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Date: 2017-02-05 08:19 pm (UTC)
hairyears: (Default)
From: [personal profile] hairyears
My father upset the wrong bishop, in Ireland, in 1957. Twice. He found himself working in an English town where every boarding house put up a sign "No dogs no blacks no Irish".

Fast-forward sixty years, and I look and sound so English that my relatives in Ireland joke about it...

...And I would find it difficult to find work there, with my accent.

My future almost certainly involves working in a European Union where the British will be very, very unpopular indeed.

But not, officially, as a refugee: I am eligible for an Irish passport, which grants me rights of residence, workand voting, in every European country.

Nevertheless, it is an uncomfortable prospect. And there's a future waiting to be born, a rough beast slouching towards Bedlam Hospital, in which British nationalist hardliners make taking up that passport and asserting my Irish Nationality a reason to expel me from the UK.
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tim: Tim with short hair, smiling, wearing a black jacket over a white T-shirt (Default)
Tim Chevalier

May 2017

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