The Grahams
I'm a Graham; at least I was until my father married my mother.
Her family finally settled down to farming in Ford/Etal but her father ran off with the circus and became a lion tamer.
We were not alone in our infamy: the bloody Armstrongs and Robsons were equally unpleasant... they are still a thorn in my side - having employed both over the years.
It has now become fashionable, up here on the borders, to take pride in your Reiver ancestry.
The value of such prestige is as debatable as the borderlands; although our Port wines can inspire such confidence.
Here's our crest:
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