This is largely @Konnolsky's fault, but it also has a lot to do with growing up with the fucking Wombles.
Although some might, I can't blame the Wombles for the environmental or left-ish politics I have in me; that's a reaction to my parents, being bullied at school and - mostly - the hideous injustices wrought by Thatcher; but they have apparently given me some hitherto unrecognised urge to visit places.
I suddenly realise that I've already been to Bulgaria & Tobermory. Perhaps now is the time for the rest...
A Wombling world tour would be very, very expensive. To visit the names of the first proper cast list would mean getting to Orinoco, Bungo, Tomsk, Wellington and Cholet in addition to the two I've been to.
It needs a plan.
But then, as well as that first five, there's also Cairngorms, Alderney, Shanxi, Adelaide, Stepney and Obidos from the second series.
Shit. It's a fucking nightmare! Do those even really COUNT as true Wombles?
And then, worse again! There are some really bloody obscure ones; Omsk, Culvain, Yellowstone Boston, Ness, Ross and Cromarty (The Water Wombles, it seems), Botany, Speyer and Heilbronn, Atlanta, and Idaho, Heidelberg, Hohenzollern, Cairns and Perth, Eucula, Dalai Gartok (!) Cousin Tokyo, Hirado, Dunedin, and Great-Great Aunt M Murrumbidgee...
And saddest of all there's poor Nanking. Fancy spending all that nameless time as a young and adolescent Womble, longing for the day when you can go to school having come of age, so you can prove to your Womble sixth-form mates that you're now the big man with your cool new name.
And then imagine arriving at Bulgaria's study, proudly stepping up, convinced the moment of cool adulthood has arrived and randomly sticking your pin in the atlas only to get a name that rhymes with wanking.
What a cruel bloody Womble tradition. The Wombling bastards.
Hmm. I may have over-concerned myself with Wombles.
Make good use of bad rubbish, eh?