SNSBI 2009 Falmouth meeting (Greenbank Hotel, 27–30 March)
This meeting was organized by Oliver Padel. There is a report in Nomina 32, 157–159.
Friday 27 March
Saturday 28 March
John Baker: Beyond the Burghal Hidage
Simon Draper: The significance of the burh in Anglo-Saxon England
Torsten Meissner: Personal names on the Celtic Fringe of the Roman Empire
John Davies: The significance of Old Testament personal names among Early Medieval Britons
James Butler: Names in dystopian literature
Kelly Kilpatrick: Island names in Adomnán's Vita Sancti Columbae: location and significance
Paul Cavill: Uses of personal and place-names in Old English poetry
Christine Leighton: Calendaring and indexing names in the Elizabethan patent rolls
Matthew Holford: Place-names and the editor of medieval records: revisiting Hunnisett's guidelines
Simon Taylor: Expansion and contraction of Gaelic in medieval Scotland: the onomastic evidence
John Davies: The paradox of medieval Scotland, 1093–1286 (prosopography)
Paul Tempan: Conferences on early medieval toponomy in Ireland and Scotland
Patrick Hanks: A revision of Reaney's Dictionary of Surnames
Alan James: The British language in the Old North
Sunday 29 March
Diana Whaley: Scarborough revisited
Carole Hough: The name-type Maidenwell
Aengus Finnegan: Townland names of County Westmeath
Kay Muhr: Some burial monuments in Ulster - their names and histories
Excursion by boat from the Prince of Wales Pier, up the river Fal to Malpas and stopping at St Mawes on return
Bernard Deacon: Surnames in early modern Cornwall
|The Greenbank Hotel
||View from the window of the lecture room |
|The lecture room|
|The boat at the quay
||On the boat|
|Looking across Falmouth harbour
||Oliver Padel giving his commentary |
|St Just on the east bank of the river
||Trelissick house on the west bank of the river|
|King Harry Ferry leaving west bank - Ships moored in river for storage
||Approaching Malpas. At the state of the tide, we could go no further|
|looking up the east branch of the river towards Tresillian
||Oliver Padel tells us about Malpas|
|House on the the east bank of the river, just above the ferry
||St. Mawes Castle|
|Inside the restaurant
||Re-embarking at St. Mawes|
Fine Fishy Ferlies at Falmouth.
by Peter Kitson
Tune: Song of the Western Men.
When namers came to Falmouth Town,
Their exploits to pursue,
Their weather eyes were much perplexed:
It rained while sun gleamed through.
White yard-high letters marked the strand
Where their sojourn should be,
As if to call as guests to land
Corsairs from Barbary.
The landscape took historic hues,
Much green, some herring-red;
Young women tended transhumed ewes
In a one-person shed.
Two tradesmen to their workshop bench
Upon the morrow came.
The first watch singed the staff of life
With burning beacon-flame;
The second cloaked in teasing terms
Of angled ovals round
Half-buried boroughs' bulwark berets
In streets or parkland found.
Next Quietus Candidinius
Would set our fancies freer
To keep the tale that St. Jerome
Heard Celtic speech in Trier.
Big Brother's Glasgow acolyte
Damned cherry-picking styles,
Then Alabama's Wadhamite
Sought Adamnanic isles.
Swift streams of something not quite nice
Made runic riddles rank,
And England's treasure-givers dinged
Dire foes till down they sank.
With subtle doctrines pro and con
Were largely overset
Commandments graven late in stone
By the prophet Hunnisett.
The Poms in Scots beguiled the eve
With paradoxes rare;
Goscuthbert, Gillemichael's father,
Flourished at Traquhair.
Had stacks of things to teach
Of past and future pinnacles
That ev'n goats could not reach.
And when the Factoids were full-sung
And M had followed A,
The barside night might still be young
But Dogshanks fled away.
If saga heroes earnt their meed
Of praise in next day's rhyme,
It seems they must have done the deed
In saga flexi-time.
Preferring what Reformers call
A killjoy lady would part all
Young women from their springs.
Then striking while the anvil's hot,
Via bush of hero-bands
A cunning West Kilkennite comes
To rest in hometown lands.
The energetic onomasts |
Find space to draw their breath
Where Ireland's storied landscape's strewn
With beds of sudden death.
An ancient pair of standing stones
Or monumental heap
Will roving recent chieftains' bones
In part-asylum keep.
So we should honour polymaths
(This side-reflection means
That that is not what this year some
Historian(s) chose at Queen's).
Hying forth all then rejoiced to see,
With heaviest clothing on,
This was the single day of three
That the world-candle shone.
Uphill and down past open opes
They toil and they career
To board a collie-guarded boat
At a three-feathered pier.
To naturalists in half-high seas
Beneath a brisk clear heaven
The Black Rock was an open book
With seals one less than seven.
Thence sail was made up Carrick Roads
With rarities to port:
Autochthonous Trefusis and
Great woods of nasal sort.
They starboard tacked past Turnaware
And bishops' tall domains,
Where oaks bow down to water and
King Harry clanks his chains.
The corsair ships lay two by two
In neat mid-river line,
Discharged long since the rascal crews
To quaff their strengthened wine.
Navigation's limit, Malpas ford,
Yields a ferly to review:
A mad onomast mired to the knees
In the lesser stream of two.
Coasting down along the western bank,
Its topography acquaints
Us with churches by the waterside
Used by millstone-sailing saints.
Last we veer down through the outer zone
To take tea upon the shores
Of that stymier of good English ears,
The singular St. Mawes.
The closing service heard a man
Of minor orders preach
How Georgian mapping dated wrong
The loss of Cornish speech.
In parting converse, hints were caught
Of quests in future time,
How next year we should seek the fort
Of Merlin estuarine.
This year much thanks to Darwin's kin
For bardic memory
Of posthumous achievements of
King Arthur and St. Kea.