My name is Frances. It’s a good, old-fashioned sort of name that I grew up hating because it was unusual and sounded a bit posh.

And because I inevitably became Francesca, or Francis, on school reports and dentists’ bills.

To date, the only person to spell my name correctly – without asking how – is the magnificent Mr Stephen Fry. Those people who remain my friends after a few initial encounters are the ones with enough brains to realise that there is no I in my name, and that my involuntary suffix – C & A – should be reserved for a German clothing store.

It irks me most of all when the error creeps in on return emails. Not only do I sign my name in full, but it’s also listed in the inbox – anyone who inserts the dreaded I has been negligent enough to ignore the proper spelling not once, but twice.

It’s funny – after almost 25 years, you’d think I’d have learned to live with it. Maybe I should just change my name to Steve… everyone can spell that.

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