My name is Jack David Edwards. According to Mum that was the only name it was ever going to be. That’s actually in ‘the baby book’ under one of the questions printed in Vivaldi “It was always going to be Jack”. I was named after Jack London, one of Dad’s literary heroes. London wrote about the Gold rush in Alaska from the perspective of one of the sled dogs. Of course I have a copy, an illustrated one that’s as old as I am, given to me and signed by my Aunty Erica. I’ve read that thing cover to cover. A few weeks after I was born a newspaper announced that Jack was 1995’s most popular name “I love Jack the lad” Mum kept the clipping, thinking it was funny. They didn’t care of course. They’d picked the name before it got super popular, and stuck with it. My middle name comes from my Dad, who unsurprisingly enough is called David, after his father. So in a way I’m named after two generations of Edwards’. Junior and Senior. There’s a frame back home with my name’s meaning in the middle, a gift from another Aunt (this time Tina). That same Vivaldi font again, this time ‘God is gracious’. I always found that funny, my name’s kind of like a post-it, stuck in the bible after all that fire and brimstone bollocks “No it’s ok lads, he’s a nice guy really. Promise.”


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