Thought it might be worthwhile sharing a snippet or two from these etymological presentations, continuing with Origins of Pub Names
If you think you know someone who would like to hear me speak on this subject, drop me a line.
Sunday, 28 December 2025
Origins of Pub Names
A few will be aware I have been known to speak on various subjects over the years. Fundamentally these all revolve around my favourite subject of etymology. Have always enjoyed bringing this fascinating subject to others. It’s not for me to say whether the audiences have, although many have asked me to return.
Thought it might be worthwhile sharing a snippet or two from these etymological presentations, continuing with Origins of Pub Names
I once worked at a pub called the Ale Stake. It had the story of the origin of the name on the wall, saying it recalled Saxon to Medieval times, when travelers were alerted to a home brew available nearby with a tree where the lower branches had been removed and a sheaf of barley tied at eye level.
Pub names generally fall into a handful of categories: Heraldic, such as the Red lion; Royalist, the Royal Oak being one; the church, such as the Cross Keys; the product, the Three Tuns; and welcoming and humorous, such as the Dew Drop Inn.
If you think you know someone who would like to hear me speak on this subject, drop me a line.
Thought it might be worthwhile sharing a snippet or two from these etymological presentations, continuing with Origins of Pub Names
If you think you know someone who would like to hear me speak on this subject, drop me a line.
Sunday, 21 December 2025
Privies
A few will be aware I have been known to speak on various subjects over the years. Fundamentally these all revolve around my favourite subject of etymology. Have always enjoyed bringing this fascinating subject to others. It’s not for me to say whether the audiences have, although many have asked me to return.
Thought it might be worthwhile sharing a snippet or two from these presentations, continuing with Privies.
Pop to the loo, go, flush, wash. Nothing could be simpler in the modern world but it wasn't always like this. Our parents, grandparents, and earlier generations had to toddle off down the path to the privy at the bottom of garden. During warm summer days the hole in a board with no flush or sewage system sounds bad enough - but after dark and in the depths of winter armed with only a candle? A number of narratives from the Toilet Tales of Yesteryear and told as only the British can.
Gongfermors, or night soil men, were charged with emptying privies. They would do this regularly, the regularity depending on the size of the pit below. One such pit was in the Bishop’s Medieval Palace in Lincoln, where the detritus down the pit would be cleared out regularly – every 50 years, on average.
Another tale comes from Europe and the thoroughly dislikeable Frederick Barbarossa. Even the man himself realised how much he was hated, and knowing he was most likely to be assassinated whilst paying a visit, ordered that nobody should visit the privy unless he did.
With the whole entourage answering a call of nature together – be they male or female – it put a great deal of strain on the wooden flooring. Eventually the combination of the weight of people and the rotting wood resulted in the floor giving way and several ‘visitors’ disappeared into the morass below – four of whom were never seen or heard of again.
Finally I once discovered a large urinal in a museum, where an image of a bee was to be seen at around knee height. When I asked why it was there, I was told it was a target – hit the target, no splash back. I then asked why a bee, and was told because the Latin name for a bee is apis. And they say these Victorians had no sense of humour.
If you think you know someone who would like to hear me speak on this subject, drop me a line.
Thought it might be worthwhile sharing a snippet or two from these presentations, continuing with Privies.
Pop to the loo, go, flush, wash. Nothing could be simpler in the modern world but it wasn't always like this. Our parents, grandparents, and earlier generations had to toddle off down the path to the privy at the bottom of garden. During warm summer days the hole in a board with no flush or sewage system sounds bad enough - but after dark and in the depths of winter armed with only a candle? A number of narratives from the Toilet Tales of Yesteryear and told as only the British can.
Gongfermors, or night soil men, were charged with emptying privies. They would do this regularly, the regularity depending on the size of the pit below. One such pit was in the Bishop’s Medieval Palace in Lincoln, where the detritus down the pit would be cleared out regularly – every 50 years, on average.
Another tale comes from Europe and the thoroughly dislikeable Frederick Barbarossa. Even the man himself realised how much he was hated, and knowing he was most likely to be assassinated whilst paying a visit, ordered that nobody should visit the privy unless he did.
With the whole entourage answering a call of nature together – be they male or female – it put a great deal of strain on the wooden flooring. Eventually the combination of the weight of people and the rotting wood resulted in the floor giving way and several ‘visitors’ disappeared into the morass below – four of whom were never seen or heard of again.
Finally I once discovered a large urinal in a museum, where an image of a bee was to be seen at around knee height. When I asked why it was there, I was told it was a target – hit the target, no splash back. I then asked why a bee, and was told because the Latin name for a bee is apis. And they say these Victorians had no sense of humour.
If you think you know someone who would like to hear me speak on this subject, drop me a line.
