Fictional place names

I abhor the fictional place name of Broadchurch. The creator of this fictional place clearly knew nothing about the origin of place names. The place name does exist, but as two words and is very recent in comparison to most place names. But as a place name it has to make sense – and if we stop and think for a moment if a church is broad in one dimension, it must be narrow in the other. I doubt anyone will create a place named Narrowchurch (or Slimchurch), so why opt for Broadchurch?

Perhaps publishers and/or authors might want to look more carefully at their created place names – maybe I should offer a consultation service?

It did get me thinking about other fictional names and whether they really work of not. Are some possible? How many are implausible? Let’s have a look and we’ll start with the greatest soap opera on radio today – well maybe….

The Archers live in Ambridge and, as we known the local river is called the Am, the idea of the ‘bridge across the Am’ seems plausible. Except very few places names have ‘bridge’ in them when they were coined during the Saxon era (as most were). Amford, would be more likely, unless the river took the name of the place (a process known as back-formation) but then we would need Am to be a personal name – not implausible, but doesn’t rub well with me. Ambridge is in the county of Borsetshire, named after the county town of Borchester. This works rather well and I can’t find any criticism here. We also hear of the nearby villages of Penny Hassett, Loxley Barrett, Darrington, Hollerton, Edgeley, Waterly Cross, and Lakey Green – all of these are quite likely, so it’s a pity they didn’t get Ambridge quite right!

Harry Potter has Hogwarts and the nearby village of Hogsmeade – now while these would never work as English place names, as it is set in the wizarding world (and the characters hardly have ‘standard’ names) I can’t really offer any complaints here.

Dad’s Army was set in Walmington-on-Sea and it is a perfect name for the southeast coast.

Coronation Street has Weatherfield and here I have a problem. To define its origin takes no stretch of the imagination at all, but places were named to be recognized. All fields have weather, and fields are a rather late addition to place name elements. Having said that, if we accept the ‘field’ suffix there is no reason it could not be said to be an exposed or ‘cold’ field – hence Coldfield might have been more appropriate.

EastEnders has Walford which can only have come from Old English wahl ford meaning the ‘ford of the Welsh’. Now while having Welsh (correctly non-Saxons) in the London area is not out of the question, it is stretching it a little. Anyway, not getting into a debate about it – I don’t wanna talk about it, leave it out, sorted.

Pride and Prejudice has Pemberley and is close enough to Permberton for us to use similar origins. Thus penn bere leah or ‘the clearing by the hill where barley grows’.

Famous Five and Kirrin Island (and also the family name), takes its name from a mythological creature meaning ‘the little dark one’.

Hot Fuzz is set in the fictional village of Sandford – obviously ‘the sandy ford’ which does work well enough.

Heartbeat was set in Aidensfield and I have problems with the ‘field’ (see above) and the supposed personal name as the prefix. Just doesn’t work for a Yorkshire place name – although I admit it does sound plausible and I’d probably be okay with it if I didn’t know better.

All Creatures Great and Small took place in Darrowby where the suffix of by works perfectly and the prefix is almost ideal – Barrowby would have been better ‘the farmstead by the burial mound’, but I’ll accept the slight tweak as credible.

Casualty is in Holby, and I have a real problem here as the place is supposed to be around the Bristol area and yet ‘by’ names are virtually all found in the north and east of the country. And the first element also doesn’t work.

Middlemarch is a novel by George Eliot and the place name only half works – nothing wrong with ‘middle’ but the ‘marches’ are the English/Welsh border regions and that doesn’t quite ring true with the book. But as a title, it’s fine.

Market Blandings is the fictional location created by P. G. Wodehouse. Market is quite possible, and if we take Blandings as a family name (it is the name of the castle) it works fine.

Midsomer Murders and Midsomer – there is a Midsomer Norton in Somerset, where the Norton or ‘northern farmstead’ has the addition for distinction. That addition comes from the dedication to the church to St John, whose feast day is Midsummer’s Day.

The League of Gentlemen and Royston Vasey – there is a place called Royston in Hertfordshire, the place name meaning ‘Royce’s farmstead’. Vasey is a perfectly plausible addition from the local lord of the manor.

Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple lived in St Mary Mead and again another plausible place name.

Children once watched Camberwick Green, Chigley, and Trumpton all set in Trumptonshire. Camberwick is fine, ‘the specialized farmstead at the sheltered place’. Chigley is a little more problematical, for while the ‘clearing’ suffix works I can’t find anything which would give a prefix like ‘Chig’. And then there’s the county town, again the suffix of ‘farmstead’ is fine, but no notion of where the first part could come from. And before you write, these programmes were broadcast years before anyone had heard of anyone called Trump.

