The One Glossop… and the Many Glossops

What ho, wonderful folk! Summer is almost upon us, and we enter the finest time of year. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m fond of spring, and autumn is good. Even winter with it’s cold and dark can be lightened and warmed with a good fire and a glass of the stuff that cheers (if taken in the right dosage, as I am often reminded by the good Mrs C-G). But no, ask old TC-G which season he likes most, and the answer will always be… summer. This time of year fills me with a particular joy; it puts a spring in my step, a smile on the old fizzog, and a stirring in the loins (although that’s possibly the onion soup I had for lunch). Summer is indeed ‘icumen in’.

And indeed, it’s the stuff that cheers that leads us to today’s blog post – something a bit different, but fret not dear and gentle readers, for when have I ever steered you wrong?

I wonder then have you ever found yourself, glass in hand and perhaps swaying slightly, in a place to which you never set out to journey? I certainly have (and no, not that Turkish bordello… for the last time, I was only in there to ask for directions to the post office). No, a chance encounter with a place, perhaps exotic, otherworldy, strange and alien, like no other place on earth, and yet familiar? A few months ago I found myself, quite by accident, in The Globe pub quiz (and good evening JS!). It was a difficult quiz, and involved much mashing of the old B, and a distinct straining of the dashed M… if you catch one’s meaning.

But one question in particular flummoxed me: “How many Glossops are there?”.

I mean, there’s an existential crisis… what? Why surely there is only one? The singular, unique, one-of-a-kind place that we call home. This royal throne of kings, this scepter’d isle. This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, this other Eden, demi-paradise. This fortress built by Nature for herself against infection and the hand of war. This blessed plot, this earth, this realm. This Glossop. (ok, I might have had a bit of help with the words there… my thanks to William what’s-his-face).

But no… apparently there are three. Who knew? Well, the quizmaster did. And several of the other teams did, apparently. But I bloody well didn’t. Not that I’m bitter or anything. And besides, none of the other teams could answer any of the questions in the ‘Pottery Identification’ round (alas, if only such a wondrous beast existed… one can but dream). 

So then, two other Glossops… blimey, there’s a thought. What wonders could these places offer us, what unearthly delights akin to the Globe quiz? Well, dear and gentle reader, let’s find out.

Introducing Glossop Number 2

Glossop, South Australia. A town roughly 250 miles north east of Adelaide (and just a mile or so north of the splendidly named township of ‘Winkie’). It’s a small place, with a population in 2016 of just 984 (compared with our Glossop’s 33,340 in 2021), mainly rural, and surrounded on all sides by vineyards – it’s right in the wine growing region, lucky people! (and presumably then the weather would be a tad warmer than that found in our corner of North Derbyshire!).

It was founded in 1921 as a settlement for returning soldiers, and is named after the equally splendidly named Vice Admiral John Collings Taswell Glossop (if anyone knows their Jeeves and Wooster, this could be Tuppy Glossop’s uncle). Vice Admiral Glossop was in command of HMAS Australia during the First World War, and was very active in the Royal Navy’s Australian wing.  

There looks to be some great camping and hiking to be done in the area, and there are several national parks based around the Murray River there. That stated, there’s not a lot more to say about the place, to be honest, but do feel free to have an explore on the internet, or in real life (oooooh, a tour of the wine country could be fun!). If you live in Glossop, Australia, and have stumbled upon this site, then please let yourself be known – we’d love to hear from you. 

But wait, there’s more!

In New South Wales, Australia, there is a Glossop Reservoir. Situated near to the village of Linden, 40 miles NW of Sydney, it’s located at the end of Glossop Road, and absolutely smack dab in the middle of nowhere.

I wonder why they have the name Glossop? Perhaps also connected to our man Vice Admiral Glossop? There is no more information I can find out about this place at all, so any information you have would be gratefully received.

And now for Glossop Number 3.

