Monday 26 April 2010

RURAL NAMES

People out here in the sticks sometimes have odd names. The man who has the farm in the middle of the village is called by everyone Joergen Cat. He doesn't in fact own a cat, but simply feeds all of the strays who hang around. My wife has a cousin, an electrician who grows potatoes on the side; he is known as Potato Lars. He sells a proportion of his crop at a stall on the edge of town at his friend Aage's house. Because Aage also sells B.P. propane gas canisters, he is called Gas Aage. Perhaps the oddest name is Ole Milkman. Ole is not a milkman, but his family used to have a farm shop selling dairy products. But that was in Ole's father's time, and Ole has simply inherited the nametag from his dad.

This bizarre nomenclature is an echo of a bygone era. In the Middle Ages, most people only had one name, the Christian name given to them when they were baptized. As horizons widened and the population grew, surnames began to appear, either "son of" formulations (Williamson, Wilkinson etc) or job descriptions. Many common surnames today - Smith, Shepherd, Taylor, Mercer, Thatcher, Miller, Knight - reflect important mediaeval activities.

Perhaps it is only me, a foreigner, who thinks the local system is slightly weird. But I know I will have been accepted when they start calling me Walter Blogger.

Walter Blotscher

2 comments:

  1. My father had a farm in Ireland, where I grew up. One of his (old) farm hands was known as The King. He had no royal connections, of course, but his surname was O'Brian. The last king of Ireland was named Brian Boru. Hence The King.

    The King was a great character. For instance, when finished shaving, he would throw the used razor blade out of the bathroom window. Inevitably, one day he cut a finger very badly when doing some gardening. He wrapped the heavily bleeding finger in a bandage - but he did this by putting his finger up the chimney and winding a large cobweb around it!

    Then he came up the road to my mother 'because she would know what to do'. Without unwrapping the damaged digit she drove The King to the doctor, who pronounced that it was the cleanest wound he had ever seen.

    Not a rant, just an anecdote, but welcome Robert to the world of blogging. keep up the good work.

    Kieran

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  2. Hi Kieran,

    A nice story. I look forward to more comments.

    Walter

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