You can imagine my delight that Ross-On-Wye was known – from the 6th Century – as Ergyng. This does indeed literally translate to Land of the Hedgehog. Couple of problems with that; firstly the last two books I read on the History of Britain cast significant doubt that the Celts ever invaded. Or indeed existed as a defined race back 1500 years ago. Second, Saxons and then Normans changed the name twice more, and none of the new designations translate to anything snuffly and prickly.

Never mind, the oldest building in town has a hedgehog* and the little fella is cheekily presented on many a commercial emporium. My impulsive commitment to hand over real money to anyone sporting a hedgehog** has proved rather rash. So far I’ve eaten four cakes, three pasties, a brace of ice creams and am now the proud owner of a concrete mixer***

Still good Karma nevertheless and a fantastic excuse to sample the local pies. Got to go, feel the urge for another one.

* Picture of one obviously. Not one nailed to the town hall. Not since 2002 anyway.

** Not to be confused with the tragic haircut of the mid 1980s. A challenging combination oft he Mullet and the Mohican. It never really caught on.

*** Not quite. Carol convinced me the purchase of a small screwdriver was more appropriate.