Moo…mooo…oink…oink
My vegetarian beliefs run deep. I have been agonising how to bring up my child. To veg or not to veg? that is the question. Many people say you shouldn’t inflict such views onto children. But surely bringing them up as a meat eater is inflicting the law of the carnivore? As Melissa is a meat eater and as we are in the land of the steak, for the time being flesh will have to pass those small lips.
However, I will have a vegetarian propaganda strategy in place from an early age. ‘You see that piece of meat, that used to be a cow. Moooooo. You see that piece of bacon, that little piggie made it to market but not in the way it had hoped. Oink. Oink’
Whilst on the subject of my baby, I am having issues with chosing a name. In fact I find it totally daunting, naming a living being and creating their identity. Being naturally indecisive I have enough problems chosing what toppings to have on my pizza, so you can imagine the trauma of naming my unborn.
The baby was conceived in Barcelona, so I was thinking of some Catalan homage, but then I thought it might be too Beckham with his baby Cruz. Then when I actually looked into it most Catalan names are quite ugly like Jordi.
I was named after my dad. My dad is quite big and often I am referred to as Little Mart to avoid confusion. I then thought maybe I could call the child Mini Mart. Big Mart, Little Mart, Mini Mart. But then it would get really confusing and it would be like naming him after a supermarket.
I also like the name Daisy for a girl – but that has different conotations over here mainly due to the Dukes of Hazzard. In England bunches of Daisys drink their way through their trust funds up and down the Kings Road. Here, you’d find Daisy working at Walmart having difficulty keeping up with the rent on her trailer.
Martin's In La La Land 
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