NAMES change. Nothing wrong with that. What for the Romans was Eboracum was slurred by the Anglo- Saxons into Eoforwic, then mispronounced by the Vikings as Jorvik and abbreviated by we moderns into York.

However, at least in that case we have the same basic name evolving over time: Eboracum might seem far removed from York, but they are essentially the same word.

There are crueller cases, though, where a new name is plucked out of the air with no attention to tradition.

Such a case is Castle Howard, that was originally known by the far more beautiful moniker Henderskelfe.

Indeed, the site was called Henderskelfe Castle until the catastrophic fire that destroyed the old building in 1693, only then being rebuilt with its new and uninteresting title.

Names are not like people, however. They cannot simply be killed. And Henderskelfe was still being used by locals well into the 20th century: there may even be some pockets of resistance to this day up in the hills.

And where do the various names described here come from? Well, the upstart Castle Howard is not worth many words – it comes from the family that had the castle built, the ancient and revered Earls of Carlisle.

But Henderskelfe, which first appears in the Domesday Book as Ilderschelf, has a far more lyrical and pleasing origin: The-Shelf-of- Land-Where-Alders-Grow.

Indeed, look carefully and you will be able to make out “shelf” in the antique name and there are still alders in the area, at least in the parts where the castle’s noble lawns have not wiped out the trees.