Most people born in the Sixties were given the name Debbie or Andrew. Mostly Andrew. I was named Philippa, told people my name was phi-li-puh when they called me Pip and then decided in grade six that from now on, I would be known as Pip. I like the name Philippa, but I just sort of don’t recognise it as me. Once, in my teens, a message came through a party, “Philippa’s dad is here” and I passed it on. “Philippa? Philippa? Your dad is here…. oh wait…” If I get a phone call and they say “Hi! Is that Philippa?” I hang up. I don’t know you and I don’t want whatever it is you’re selling.
I didn’t know any other Philippas or Phillipas or Phillippas or Philipas growing up. Or Pips. I heard of Pips, but they were mostly dogs. I was a solo Pip. The only one in class. The only one at school. “Is that your real name?” I felt special when we did Dickens’ Great Expectations in class and I got to read the part of Pip.
Later, when I worked at a bank, I twice answered phone calls from branch staff who insisted they knew me:
“Hello, Vouchers Melbourne, this is Pip speaking.”
“Pip? Pip! Hi! It’s Rachel. What are you doing there?”
“Err, hi. Sorry, who is it?”
“Rachel. At East Melbourne.”
“Ummmm…”
“Pip! It’s me! Rachel! We were tellers together at East Melbourne.”
“Errr, no. I’ve never worked there. Must be another Pip.”
” … ”
Because, there couldn’t possibly be another Pip in the bank. I searched the bank’s internal email list and found four Pips in my city building. I even met one of them; she had a brother called Andrew.
But now, I live in a small town of about 3,000 people. When I first moved here, I joined a playgroup with my little boys and met Pip, who was a local through and through. That was a bit weird. Then there was Pip, the kindergarten mum. When we walked into the pub together for a kindergarten function, people chuckled, “Pip, Pip! Hooray!!” These days, I say good morning to that Pip and another Pip on the way to school drop off every morning and Pip’s surname is only one letter off mine! My daughter found a dog and brought it home. I called the owner and it was Pip. My sister lives in France and met… Pip from my town. These are all different, separate, individual Pips. There are more I haven’t had contact with yet, but I’ve seen their names on the local Facebook buy/sell page. I counted eight of them, not including me and a few I haven’t already mentioned.
What the hell?????? Why is my town Pip-central? What is going on?
I mean to investigate. I am hoping to have a Pip-gathering, a Pip-dinner and do a Pip-interview. I am guessing that I am probably about ten years older than the other Pips, which probably just indicates that my mum was ahead of her time. (Go Mum!) Watch this space.
Pip's Thinks 