Patriotic Wallace

Last week I watched England collapse against a pretty poor looking Welsh rugby team. As usual I was in a room full of Irish Taffy supporters, so was happy to root for the English underdog, as it were.

Ordinarily I would be happy enough to join in the banter - taking it as graciously as a Wallace can, but it was too much that day. I found myself feeling some sort of idiotic national pride, something that I abhor in others. I made a poster to put on my door and it made me feel a bit better, although I think the irony may have been lost on some people. I then spent an hour or so brooding over the fact that much of Ireland will never embrace me for who I am, because of my nationality and it made me quite upset and still does.

Ultimately it does say something about a nation who cannot put the past into perspective. On Wednesday this week I was told aggressively ''..my Grandfather fought the Brits'' as if I was to feel guilty for that. I looked over at my German house mate, who grinned back at me and felt glad that for some people the past is just that. Dependence on the past to help define national identity is indicative of an ingrained collective insecurity. HD Thoreau said:

'They love the soil which makes their graves, but have no sympathy with the spirit which may still animate their clay. Patriotism is a maggot in their heads.'

I am glad to say that I am no more patriotic than I was before. I am English though and love the blessed Queen in lots of dirty ways.