Monday, 15 December 2025
Not the Normal Paranormal
A few will be aware I have been known to speak on various subjects over the years. Fundamentally these all revolve around my favourite subject of etymology. Have always enjoyed bringing this fascinating subject to others. It’s not for me to say whether the audiences have, although many have asked me to return.
Thought it might be worthwhile sharing a snippet or two from these etymological presentations, continuing with Not the Normal Paranormal.
Here the hour or so sees how I was introduced to the subject and began to write about same, how I research the stories, and my own experiences. A snippet or two from each of my paranormal books ends with the tale of the oddest of telephone calls (which I still don't understand) and then questions from the audience.
Perhaps one of my favourite stories comes from Birmingham and the Old Crown at Deritend. It is claimed to be the oldest pub in Birmingham, it has not always been a pub but is the licensed premises occupying the oldest building in the Second City. There are numerous ghostly reports from this place, but one stands out.
Today the pub offers a room for the night, but owing to building restrictions there are a couple of things which the Old Crown was unable to provide at the time. First there are no en suites in any of the rooms; next the shutters on the windows do not exclude all the light from the busy High Street outside; and finally there are no locks on the doors but a peg is inserted in the latch when inside the room. I mention these three key points as they are all relevant to the story.
A couple of thirty-somethings – we’ll call the Dick and Jane - opted for a weekend in Birmingham to liven up their marriage. After a meal and few drinks in the city centre, they returned to the Old Crown for drinks and an early night. Upstairs in their room, with shutters drawn and peg inserted in the latch, they did what comes naturally to couples in love. (That’s sex, if you don’t know or can’t remember.)
In the early hours of the morning Dick awoke and found he had to answer a call of nature. He tried to ignore it, having no en suite, but eventually had fold back the quilt, slide out of bed, slip on his trousers and, having removed the peg, managed to slip out of the room and pad quietly along the corridor to the visit the facilities.
Minutes later, suitably relieved, he padded back to the room but stopped when reaching the door which he had left ajar. Standing outside he could not believe his ears. From inside the room came noises, sounds he was very familiar with, and sounds he had heard earlier in the evening from Jane. Indeed, they were very recognizably from Jane.
Dick jumped to the conclusion that someone had taken his place in the bed. But for reasons I have never understood, decided to wait outside until the intruder emerged (the door being his only avenue of escape) instead of rushing in and coming to Jane’s rescue. But this plan fell through when, despite the ‘action’ inside the room clearly having reaching a conclusion, nobody emerged.
In rushed Dick (perhaps I should have chosen a different name) to gallantly defend Jane’s honour, only to find she was lying in bed exactly as he had left her and the bedclothes just as he had left them. Perplexed, Dick removed his trousers, slid into bed and, just as he pulled the quilt across, Jane turned over, three an arm and a leg over him and announced “That was the best EVER!”
Dick later told me he has never had the nerve to tell her he wasn’t in the room at the time.
Having related this story when giving this talk, I have been asked several times the room number and I can reveal this to be …… well you will have to read the book or book me for the talk to find out.
If you think you know someone who would like to hear me speak on this subject, drop me a line.
Thought it might be worthwhile sharing a snippet or two from these etymological presentations, continuing with Not the Normal Paranormal.
Here the hour or so sees how I was introduced to the subject and began to write about same, how I research the stories, and my own experiences. A snippet or two from each of my paranormal books ends with the tale of the oddest of telephone calls (which I still don't understand) and then questions from the audience.
Perhaps one of my favourite stories comes from Birmingham and the Old Crown at Deritend. It is claimed to be the oldest pub in Birmingham, it has not always been a pub but is the licensed premises occupying the oldest building in the Second City. There are numerous ghostly reports from this place, but one stands out.
Today the pub offers a room for the night, but owing to building restrictions there are a couple of things which the Old Crown was unable to provide at the time. First there are no en suites in any of the rooms; next the shutters on the windows do not exclude all the light from the busy High Street outside; and finally there are no locks on the doors but a peg is inserted in the latch when inside the room. I mention these three key points as they are all relevant to the story.
A couple of thirty-somethings – we’ll call the Dick and Jane - opted for a weekend in Birmingham to liven up their marriage. After a meal and few drinks in the city centre, they returned to the Old Crown for drinks and an early night. Upstairs in their room, with shutters drawn and peg inserted in the latch, they did what comes naturally to couples in love. (That’s sex, if you don’t know or can’t remember.)
In the early hours of the morning Dick awoke and found he had to answer a call of nature. He tried to ignore it, having no en suite, but eventually had fold back the quilt, slide out of bed, slip on his trousers and, having removed the peg, managed to slip out of the room and pad quietly along the corridor to the visit the facilities.
