The fortunate few

When I began writing Best Known to Herself I decided that I would not name names. I began by referring to people by a description, but that's clunky. So I decided (in late March 2003) to go the well-trodden route of pseudonyms. Here's a start. I'll add more as they get mentioned.

If you know me at all, you'll recognise many or all of these people. If you are one of these people, do let me know that you're reading. (If you're uncomfortable with anything I've said about you, we can talk about it. I don't aim to wound!)

Paradise - My best beloved. The person with whom I am most able to be myself, relaxed and unafraid. Techie, poet, photographer, eater of cheese and strewer of socks. When I was younger I said my ideal partner would be someone who could hold me in the palm of his hand and would still think this a thing worth doing. Paradise is such a person. We've been together since February 1999, and Domestic Bliss^TM shows no signs of wear and tear. (If you think his soubriquet is icky, you should have seen some of the alternatives I was contemplating.)

Melusina - The ultimate in housemates. Dear friend of Paradise's (from school) and mine (from college). Philosopher, critic, writer, singer, adamant cyclist, political commentator, purveyor of glitz and glam to the masses. She makes a wicked curry and can coax large leafy houseplants from the most unlikely-looking of kitchen scraps. (Later: she says this makes her sound as if she grows rose bushes from mouldy bread crusts ... I say, readers, I wouldn't put it past her - but what I was referring to, specifically, was the four-foot avocado plant that started out as a lifeless-looking stone and is now threatening to open portals to other dimensions in our bathroom.) Also known as Ilonina, of ilonina is random fame.

Burning Flower - My long-standing Best Friend, and the only person from school with whom I'm still in touch. Before we got to know each other I thought friends (other than those I'd known since babyhood) were people who would grudgingly tolerate the fact that I was unspeakably odd; Burning Flower, by contrast, seemed to think unspeakable was in the eye of the beholder and odd could be pretty cool. She's intensely intuitive, artistic, and an increasingly successful commercial lawyer. Her road not taken was film directing - and who knows? she might yet make a cross-country run. Meanwhile, she writes, sings and bestows wit and biscuits upon our humble household.

Constance - My mother-out-law. Red revolutionary, staunch nationalist, chain-smoker, uncompromising radical, single mother, fierce soccer supporter, rampant gardener, stern philosopher. She lives life at a pitch that would exhaust a person half her age. She has worked for the same public-sector institution since 1967. She is a Buffy fan. The twists and turns in her character never cease to surprise me. The more I get to know her the better I like her.

Persia - My second cousin (for the genealogically challenged, that means we share a set of great-grandparents; her mother and my father are first cousins). She's actually Dr Persia, having finished her PhD in Islamic art history last year, and she lives in London, so I don't see her very often. This is a pity, because although we've gone quite separate ways over the past few years, we still seem to have a direct line to each other's deeper selves. Something to do with the years spent dreaming up intricate worlds together when we were young. Persia always invented the best games of all.

Suzanne - My sister. She was born when I was six and a half, and since then she's enriched my life with an exhilarating mixture of fun, wit and bewilderment. From the very beginning she's looked at the world with curious, compassionate and sceptical eyes. She is searingly principled, multiply talented and sumptuously complex, and I love her fiercely. (She's named here after the Leonard Cohen song, but I'm not 100% sure about the choice. I might change it.)

Macha - An old friend whom I first met through a singing project, before we left our respective schools. We got to know each other properly in college, and shared rooms during my last year there. In the interlinked arenas of intellectual endeavour, musical performance, composition, and raucous good times, Macha is truly a force to be reckoned with. She lives with her partner, Buachaill Bán, and they make beautiful music together. (What? It's true, OK?)

The Blue Voyager - One of my oldest friends: our parents were in college together, so we've known each other since she was born. Hence, we have a common vocabulary and set of references that I share with few other people. It's often a relief to be able to say things and know they'll be understood without explanation - a sort of emotional shorthand. Melusina and the Blue Voyager have been firm friends since college, too.

Autumnsong - Another very close and treasured friend. We've known each other since before we left school, and over the years our friendship has developed into something complex and nourishing. There's nothing like a walk with Autumnsong in the south suburbs to set my mind running along fruitful lines. Wherever we are when we're eighty, I hope we're still ringing each other up to talk about literature and language and people, and to laugh about the twists and turns in our lives.

Pippin - A college friend of Paradise's, who lives in Chicago. (His name derives mainly from the fact that he's a rabid LOTR fan.) We tease him about his American accent. His American colleagues tease him about his Irish accent. Such is the way of the world.

Stellanova - A college friend of Melusina's, who is to be found on Livejournal, among other places. She's a journalist, a singer, a writer, and lots more.

Rossignol - The conductor of the church choir that Melusina and I sing in. She conceals a steely strength and a hot temper beneath her calm velvety exterior.

Castle Badger - A household somewhat like ours, in that it consists of a couple who share with a friend (I haven't come up with names for them yet, but when I do, you'll be the first to know). It is a place of gaming, Babylon 5 and fine conversation. And strawberries.

Fearful Symmetry - A very dear old friend of Paradise's, Melusina's and mine. Our stories meet and touch at many points. He's another of those artsy-techie-bestraddler types, having Master's degrees in both American literature and multimedia systems (not oddly, the latter has so far yielded more fruitful employment opportunities). He's also a gamer, a writer, a shrewd and witty theorist, and a loyal and treasured friend. He moved to San Francisco a few years ago, and despite his hitherto unshakeable (yes, we've tried!) decision to keep living there - the brute - the connection between us is apparently as strong as ever. His twice-yearly visits to Dublin are much looked forward to in our humble household.

Sigmund - A college friend of Paradise's, who recently moved to England. We miss his deliciously biting wit, his blazing inventiveness, his unselfish willingness to help out his friends - and yes, even his hyperpunctuality. Sigmund professes an abiding hatred of online journals, but perhaps some day he'll see the light.

Uncommon Law - A very good friend of Paradise's (they went to school and college together), and part of the posse that also contains Sigmund and various others. One of the most imaginative people I know - but moody. Works in IT. Runs devastatingly vivid and complex role-playing campaigns. Specialises in a dead-pan, cynical humour that I've rarely seen matched.

Song of the Sea - A friend from college, who went to school with Macha. We sang in choirs together for years, where her enthusiasm and dedication were - and I use the word advisedly - an inspiration. Song of the Sea is now in London, pursuing a singing career.

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