Nonverbal Language

For writers nonverbal communication allows them to reveal a character’s thoughts and emotions without lengthy descriptions. Such also means drawing the reader into the story, top feel as the character does. But I wondered just where these originate. Are they learned or evolutionary?

Chemical communications may be associated with animals, but humans still pick up such olfactory messages. Scientists disagree as to the extent which humans can detect messages, and some maintain these abilities to detect pheromones fade and even vanish as an individual matures, which explains the high divorce rate.

Gestures may possibly predate verbal communication. Certainly apes do get a message across in this manner.

Universal expressions come next. The sort of things which communicate emotions such as anger, disgust, fear, happiness, surprise, and sadness – all of which are seemingly involuntary and thus suggesting these are evolutionary. Eyebrows are particularly helpful.

Facial expressions are possibly also evolutionary, but there is the idea that some of these – puzzlement, for example – are as much learned as involuntary.

There are also learned cues, the nod being the most obvious. I tried nodding for ‘no’ and shaking me head for ‘yes’ and found it more difficult than writing with my non-dominant hand. So isn’t it evolutionary? It can’t be – for while nodded affirmatives are well-nigh universal, there are several parts of the world where the reverse is the case. Bulgaria and Albania are two examples, while Greece and Turkey employs a quick backward jerk of the head to indicate ‘no’.

Body language – posture, stance, eye contact (or lack of it) – are all learned from out cultural and social experiences.

Vocalisations might seem to fit in the non-verbal group – but we all make sounds which convey a message, but are not words and are understood across verbal language barriers. “Ah”, “hmm”, “huh” for example.

And finally there are proxemics – which if you don’t know (and I didn’t) refers to how we have learned to communicate through the use of personal space. (Sociable and welcoming into that space; or the reverse like me.)

As a writer I have never considered I could communicate the miserable misanthrope through the use of body language in a passage. But the idea is intriguing and well worth investigating.

Sheepish

When contemplating the word sheepish, I wondered whether it just might have a different etymology to the animal. And are there any other animal references used as adjectives? Well to start with the sheep, it’s purely from the Germanic language group, older versions use ‘ram’ and ‘ewe’. Note while Old English used scap for both singular and plural, Old Northumbrian used scipo as the singular.

Sheep has appeared in various idioms. Wolf in sheep’s clothing appears in Matthew 15; Counting sheep to induce sleep is recorded in 1854 but doesn’t seem to have become popular until the 1870s; giving sheep’s eyes is seen from 1520.

Sheepish used to mean ‘bashful’ is first seen in the 1690s, although Chaucer had used ‘sheepy’. As expected it has the same etymology.

When it comes to other animal-style adjectives, I could only really find one in regular use – Asinine correctly ‘relating to donkeys’ but also describing foolishness. Just why a donkey should be considered foolish, I have no clue.

A couple of other adjectives less commonly used, are: Vulpine for ‘cunning’; and Cervine ‘grace, elegance’.

I did find a few traits associated with certain animals. These describe traits attributed to such species, although I think they are being anthropomorphised instead of looking at the real reasons for such behavior.

Foxes are described as both sly and cunning – I think they mean ‘successful’.

Lions are often said to be majestic – clearly derived from the idea they are king of beasts, and that idea of anthropomorhising creatures is clear in such drivel as The Lion King and other Disney dross.

But the worst of the lot is surely describing a dog as ‘loyal’ – no, it wants food the easiest way possible and you’re its meal ticket.

A few other misnomers. Dead as a dodo – no, they’re not dead they’re extinct; dead as a badger would make more sense as the vast majority of badgers are seen at the side of the road with legs in the air.

As strong as an ox – ludicrous, an ox isn’t strong it’s big – and two oxen are twice as strong anyway.

Proud as a peacock – peacocks have a very small brain size relative to its body, it doesn’t have an IQ big enough to know what pride is.

Wise as an owl – on a list of birds, owls are only halfway when it comes to intellect.

On this day 146 years ago…..

…. Magistrates heard a case brought against a resident of Muckley Corner near Lichfield. Mr Eglinton, also resident at Muckley Corner, had put his hand in his pocket and bought a few glasses of whisky for a neighbour down on his luck. When he was found in a drunken state he was charged and thus in court, where magistrates fined him and his previously clean record had been spoiled.

Once again Mr Eglinton came to his rescue and paid his fine. However, magistrates did not think much of his benevolence and urged the police officers in the court to charge him with aiding and abetting, which they did. Eglinton was fined ten shillings and charged the costs for both cases.

Now I have the perfect excuse for not buying anyone a drink ever again.