What's in a name?

It's Monday. I'm driving to work, equal parts bleary-eyed and bleurghy-stomached.

Winding my way down the 591 towards Keswick, hopping onto the A66, muttering, "THIS is what an accelerator is for" at the tourist traffic, and grumbling at the slow-arse aggregate lorries. I finally get onto the last stretch of dual carriageway before work and end up pootling along behind a red van, with its company website emblazoned across its rear windows.

A website which appeared to read: wasdalecocks

I drove the next mile without seeing the road.

You see, Wasdale is a small lakeland valley, stark and beautiful. It's remote, isolated, and has a very small community of around 50 people. I know some of those people. Most of the people I know who might qualify to be in some way involved in a website called wasdalecocks are old and wrinkly. One, at least, is extremely fit and athletic, mildly famous and highly respected, but old and wrinkly nonetheless.

I'm suddenly stuck with the mental image of a few of these elders of the valley gathered round the camp fire comparing lengths or something.

Finally, the traffic opened up. "Ohhh," I said, overtaking. "It's SOCKS."