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The story behind the name.

When my eldest child was one year old, they were given a stuffed unicorn toy, who we named Gavin, much to the gift-giver’s surprise — “Unicorns can’t be boys! It has pink hair!”

Thankfully, in our house we don’t prescribe to heteronormative boundaries, so Gavin it was. A magical backstory was soon woven. Gavin the Unicorn was a cockney punk who was challenged by keeping up with his anarchist friends. One evening, after a few too many blue drinks, he got on the wrong train at East Croydon and ended up in North Wales with us.

He has been very happy here ever since, and now enjoys dancing, walks in the country, and the occasional glass of almond milk.

When it came to deciding our name, only one thing seemed fitting to encompass the mischievous, whimsical, inclusive spirit we embody thus, The Rogue Unicorn was born.

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