Will the Irish ever forgive the English?
Leaving home is the best way to find out who you are. In my case, it’s a muddle. Welsh dad. Irish mum. English upbringing. And I feel pleasantly detached wherever I go. In England, I’m considered Welsh. In Ireland, I’m considered English. In Wales, I’m considered inadequate because I don’t speak the language, apart from the odd term like ‘popty ping’ (microwave). From childhood I’ve been a scholar of English preconceptions about my Celtic brethren. ‘Welsh? Cave-dwellers who love sheep.’ ‘Irish? Bog-trotters who love horses.’ The Irish are preferred, especially by the English upper classes, who are infatuated with Ireland as an abstract concept. But they’re less keen on the