Will this Glossop be a throbbing metropolis? A mecca of marvelousness? A seething mass of humanity? A place of culture and wonder, or a modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah? Well, not exactly…

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Glossop, Manitoba, Canada.

Well, what can we say about Glossop, Manitoba.

Well, no matter how you feel about Glossop, Derbyshire, it has something going for it. And as small as Glossop, South Australia, is, it has life… in that people actually live there. Glossop, Manitoba is… well… a road, next to a rail track. With some grain elevators on it.

There must be something nearby… surely. Let’s look down the road:

What we can say is that it is situated 604m (1982ft) above sea level, is on the trans-Canadian Yellowhead highway, and is broadly equidistant between the settlements of Newdale and Strathclair… both of which seem to be quite nice, if on the small size (population “perhaps 200” and 709 respectively). What we can’t say, however, is why this place has the name Glossop, although presumably it’s named after someone with that surname.

However, a little more digging and… it turns out the grain silos are interesting.

Well… ok, let’s be honest for a moment, anyone who has ever read anything on this website knows that the word ‘interesting’ is very flexible (and honestly, we have stretched that word to the limit on this site), and I’m painfully aware that my particular niche interest doesn’t ring everyone’s bell. But even by our own relaxed standards, these grain elevators aren’t exactly riveting. However, this is exactly the sort of thing the internet was invented for – people with niche and minority interests meeting each other and sharing information – after all I’m here writing this, and all six of you (including Pablo in Puerto Rico… hola Pablo!) are out there reading it. The website ‘Grain Elevators of Canada’ has a whole page dedicated to those at Glossop, Manitoba, but I’m not going to steal their thunder, instead please do go and have a look at it.

But wait, there’s more…

Some 350 miles north east of Glossop, Manitoba, is Glossop Lake.

Even by Canadian standards, this place is in the middle of nowhere: 40 miles NE of the nearest settlement (Pikwitonei, population 55), and 150 miles east of Thompson, the ‘capital’ of northern Manitoba (population “fewer than 15,000”). You could only get to this place by hiking for several days, or possibly by boat. It is truly remote.

Which makes it particularly baffling that the only information about Glossop Lake available on the internet are from a Wikipedia page written in Cebuano, a language spoken almost exclusively in the Southern Phillipines… and with no obvious connection with an obscure lake in the frozen north of the Canadian wilds! Bizarre!

So what can we say about Lake Glossop. Well, it’s a shallow lake, situated 200m above sea level, and covers an area of 1.35km2. It is mostly pine covered, and the average temperature for the area is -5… so you’ll probably not want to go skinny dipping any time soon. There is neither a photograph, nor an explanation as to why it is called Glossop Lake, though presumably again named after a person.

So there we have it – the many Glossops of the world. I’d like to do a roadtrip to find these places, but honestly… that seems like a lot of hard work for very little reward! However, if anyone is going to any of the places mentioned, please let me know.

And whilst this post is not overtly archaeological, it does have some relevance. Gamesley, Simmondley, and even Glossop itself are all named after people, and all were imposed on the landscape by Anglo-Saxon settlers. What the native British (the ‘Celtic’ Romano British) called the area, if it had one, is lost to us (Dinting being the exception). This habit of naming after people or features in your own language can also be very helpful in identifying settlement patterns, ages, and the origins of the people doing the naming. And here it does get interesting. Simmondley means “the clearing” (or ley) belonging to someone called either Sigemund or Sigmundr. The former is a Saxon name, but the latter, however, is a Norse (Viking) name, and that might be important. I have a pet theory… we know that a small group of Scandinavians were allowed to settle in the hills to the east of Manchester, and there are a cluster of possible/probable Scandinavian names in the Simmondly area: sitch, storth, gate, nab, and possibly others. It makes me wonder if Simmondley’s origins are more Viking than Saxon. Just a thought, but it does illustrate the importance of names in a landscape. I’ll expand on this another time.

But for now, take care of yourselves and each other.

And I remain, your humble servant

TCG