One day, the great Fr Murphy (Spud) stopped me on the stairs and, in that rather gasping way he had, asked me if I knew the derivation of my surname. It was odd because up to that point, I’m not sure I’d had a direct conversation with him or that he even knew my name.

I said I didn’t know the precise provenance but I knew there were lots of Eastleys in Devon, especially around the Paignton area.

Spud’s eyes lit up. He would have been very familiar with Devon because of a Marist training college in Paignton and also his headship of the Marist School in Winslade Park, Clyst St Mary, near Exeter. So, he may well have encountered the name Eastley before.

‘East-ley,’ he said, lingering on the first syllable.  ‘East-ley. It’s a rather curious surname. I can tell you what it means you know,’ he said with a twinkle in his eye.

‘What does it mean, Father?’ I responded obligingly as I could tell he was enjoying this brief exchange.

‘Well,’ he said, warming to his theme, ‘a ley is a clearing, especially a clearing in woodland.’

I remember being surprised at the length of time he was spending explaining this to me. I assumed Marist priests were always terribly busy with little time for such trivialities.

‘So Eastley, your ancestors must have settled on the east side of a clearing in a wood, which is where your name would have come from.”

‘Thanks Father,’ I said. ‘That’s interesting because I live on a street called East Woodside in Bexley, which seems quite a coincidence. An incredible coincidence in fact.”

‘Is that so, son.?, he said. ‘Is that so. Now that is curious.’

‘Does this mean there will be Northleys, Southleys and Westleys, Father?’

‘You’d think so wouldn’t you,’ he said. ‘But that must wait for another time.’

And then the popular Marist was gone and I was left slightly bewildered but grateful for the time he’d taken to share this little gem with me.

In my year there was also Simon Earley (pronounced Early) or Sim as we knew him. He was from Bexleyheath, a close friend and a very able sportsman. But people often confused us especially as we sat next to each other in many classes and were a poor influence upon each other.

“I’m not rrrrrrrr-elishing this Earley/Eastley axis at all, you know,” boomed the great Ron Hesketh in one Geography lesson. “I think I’m going to have to break it up.”

Games master and Economics teacher Paul Hollingum was another who got us mixed up especially as we were both backs in the rugby team. Paul thought Eastley was Earley and Earley was Eastley.

I recall one exchange on the top pitch when Mr Hollingum thought I had been slow to pass the ball to Sim:

“Earley. You should have got the ball to Eastley quicker.”

“I’m Eastley, sir. That’s Earley. You wanted me to pass the ball to Earley, earlier.”

“Yes Earley, I mean Eastley. Pass it earlier to, er, Earley, Eastley.”

“Will do sir.”

At which point Sim piped up. “Yes sir, that’s Eastley and I’m Earley.”

Paul Hollingum: “You’re not early. You’re late. See me outside my office at lunchtime. And don’t be, er, late.”

This is my usual long-winded preamble to say that I’ve just posted the list of boys’ surnames beginning with E.

It is bookended by two boys from way back – Victor Eades who started at St Mary’s College in 1941 and John Ewood who joined two years earlier.

In between there are Edgecombes, Egans, Elliotts and Etheridges.

And, of course, the four Elvin brothers who all attended in the 1970s.