Following the Oulipian practise of constraint writting, Sans façon commissioned Ian Monk to create a poem using every single names of the 210 different house names in Long Eaton as part of Namesake.
One night
In Long Eaton
From York Road
To Neale Street on
The way from Addington House
To Albert Villas
Albert shivers
While from Algerine Terrace
To Ambleside
Amber and Al glide
From Amy Villa
To Arnside Cottages
Arn and Amy bring beer and sausages
While between Ash Lea
And Ashby Villas
Ashley (a bi) dithers
But between Ashdean Villas
And Ashfield House
Are scattered the cinders of a spouse
That will provide between Ashfield Villas
And Ashgrove Cottage
Splendid documentary footage
While between Ashleigh Villa
And Ashleigh Villas
Ashley now quivers
But then between Baden Villas
And Basford Villa
Her convictions gather
Between Batcombe House
And Beacon House
A bat swoops on a mouse
While from Belgrave Terrace
To Belmont Terrace
Church bells deter us
Even then between Bennet Villas
And Berry Cottages
Ben and Carrie chat about hostages
While in Blythe Villas
And Bourne House
A captain and six kids hang a grouse
Even as in Bowden Villas
And Brooke House
Foodies have dead things to souse
Although from Brook
To Brookfield Villas
Brood cereal killers ...
And later that night
In Long Eaton
From Curzon Street
To Douglas Road on
The way from Broseley
To Buckminster House
Albert tracks another spinsterish mouse
And from Burleigh Villas
To Carlsbrooke
Carl walks home his dream of a book
Between the Cedars
And Cedars 2
No one knows what the hell to do
Though between Charlton Cottage
And Clovelly
Bobby finds Amy so weirdly lovely
While from Conway Villa
To the Cottage
Drips the town s underground sewage
But from Cranmer Villas
To the Crescent
Your love smells so heaven sent
That from Dale Lea
To Dalehurst Villas
Our hand-in-hand future just shimmers
But between Dalehurst
And Eakring Terrace
Lurks Dale the Menace
And from Ebenezer Cottages
To Ebenezer Villas
The town scrooge considers
How from Eden View
To Ellerslie
A paradise could stretch for the free
Or with Elm Cottage
And Elm Villa
Houses avoid the Dutch tree killer
And between Enderby Cottage
And Esville
An imaginary poet
Has a deep swill
Then tells the tale of Ethel Dene a scoundrel who won a scholarship to study at Eton where he turned from bad to worse, eventually getting expelled for unnatural acts, then failing the entry exam to Cambridge. So he ended up studying medicine at Exeter university (how awful a fate for a fop) where, from his dreary digs in the old quarter, he did still have a fair view over the comings and goings of the town and its population: despite or because of the foulness around him (and which he stank of both inwardly and outwardly) he could still charm women witless. One such was Sarah Fairbourne, and fair born she was. Her dad owned lands and villas by the score. She fell into his arms, the poor love and is now buried in a fern clump on the lea of a lonely hill where her father later took up home in a windswept cottage and waited to join her ...
Meanwhile it s still night
In Long Eaton and from College Street
To Walton Street
And from Ferndale Villas
To Ferndale
Home coming babies in buggies wail
And from Fernon Villas
To Floradale
They tell the tale
Of Green Gables and Dick Garfield the former the name of the cottage which witnessed the action and the latter the name of the hero who dunnit (but of course you d guessed that already) so, to cut a short story even shorter, he ran one dank night into George the Liar Slayer who stood steaming booze into the night, shifting his feet awkwardly and staring cutely at the terrace house in front of him. It was one of those posh parts of town which go back to Gladstone, Disraeli or some such. Who cares, in fact? But right there and then, goes the tale, there in the house in front of him dwelt the three Glens: Glen Brae, Glen Esk and Glen Villas (vicious bastards all and sitting on a stash of banknotes robbed from neighbourhood bakeries, offies and grannies). Our hero shoved the Liar Slayer aside and dived straight in, not giving a toss about the consequences. The Glens drew like modern artists badly. Dick s first shot made the first Glen burn to the core. While theirs missed him. His second caught the second Glen and his girl, Dora Nice-Time, too. So now the only hood left was Villas. He at last gunned down Dick before going out to finish off the Liar Slayer in cold blood, like only a good Glen can do re me. Then this last surviving Glen buried them all (his accomplices and enemies) in the woody field behind his house and, on last spade full, decided to go straight. Glen then wed Rosa and Glen and she had Roy and they all lived happily never after in cousin Villas two up two down till good Glen as he was now termed passed away and was buried with the other scamps in the wood and his cottage became for the time being a haven of love with nothing to hide ...
But it's still night
In Long Eaton and from Grange Road
To Tamworth Road
A car has stretched out the death of a toad
While from Grange House
To Grasmere
All of our lovers steer
Their steps from Hay Croft
To Hayslea
To check out how the hay will be
While from Hazelhurst
To Hestia Villa
And from one Highfield
To another s High Field
The world and its witness yield
Meanwhile in the Hollies
And Holt Villas
Glisten prickles and glimmers
While at Home
And Hope Villas
Snug hopelessness simmers
Just look in at Ingham Villas
And the other Ingham Villas too
They re all so tickety boo
While in Inglehurst (one?)