Minutes later, suitably relieved, he padded back to the room but stopped when reaching the door which he had left ajar. Standing outside he could not believe his ears. From inside the room came noises, sounds he was very familiar with, and sounds he had heard earlier in the evening from Jane. Indeed, they were very recognizably from Jane.
Dick jumped to the conclusion that someone had taken his place in the bed. But for reasons I have never understood, decided to wait outside until the intruder emerged (the door being his only avenue of escape) instead of rushing in and coming to Jane’s rescue. But this plan fell through when, despite the ‘action’ inside the room clearly having reaching a conclusion, nobody emerged.
In rushed Dick (perhaps I should have chosen a different name) to gallantly defend Jane’s honour, only to find she was lying in bed exactly as he had left her and the bedclothes just as he had left them. Perplexed, Dick removed his trousers, slid into bed and, just as he pulled the quilt across, Jane turned over, three an arm and a leg over him and announced “That was the best EVER!”
Dick later told me he has never had the nerve to tell her he wasn’t in the room at the time.
Having related this story when giving this talk, I have been asked several times the room number and I can reveal this to be …… well you will have to read the book or book me for the talk to find out.
If you think you know someone who would like to hear me speak on this subject, drop me a line.
Sunday, 7 December 2025
Origins of Place Names
A few will be aware I have been known to speak on various subjects over the years. Fundamentally these all revolve around my favourite subject of etymology. Have always enjoyed bringing this fascinating subject to others. It’s not for me to say whether the audiences have, although many have asked me to return.
Thought it might be worthwhile sharing a snippet or two from these etymological presentations, starting with the one I have done more than any other: Origins of Place Names.
Lasting for approximately an hour, although as the subject is almost inexhaustible this could be extended to for as long as you're willing to pay! Following an initial 20 minutes or so when I cover how I got interested in the subject and what it takes to research, and thus produce the book, I open it up to a question and answer session. I work much better 'off the cuff' and it also means the audience get the answers to the questions which intrigue them and not just those which interest me. It also means the speaker has no more knowledge as to what is coming than the audience does, leaving plenty of opportunity for me to reveal my rather quirky sense of humour.
During these Q&A sessions I’m often asked my favourite place name. Predictably this is not something I can answer. Like songs, films, books (unless it’s mine) these change all the time. But I can give an example of what I think is an interesting route to a place name – hopefully you will agree.
Almost on the border between Shropshire and Denbighshire stands the village of Loggerheads. Unusually the name possibly comes from a dispute over estate boundaries, but perhaps a better explanation is that it comes from the name of the public house. This watering hole is named We Three Loggerheads, taken from a painting by Richard Wilson.
The early 17th century painting shows two jesters with a marotte (a fool’s stick) with the caption We Three Loggerheads. The question the observer always asks is ‘Where is the third?’, to which the answer is they who asks the question.
Not in use today, the term ‘loggerhead’ is first used in the 1580s to describe a ‘stupid person, blockhead, dunce, numbskull’. The term is also used a century later to refer to ‘a type of cannon shot’, ‘a post in the stern of a boat’, and also ‘a type of turtle’. Two decades later the term is also used to refer to ‘fighting’.
If you think you know someone who would like to hear me speak on this subject, drop me a line.
Thought it might be worthwhile sharing a snippet or two from these etymological presentations, starting with the one I have done more than any other: Origins of Place Names.
Lasting for approximately an hour, although as the subject is almost inexhaustible this could be extended to for as long as you're willing to pay! Following an initial 20 minutes or so when I cover how I got interested in the subject and what it takes to research, and thus produce the book, I open it up to a question and answer session. I work much better 'off the cuff' and it also means the audience get the answers to the questions which intrigue them and not just those which interest me. It also means the speaker has no more knowledge as to what is coming than the audience does, leaving plenty of opportunity for me to reveal my rather quirky sense of humour.
Almost on the border between Shropshire and Denbighshire stands the village of Loggerheads. Unusually the name possibly comes from a dispute over estate boundaries, but perhaps a better explanation is that it comes from the name of the public house. This watering hole is named We Three Loggerheads, taken from a painting by Richard Wilson.
The early 17th century painting shows two jesters with a marotte (a fool’s stick) with the caption We Three Loggerheads. The question the observer always asks is ‘Where is the third?’, to which the answer is they who asks the question.
Not in use today, the term ‘loggerhead’ is first used in the 1580s to describe a ‘stupid person, blockhead, dunce, numbskull’. The term is also used a century later to refer to ‘a type of cannon shot’, ‘a post in the stern of a boat’, and also ‘a type of turtle’. Two decades later the term is also used to refer to ‘fighting’.
If you think you know someone who would like to hear me speak on this subject, drop me a line.
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