ve to hear any more of that crap.
So – dammit – enough is enough. I’m here to assert that we in England do have something to be proud of nomenclature-wise – our village names!
Some areas are especially rich. Where are we here? Oughtershaw, Yockenthwaite, Sedbusk, Hubberholme. The Yorkshire Dales of course – just west of Low Borrowbridge, Newbiggin-on-Lune, Maulds Meaburn and Crosby Ravensworth.
Or let’s head south: Piddletrenthide, Haselbury Plucknett, Mappowder, Toller Porcorum, Fifehead Magdalen, Melcombe Bingham (just up from Bingham’s Melcombe), Dowlish Wake, Sutton Poyntz, Melbury Bubb, Sydling St Nicholas…. yes indeed, we’re in Dorset.
And not forgetting Cornwall: Muchlarnick, Propidnick, Towednack, Porthgwarra, Praze-an-Beeble, Nanquidno, Tredrizzick….
But really, anywhere’ll do. Open the atlas at random….Burstwick, Sproatley, Burton Pidsea, Skeffling, Sigglesthorne, Thorngumbald, Owstwick, Great Kelk and Little Kelk…Yorkshire again, near Hull.
I could go on. In fact I will go on. Glooston, Carlton Curlieu, Bruntingthorpe, Copston Magna, Willoughby Waterleys, Peatling Parva, Husbands Bosworth, Theddingworth, Marston Trussell…all just south of Leicester, another random choice.
I’ll spare you any more, but I hope I’ve made my point. We have our own anglo-saxon poetry – and without cheating by crossing over the Welsh border. What it is, it’s (do you hear the swelling strains of Elgar?) the rich palimpsest of our nation’s heritage, stretched out across the green sward of England. Oh yes.
Right, enough of that bollocks…all together now…”By the time I get to Bootle….”.
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