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We are, of course, a group of people dedicated to the communication of good ideas, smart reflections, and effective ways of getting ideas across. Our track record speaks for itself, as do the myriad good things that people say about us!

But there’s more to it than that. And, if anyone reading this has a modicum of curiosity as to where the name originated, well, that comes from perhaps an overactive imagination tempered with a touch of reality.

Given the fortuitous era in which I have had (nay, am having) the privilege to live, I wouldn’t consider that I’m really someone who complains. I certainly wouldn’t say that the life I’ve led has been tough compared to others. But being born with the moniker with which I was classified has made the trajectory, well, somewhat thought-provoking; some might even say stimulating. I would prefer the appellation: challenging; maybe even perplexingly inspiring. Certainly, though, not dull. If you frame that within the context of the family into which I was injected, then perhaps you may have an idea as to how the previous statement may have some foundation.

Heliosvart, except if viewed in cuneiform script from ancient Mesopotamian, is not the best name for a boy to grow up within the English public school system. In fact, the growing up was parenthesised by the Scottish public school system but, as the particular systematised institution I attended had its origins deeply rooted within the historic suppression of a rebellious nation and whose principal purpose was to turn out union flag-waving, empire supporting facsimiles of the English quasi-ruling classes that “knew-their-place”, it might as well have been the English public school system. Perhaps though, with a tartan tinge.

The fact is that it isn’t a great name for becoming a streamlined integrally accommodated part of any school system in these Kingdoms that are (at least at the setting down on these pages) popularly known as United. With a name like Heliosvart, wherever you are placed for your introduction to the emotionless instrumentation of raw conditioning, there will be, um, consequences. In the Scottish / English public school system, it is the equivalent of the deep-throat version of the traditional Glasgow-kiss.

And, when you add it to the rest of the indelible marker with which I was stamped on production: Plunkenstürm-Pampleverte, it became not only a millstone around my neck but one with a flock of extrovert albatrosses dancing a synchronised fandango, each one dressed in a bright pink tutu and glass slippers and sipping a multicoloured umbrella-protected margarita from carved crystal Venetian beer mugs, whilst a troupe of overweight, and naked, trombone-playing flossiplumps played a military two-step and stomped in drunken camaraderie around its edge.

The story of how it became, er, Pimplewart, is perhaps self-explanatory, but I will, however, leave it for posterior cogitation. For now, just accept that – it happened…