When I drive into Wiltshire from the west, somewhere near Dead Maids, I always see a friendly sign proclaiming "Wiltshire Welcomes You!" Glancing in my rear view mirror, it is hard not to imagine a ghostly retort on its reverse: "Somerset Says 'Sod Off!'" Nor do we stop there, though further back the cries of the counties grow fainter: "Devon Says 'Get Off Moy Laand!'" drawls dimly across the winter fields. And beyond Dartmoor, tumbled in Tamar's tide, I hear a drowned mermaid lisping, "Emmets Go Home!"
