Recently I stayed a few weeks in a small town in Somerset, England called Yeovil, pronounced Yoville. The satellite navigation system in my car, however, was programmed wrong and pronounced it You-evil. To judge from the weekly local newspaper, it might have had a point.
Every week that newspaper devotes a page to short reports from the local courts, the small change of crime as it were (murder, arson and such like made the front page). One of the stories on that page took me back to the hospital in which I worked until my retirement, where I heard such a story, and often more than one such story, every day. The story was headlined ‘Threat to put cat’s head through door.’ I knew at once, without having to read further, that it was a love story – of a kind.