Stupid

I had one of those e-mail petitions today: Normally I just ignore them – even the ones I don’t agree with don’t upset me very much, but this one made me so angry that I decided to blog about it. Then I realised I was too angry to blog about it coherently, so let’s try something else.

There was a survey in the papers yesterday about the daft things tourist information officers get asked: One is Cumbria contributed “Can you show me on the map, where the English accent stops and the Scottish one begins?”, which is pretty good. The Edinburgh Tourist Office were asked what time the one o’clock gun fired, and someone visiting Surrey wanted to know “Is Dorking something that only English people do?” (actually, having been there, I think it probably is).

I love the idea of “Dorking” being a verb: One of my favourite road signs is in Sussex, near Arundel, and it points to “Ford Climping”.

“What did you do last weekend?”
“Oh, I went to Sussex to get my Ford climped”

Then of course, a friend of mine lives right alongside the Earwash Canal. I’m told it’s pronounced “Ereh-wash”, but I still think it’s funny. Local placename conventions can throw up some amusing items – in parts of Hampshire, a small vally is called a “bottom”, and there’s one I’ve visited called “Betty Mundy’s Bottom”. Would you build a house there?
“Where do you live?”
“I’m building a house in Betty Mundy’s Bottom”

And after work, of course, I went and did a geocache: Steve and Peter recently planted Peter’s Cache not far from home, so I went and found it!

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