This and that

My ancestors came from all over the British Isles, and for all I know some of my Scottish and English forebears might have killed each other at the Battle of Culloden. Scotland is a place I have been in and out of all my life, and some of my happiest holidays have been there. I can understand them wanting to cut loose from the United Kingdom, but I'm so glad they didn't.

And now, I'm thinking about names. I'm turning over ideas for a new book, and more and more I like to play with names.

In the book which is coming out next year - The Summer Lion - I really went to town on names. I used a character that Tony and I made up years ago, The Honourable Mrs Veronica Thumping-Jolly. I took a middle name each from my mum and Tony's mum and made Elizabeth Andrina, known as Drina. She was going to be a Jones, but then I remembered what sort of book this is and called her Elizabeth Andrina Snapdragon. Her favourite cousins are Taffeta Fiddlestep and Billy Will-Do Fiddlestep, and if you want to know why he's Billy Will-Do you'll have to read it when it comes out. And now, again, I'm playing with names and not playing safe.

I want names that stay in your head. I want names like Venetia Scraggins, Septimus Mumblegoffin, Lord Snaffleworth. Charles Dickens was brilliant at this sort of thing. He invented Nicodemus Boffin, Mulberry Hawke, Ebenezer Scrooge and Wackford Squeers. Those are great names. I can't remember the first name of Mr Snodgrass in Pickwick Papers, but it must have been good, as I said to Lentilla Prettyboots this morning.

For all of you who try to write, have a go at this. Make up a character with an outrageous name. Then ask him/her a few questions. With any luck, you'll get answers.

And now, I know you're dying to hear about The Archers. Well - the Roy and Elizabeth thing has ended in tears, but we knew that would happen, didn't we? Hayley is being wonderful about it, but she's not thrilled, especially what with Mike and Vicky and little Bethany moving away. Ridiculous. Mike is a real straw-chewing, muddy boots, wading through cow poo son of the soil, and he's going to live in Birmingham. Good luck with that, as they say.

You remember drippy James and Leonie? They've had a wet little baby boy and called him Mungo. If you think that's bad, it was going to be Mowgli. In honour of the occasion, his step-granny's garden flooded.