What's in a name?

Tis Sir Guestling again. Who else?
I am today off to what one might call the Thorn's spiritual home. I speak of the village of, yes, Guestling Thorn! Nestling in Sussex, it is situated between Hastings and Rye. And you are correct when you ask if I was named because of the village, indeed I was.
The reason is simple, my Grandfather Randolph Thorn, when a young man committed a rather serious social gaff, which necessitated a brief sojourn away from London life, when a particular family patriarch was intent on visiting much harm against him. Naturally a young lady was involved. The details are a tiny bit sketchy and I never could get the full story out of Grampy but the gist goes something along these lines.
Randolph was, like most of the male line of Thorns, when younger, was a bit of a rake. He had his eye on a young society beauty, who was by all accounts already spoken for and engaged to the son of a wealthy banker, whom her father was desperate to get his family related too. The mans finances had taken a bit of a down turn and he saw this as an opportunity to re-build them. The banker, in turn, was keen on the influence and contacts he had, so a mutual understanding had been agreed.
This mattered not a jot to Grampy, engaged or not, once he had his sights set, he went at his target with a one track mind. Of course he had no conception of the full consequences of his actions and the pact he would destroy by pursuing this girl, he wanted her and he was bound and  determined to get her.
Eventually he manipulated a situation where he could get her alone and once he had, his charm and that devilish twinkle in his eye did the rest. By the time I was old enough to get to know Grampy, though now in his late sixties he still had roguish good looks and a lazer like instinct for spotting a well turned ankle or the sway of the hips, the curve of a well formed female form! All male Thorn's have great respect for women, indeed we revere them and we appreciate their beauty!
Anyway back to the story, his dalliance ruined the match as the fiance of the girl refused to have anything more to do with her after he found out. Her father was so incensed that he threatened to have serious injury done to Randolph and his threat was taken seriously, very seriously. At the time relatives of the Thorns, the Stodards were living in Kent in Guestling Thorn. A small village south of Hastings, it is a pleasant place, close by is Guestling Green and just south of the two Guestling's is Icklesham followed by Winchelsea and then Rye.
The young Randolph was packed off to stay with the Stodards, Bert and Alicia, he did not like the idea but it was better than broken limbs! Bert and Alicia were given strict instructions to keep Grampy on the straight and narrow and not let him return until the whole affair had blown over.
The bright lights of London were left behind and the dullness of country life seemed to be all that stretched before him or so it seemed until on a walk through the village, as he turned a corner a vision appeared in front of him, a girl of stunning good looks, who immediately smiled at him and said hello. Randolph had met his future wife and my Grandmother, Victoria.
They had two children the first, my Aunt, Claudia and a couple of years later my father Albert Cecil Francis Thorn, the names chosen for his father and her mother.
Randolph and Victoria were married for sixty years and although Grampy never lost his roving eye he never strayed from his vows to Grandma.
So you ask how did I become Guestling? Simple really, just before I was expected, in tribute to the village where he met the future Mrs Thorn, Grampy asked a boon of my father, would he name me for that village, to honor his meeting Grandma there, after all, as the name went together so well, it was fate he said. Mother was not so keen but acquiesced after Grampy appealed to her better nature.
And so Guestling is my name and my name is Guestling but then what,s in a name?