name?

Q. The letter Q. Just Q. That’s it.

3. Like Q from Star Trek or Q from James Bond?

No, like Q, the set of all rational numbers.

4. Why did you change your names?

For some time now we’d discussed changing our names so that we had the same surname. We’ve always liked the idea that when you become a family of your own, distinct from your parents, you should be entitled to choose a new surname for yourselves.

5. So this is like you “tying the knot”, then?

Not really. But if you were waiting for us to get married someday, this is the closest thing you’ll probably ever get to it (unless we have a party sometime to commemorate being together), so if it helps you to think of it like that, yes.

6. Why did you pick the letter “Q” as a surname?

It’s a cool letter. It’s uncommon, quirky, and is always followed by a U. Except now. Other letters considered and rejected for the role include A, B, C, P, T, X, Z, and Y.

7. Why did you pick a surname that neither of you already had?

Fair’s fair. Plus, we wanted something that’s pretty much unique. Apart from an 80s singer whose stage name is Stacey Q, we don’t know of anybody who has our surname.

8. WTF?

No. Q.

9. You know how much work this is going to take, right?

Tell me about it. It took me ages just to work out how to change my name in GMail. Now I’ve got to get certificates and sort out my bank, my other bank, my credit card, the DVLA, the passport agency, the electoral roll, the utility and service companies…

Yeah, we know it’ll be a lot of work.

10. Database administrators will hate you, you know.

We’ll hate them too, if their regexen don’t support single-character surnames. By the end of the year, I predict that we’ll be in at least three or four databases as Q-space-space-space. Not to mention a few places as Que or Queue. Fuck ’em.

11. How did your families take the name change?

Predictably to good. My mum laughed. My dad laughed, eventually. Her dad immediately assumed we were trying to commit some kind of bank fraud, and then laughed. The eldest of my two sisters sent me a text message reading simply “Disowned!” So, pretty well. And some of them actually had some useful practical advice about stuff.

12. Are you changing your signatures, too?

Yes, but we’re not putting them online, for obvious reasons.

13. Does this mean we’re allowed to say ‘DanQ’ in a silly voice instead of thank you now?

If you insist. You were allowed to say it before, of course, too. But it wasn’t funny then.

If there are any questions I’ve not covered, let me know!

The questions below were asked after this blog post was originally published.

14. Why not X?

It’s been done before. To death. Malcolm X and many of his supporters, for example. Plus it’s a little predictable. Q is a far cooler surname than X.

15. Did you, in your decision process, consider the effect this surname might have on your children?

Yes. In the event that we have children, they are likely to – being children – hate or be embarrassed their parents for one thing or another no matter what we do. This way, we’re giving the hypothetical sprogs either (a) something they can genuinely dislike us for or (b) something cool and unusual that they’ll be proud of. It all depends on their outlook, and I’m sure that there would be times in their lives that they would love, and times that they would loathe, their unusual surname.

If they are particularly bothered by it, they will be able to change it when they’re 16, whether or not we approve (although in all likelihood, we won’t care either way).

16. You do realise you’ve called yourselves after an abbreviation, don’t you? [“Q” = “question” in many FAQs]

I do now.

17. And if you adopt/have a child, please can you call it something like Francis Adam? / Have you thought of changing your first name to ‘Snooker’ or maybe ‘Fuh’ / etc.

Thankfully, we haven’t yet brainstormed all of the possible funny names that could precede “Q”. Keep them coming, but don’t expect them all to appear in the Q FAQ.

18. How is it pronounced? Is it “queue” or “qwuh” or what?

It’s pronounced like “queue” (and, I suppose, “cue”): the name of the letter Q.

19. Can you legally have a number or a punctuation mark as part of your name?

The short answer: No.

The longer answer: Within the UK, there are certain restrictions on naming (at least, if you’re a UK resident). Firstly, you must have at least two names. Secondly, your surname must consist only of letters and (sometimes) simple punctuation like apostrophes (O’Reilly) and hyphens (for multi-barrelled surnames). And it’s not allowed to be blasphemous. Your first name must not imply that you have a title (e.g. Sir, Duke, Lord, King, etc.). Pope might be allowed, but I’m not sure.

It’s a pity, or I’d have probably been Huntl3y long before now. The 3 is silent.

20. Try and be interesting without adopting pointless name changes.

It’s not phrased as a question, anonymous coward, but I’ll address this one anyway:

To state that our name change is pointless or is an attempt to draw attention is to misunderstand our reasons. The choice of name certainly is attention-seeking (let’s face it, it’s a damn cool name!), but the fact that we have changed it is not.

I’d love to hear why you think this, though, if only you’d care to tell us who you are.

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