I love names. Picking my three children’s names Freddy, Lilac and Johnny was something that I gained so much pleasure from.

But choosing a business name… Where do you start?

When coming up with ideas for the name of my new venture, a pretty little horse box that we are converting into a luxury mobile wedding and event bar, I wanted to keep the connection with horses in the title. Scouring the internet one evening, I came across lots and lots of famous racehorse names I liked.

One of my favourites was ‘Remember Me. That is, until I did a Google search and realised this was the name of a funeral parlour!

I was also particularly struck by the story of Seabiscuit, the rags-to-riches tale of an American racehorse, who became an unlikely champion. I think it appealed to me because I was at a crossroads in my life. There’s something positive to be taken from Seabiscuit’s journey, encouraging people like me to have a go, take a risk and follow their dreams.

But, what really prompted me to take the leap with the little horse box was that last year, I was flying high at work, had the job of my childhood dreams, when suddenly, I became very ill and was diagnosed with work-related stress.

It was terrifying, I thought I was dying, I had a whole list of physical health complaints. I had no idea that I was suffering from stress and anxiety. Then it hit me. I suddenly realised that I had become somewhat of a willing horse. My GP advised me to simplify my life, which I am doing. In September, I will be working part-time in a new job that is much closer to home, and I am hoping to one day free myself from the rat race with this exciting venture. So, I was tempted to call the horse box bar, The Willing Horse. 


There’s also my heritage to consider (I don’t know how I should word this bit without sounding like I come from a generation of boozers), but I have grown up with stories about my grandfathers who loved a drink and a good, old knees-up! Both south Londoners, I’m sure they would laugh if they knew that I was going to have my own little bar. My Grandfather, Cyril, was a real character by all accounts. He lost his Covent Garden fruit and veg stall in a bet whilst out boozing. He would do crazy things like spending his whole week’s wages on crates full of tomatoes that he bought impulsively at the pub, and then would have no money left to pay the rent.

That’s not forgetting my Grandad, Bob, who, again, loved a drink or two in the working men’s clubs. So, in their honour, I almost called the horse box The Grandparents.

After throwing around all these names in my head, I started to call the box ‘The Little Horse Box in conversation, and it stuck. I kind of wish I had called it ‘The Pretty Little Horse Box now, but at least we have a name, and I do rather like it.

As someone who always dreams big, the aim is to eventually have a whole fleet of boxes… I better start thinking of some more names now!

Wish me luck!