My name is Priya Nair, and I grew up in Leicester with a mum who called me by three different names depending on her mood. At home I was Priya. At my gran’s house I was Priyanka. And at school, somewhere around age seven, I quietly became “Pri” because my Year 2 teacher couldn’t quite land the vowels. I didn’t mind. But I remembered.

So when my partner Dan and I found out we were expecting, I already had strong feelings about names. Specifically, I’d been turning over the question of eglish names, English names, the ones woven into the fabric of this country, and whether one might sit alongside a surname like Nair without feeling like a costume. I wanted something that felt chosen, not assigned. Something that meant something to both of us.

That search took me down a much longer road than I expected. What follows is what I found.

What “English” Actually Means in a Name

Here’s the thing people don’t often say out loud: English names are not one thing. They’re an accumulation. A palimpsest. Old English names from Anglo-Saxon settlers sit alongside Norman French names that arrived in 1066, Latin names that came with the church, Celtic names that predate the Romans, and more recently names absorbed from centuries of migration and empire. When you look for English names, you’re really looking at a living archive of everywhere England has ever been.

That felt relevant to me. It felt honest.

Names like Edmund, Oswin, and Aldric are genuinely Old English, rooted in a time before the Norman conquest changed everything. Then you get names like William, Richard, and Alice, which feel quintessentially English but are actually Norman French in origin. And then there are names like Cecily, Agnes, and Miles, which arrived via Latin ecclesiastical culture. All of them are considered English now. All of them belong.

[Link: history of English baby names and their origins]

Classic English Names That Have Lasted Centuries

Some names have an almost unreasonable staying power. They’ve survived plagues, world wars, fashion cycles, and the inexplicable popularity of reality television. These are the ones that, when you say them out loud, feel settled. Like furniture that’s been in the family long enough to stop being furniture and start being part of the house.

For girls: Eleanor, Margaret, Catherine, Alice, Cecily, Beatrice, Edith, Constance. These names carry history without feeling heavy. Beatrice in particular has had a quiet resurgence, probably because it carries both intellectual weight (Dante’s muse) and warmth.

For boys: Edmund, Arthur, Henry, Thomas, William, Frederick, George, Oliver. Oliver has been the UK’s most popular boy’s name for several consecutive years, which means it’s either timeless or slightly overexposed, depending on your playground.

Gender-neutral or flexible: Robin, Aubrey, Sidney, Evelyn, Avery, Leslie. These have moved back and forth across gender lines for centuries and continue to do so. Evelyn, for instance, was a male name before it became predominantly female. Sidney has gone both ways depending on the decade.

[Link: classic English names with historical roots]

Underused English Names Worth Reconsidering

This is the category Dan and I spent most of our time in. There’s a whole layer of English names that feel genuinely beautiful but have been neglected long enough to feel fresh again.

Wren. A small bird, yes, but also the name of Christopher Wren, who rebuilt London after the Great Fire. It’s short, strong, and works without a nickname.

Aldric. Old English, meaning “noble ruler.” Almost nobody uses it. It has quiet dignity.

Elowen. Cornish English, meaning “elm tree.” Softer than Eleanor, with an unusual cadence.

Crispin. The patron saint of cobblers and a Shakespearean figure (St. Crispin’s Day, Henry V). Somehow still largely unused despite sounding genuinely lovely.

Isolde. Arthurian legend, Welsh roots absorbed into the English tradition. If you’re willing to accept that people will mishear it as “Isobel” for the first three years of school.

Leofric. Old English, borne by the Earl of Mercia and husband of Lady Godiva. Unusual without being invented.

Rowena. Medieval English, possibly meaning “white spear.” Sir Walter Scott used it in Ivanhoe. It’s musical without being fussy.

[Link: rare and unusual English baby names making a comeback]

Regional English Names: More Than One England

England is not uniform, and its names reflect that. Cornwall has its own naming tradition, with names like Jago (Cornish form of James), Merryn, Kenwyn, and Demelza. The North of England has historically favored different names than the South. Yorkshire, Lancashire, Northumberland all have naming customs influenced by Viking settlement in the Danelaw.

If you have regional roots, it’s worth digging into them. A name from a specific place carries more weight than a name chosen because it sounds vaguely period-appropriate.

My own situation is different. I don’t have English regional roots to draw on. What I have is a life lived here, a partner whose family is from Devon, and a child who will grow up in this country carrying both those things. That’s its own kind of legitimacy.

[Link: regional English names from Cornwall, Yorkshire, and the North]

How English Names Travel Across Cultures

Many English names travel well, as I kept noticing throughout my research. Not all of them, but many. Alice works in French. Edmund has equivalents in German, Scandinavian, and Eastern European traditions. Arthur appears in Welsh, Breton, and across Romance languages. Beatrice is Italian in origin anyway.

This matters if you’re choosing a name for a child who will move between cultural contexts, as many children do now. A name that can be pronounced in multiple languages without distortion is a practical gift.

On the flip side, some English names don’t travel well. Nigel, for instance, is almost exclusively English and will be met