Last night, I dreamt that I wanted to change my name to "Knife" Mick McGee, having seen this name carved into a wooden sign by a rushing river.

"How cool would that be?" I imagined myself to be all tough, wearing flannel shirts, carrying axe handles, wearing thick, brown leather belts and sturdy green suspenders to keep my oversized dungarees from falling down. A lumberjack with a chip on his shoulder - that's "Knife" Mick McGee.