And Inglehurst two
It's eat and spew and drink and chew
Meanwhile drifting from Ingleside
To Inglewood
A forgotten lover puts on his hood
While the dream bird in his mind is called Ivy and she works in a bank in downtown LA. But Ivy also has a cottage way out of town and in that Ivy cottage's garden the poison ivy of lust has crept snake-like up the walls. Its tentacles stick like the suckers of ivy with or without a capital 'I' on any town house or cottage. But that is LA and this is here and this is now, this is this darkling place this town called Little Eaton where ...
From Derby Road
To Walton Street
Eyes look at eyes look at feet
While from Ivydene to Kebir Terrace
And from Kenilworth To Key West
(or anywhere in fact)
La Concha will flash her bountiful chest
While from Laburnum Villa
To Lanrick House and
From Lansdowne Villa
To Leaside
The meaning of words seems to slide
From Leighton Villas and Lily Cottages
And from Llanver and Lorne Villa
(a song by Max Miller?)
Or from Loza and from Lyndhurst
Up to Lyndhurst cottages and Lynwood
(another rap from the boyz in the hood?)
Meanwhile, far away but right now, nature is being drowned in the Malvern Hills where villas and manors and cottages swamp the ferns and fauna that flourished so long. This evening, Albert lights a Marlboro, then gazes at the lamp-lit cottages over the road while sipping a scalding mug of Maxwell House ... He's thinking back to Long Eaton and to the lovely May in her villa, the lovely May in the her wild meadow lands around Merlwood. She was his heart of Midlothian and he lost her, lost her among the twisting roads and cottages of Long Eaton where, this night ...
From Milner Road
To Derby Road
Amy follows where Al once strode
While from Milner House
To Milton Terrace
God and the Devil deter us
While from Mizpah Terrace
To Montpellier
Mary runs home with her pay
And between Myrtle House
Then Myrtle Villas and the Myrtles
Little Jimmy blithely hurtles
While from Nelson Villas
To Netherleigh
Horatio stops for a pee
While from Niagara Cottage
To North View
Lost waters accrue
Meanwhile from Northreppës
To Norwood Villas
Prance fancy dress gorillas
While from Oakleigh Cottages
To Olive Cottage
Olive tumbles into dotage
But from Osborne Terrace
To Overdale
Ossie's booze count is off the scale
And from Oxmund House
To Poplar Cottages
Jimmy pictures secret passages
But from the Privet
To Quantock
Ossie's head echoes with rock
While in Roby Villas
Rose dreams of Albert in his cottage, and of Albert and Rose in their cottage and Albert and Rose and their kids in their cottages. Rose rolls over, beside her Lea dreams of villas in Saint Tropez of lovers lovelier than Rose and a villa classier than theirs, a top model on his arm, a Porch for him and a matching one for her, parked outside in the drive, but deeper into the night and ...
Deeper into Long Eaton
From Craig Street
To Manchester Street
Jean and John secretly meet
While between Rothwell Villas
And Ruskin Villas
Tommy catches caterpillars
And from The Rustic House
To Sandown Cottages
Folk lug back home the uneaten sausages
While from Sandringham Villa
To Scarrdale
Scarface Joe raises a wail
And from Selwyn Terrace
To Senekal Villas
He fantasies black-suited killers
And from Shanklin Cottages
To The Shrubbery
Dark and dismal skulduggery.
But still from Spring Cottage
To Sunney Villa
The miller's wife chases the miller
And from Tadema Cottages
To Thirlmere
Lawrence brings home the beer
And from Tilney All Saints Villas
To Tor View Villas
Young mums take home early stocking fillers
And from Townfield Cottages
To Trent Lea ...
Where Anthony dreams of Verona where Victoria and he spent the most marvellous weekend in this mostly lonely existence and how the cottage he now lives in seems so desperately empty without her. Meanwhile Victoria and her new lover s respective cottages lie empty, a wild vine smothers her cottage, and honeysuckle smothers his; they are now Mister and Mrs Walton and their new villa s in Washington DC, within spitting distance of the White House, no cottage life for them any more, except maybe as a weekend dive with, why not, a flat in London and another in Wellington plus another in Paris with a view over the Champs Élysées ...
But back home in Long Eaton
From Cranmer Street
To Recreation Street
Echo lonely feet
While between West View
And Westdale
Snails leave their trail
And from Westdale Houses (A and B)
To Wharfedale
Dreamers track their Holy Grail
And from Wilborne House
To Wilne House
Children scratch at a hungry louse
While in Winefield
And Wilstead
Will hugs his ted
And from Windsor
To Wistow House
He blinks like a dormouse
While from Wolesley Houses
To Wroxall Cottageës
The wind soughs gently in the trees
Then dips out of sight
And mind in Long Eaton
One night