See, it's a losing battle

One of the blessings of rarely watching TV is that I have to Google the idiots who are enshrined in the celebrity cultosphere. Finding my own name amongst the five favourite celebrity baby names of the year was only a slight surprise. Finding that the unfortunate infant is a cute baby girl saddled with a most masculine Welsh name was, after that, no surprise at all.

Once in a while, someone will gurgle to me about how a relation has named their daughter Bryn, or tried it on with a non-Celtic feminine suffix. (I'll get around to linking to a previous rant or two on the subject.) When I hear these gushings, I am not tactful, and the doting relation generally wanders off somewhat deflated.

As far as I can see, both these parents are a few floors short of a hotel. (Who are these people and what, if anything, do they do?) I wonder if they can pronounce the name correctly, and I do hope they avoid both Wales and New Zealand: one of the leading sports figures in the latter is a rugby bruiser who bears no resemblance to this little girl. But I may live long enough to hear news of her gender reassignment surgery.