What's in a name - part 2

Thinking of the funny names people sometimes have - and I forgot the chap who is rather wonderfully called 'Friend Wood' - also made me think of place names.

I remember being delighted as a child when we passed a signpost pointing one way to Ham Sandwich, while Pea Green was in the other direction. We also lived near the delightfully named Wyre Piddle, Grafton Flyford, Libbery and Upton Snodsbury. The thing is, I never thought they were funny when I lived near them. Now, living in Wales, I think they are hilarious.

That part of Worcestershire has some lovely names. My primary school was in Himbleton, a lovely bimbling sort of a name, pleasant in the mouth, rather like Ombersley which isn't all that far away. Imagine a Grundy saying those on the Archers (and we are talking Archers country here) and you know why the rural Worcestershire accent sounds like it does!

Many of the names pop up in David Mitchell's wonderful book 'Black Swan Green' which is an evocative tale of a Worcestershire childhood. Here the author uses the village names as names for people, such as a Mr Ockeridge. It's a really good read anyway, but knowledge of that particular part of the world turns the book into an absolute joy.

Now I live in an area with names almost incomprehensible to the non-Welsh, such as Mynachlogddu and Eglwyswrw. I was once told by the manager (yes, we had got that far) when I rang the AA for insurance that my house name couldn't possibly exist. It isn't a word, apparently. What a cheek!

At least, in Welsh, the place names mean something. Maenclochog, for example, means stone (Maen), ringing (clochog). A lovely little cottage nearby is called 'Travel' which has evolved from 'Ty'r Efail'. In England it would be called 'The Smithy'.

And that is another bugbear. People do move into the area, which is fine. But when they then immediately change their house name from something Welsh, such as 'Felin', into the English 'Mill', they don't exactly win friends or endear themselves to the local people. A delivery driver called round last week with a parcel. He then was looking for somewhere in the village called 'Little Stream'. He had no idea. He then worked out that what he was looking for was 'Fynnon Bach'. Ah ha! He's non-Welsh speaking too, but speaks 'place name Welsh'.

I do feel a little sorry for friends and relatives, though, particularly at this Christmas card-writing time of year. They do their best. Poor old Grandad Bob, for example, sends his letters to a mish-mash of our address, ending in 'Penbrookshire'. Close enough. Most try to make English sense out of the Welsh by adding a vowel or two, here and there, to make it more acceptable to the English palate. Our postman manages to find us, although sometimes we get letters with blue biro notes on saying things like: "NOT Carmarthenshire" or "near Maenclochog".

I once did a news story about a letter which was delivered to a woman in Fishguard. It had come all the way from Germany, if memory serves me correctly. The front of the envelope included a head and shoulders photograph of the woman, and the words: This Lady, Fishguard, Wales. It took only a day or so to reach her. Clever old Postie!