"Normal for Norfolk" would be my title.
That's the English County of Norfolk, by the way (for the benefit of those American subscribers to commercial genealogy sites who continue to believe that the world has never extended beyond the coast of Virginia).
The acronym "NFN" was (allegedly, at any rate!) devised by Norfolk hospital doctors to categorise, in their case notes, patients of - shall we say - a more rustic or even intellectually-challenged, nature. The chances are that those doctors would have been "furriners", as we say, incomers who interpreted the natives' dialect and laid-back approach to life as evidence of in-breeding, especially given their propensity not to venture far beyond the villages of their birth: my own reed-thatcher forebears, for example, barely moved beyond a 20-mile radius for many generations. However, what some may have seen as evidence of a lack of aspiration or intellect may equally well be a reflection that life in a lovely part of the world, with a gentle pace of life, actually has much to commend it! It is perhaps ironic that the relative isolation of rural Norfolk and the lack of employment opportunities (once farming had become industrialised) that caused my grandfather's generation to head for cities such as London in search of work, has nowadays become the area's "unique selling point". Even today, there is not a single mile of motorway (freeway) within the county, and the road and rail connections to the nation's capital are distinctly antiquated, yet wealthy Londoners flock to acquire second homes in the county, a trend which will inevitably increase given today's coronavirus-induced appreciation of a less urban lifestyle. Indigenous and incomer communities co-exist relatively comfortably, yet an understanding of Norfolk dialect remains akin to a masonic handshake: if one pronounces the name of the coastal village of Stiffkey as "Stewkey", knows the purpose of "Elijahs" and can recall the vital role of the "Hunneycart" from visits to one's grandparents' rural hovels (sorry, idyllic holiday retreats), the chances are that a returnee to one's roots may avoid the dreaded designation of "furriner".
Having said that, life in a Georgian, Victorian or even Edwardian Norfolk village, may well have differed somewhat from that in less isolated, rural communities, posing problems for future family historians. Did my paternal grandfather and his eight "natural" siblings have the same father, or nine different ones? None is named on their respective birth certificates, and each invented a father's name (he was always conveniently deceased!) for the purpose of their marriage certificates. Similarly, why did his mother-in-law feel it necessary to invent a father for the purpose of her marriage certificate, and go by two different surnames up until that point, leaving her actual parents to be deduced from the Will of a half-brother?
"Normal for Norfolk" has more recently become a bit of a joke, brought to wider-spread attention by native comedians, and by a BBC television series about an eccentric Norfolk landowner trying hard to make a living from his family's modest estate. Disparaging though the phrase may have become, or perhaps has always been, there can be no doubting that the concept does have a degree of validity!