BBJ
Father Of The Forum
Fifty years ago, I emigrated from Northern Ireland to England. Some may feel that using the word "emigrated" is a bit over-the-top. After all, I was just moving from one part of the United Kingdom to another. The language, accents notwithstanding, was the same. The cars drove on the left hand side of the road (as God had clearly intended). We had the same TV programmes (with slight regional variations). There were many more similarities than differences.
Yet, it felt to me as though I were emigrating. I didn't really want to do it (in spite of having my parents and a sister living in Birmingham). I felt I needed to because there were so few decent jobs in Belfast. I got on the Heysham ferry on that Saturday night in October and my heart was heavy. I felt so homesick as the boat sailed out of the port, down Belfast Lough into the Irish Sea.
Actually, it was one of the best things I ever did. It broadened my mind and in spite of a lot of casual racism in the 1960s and 1970s (not nearly so much nowadays), I came to understand that, for all its faults, England was (is) a great country.
My future wife and I met in 1966, were married in London two years later, and, during our seven years in Redditch, we were blessed with three of our six children.
Most Irish emigrants have the idea that they'll return home someday. Very few, comparatively speaking, get the opportunity but we did and we moved to Dublin in 1979. Obviously, Ireland has many failings too but it I think that turned out to be good for us.
Now, of course, we've returned to England for what is a very special chapter in our lives and I do know one thing for sure; when the time comes (next autumn) to return to Dublin, after this almost five year stint in Lancashire, there are likely to be more than a few tears shed.
So emigration worked for me and I hope that my immigration worked for England. I was fortunate enough, during my paid working life always to have had a job, so hope that I made some sort of contribution to society.
But it was not easy to begin with. For the first several months, I was really quite lonely. I was living in Oxford and, every Friday night, I headed to Birmingham to spend the weekend with the folks (and see the Villa when they were at home).
I think that for immigration to be successful, the incomer needs to adopt a "when in Rome" attitude (whilst still being true to her/himself). It was okay to go to the "Harp" on Walford Road on a Saturday night but it would not have been okay to have stuck a petrol bomb on the forecourt of Smith's Imperial Coaches.
The host community (whoever they are!) needs to be prepared to "move up in the bed".
I thought this article in yesterday's IRISH TIMES was very good.
http://www.irishtimes.com/life-and-style/generation-emigration/i-felt-my-irishness-was-dissolving-as-the-years-passed-1.2021596?utm_source=morning-digest&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=digests
Yet, it felt to me as though I were emigrating. I didn't really want to do it (in spite of having my parents and a sister living in Birmingham). I felt I needed to because there were so few decent jobs in Belfast. I got on the Heysham ferry on that Saturday night in October and my heart was heavy. I felt so homesick as the boat sailed out of the port, down Belfast Lough into the Irish Sea.
Actually, it was one of the best things I ever did. It broadened my mind and in spite of a lot of casual racism in the 1960s and 1970s (not nearly so much nowadays), I came to understand that, for all its faults, England was (is) a great country.
My future wife and I met in 1966, were married in London two years later, and, during our seven years in Redditch, we were blessed with three of our six children.
Most Irish emigrants have the idea that they'll return home someday. Very few, comparatively speaking, get the opportunity but we did and we moved to Dublin in 1979. Obviously, Ireland has many failings too but it I think that turned out to be good for us.
Now, of course, we've returned to England for what is a very special chapter in our lives and I do know one thing for sure; when the time comes (next autumn) to return to Dublin, after this almost five year stint in Lancashire, there are likely to be more than a few tears shed.
So emigration worked for me and I hope that my immigration worked for England. I was fortunate enough, during my paid working life always to have had a job, so hope that I made some sort of contribution to society.
But it was not easy to begin with. For the first several months, I was really quite lonely. I was living in Oxford and, every Friday night, I headed to Birmingham to spend the weekend with the folks (and see the Villa when they were at home).
I think that for immigration to be successful, the incomer needs to adopt a "when in Rome" attitude (whilst still being true to her/himself). It was okay to go to the "Harp" on Walford Road on a Saturday night but it would not have been okay to have stuck a petrol bomb on the forecourt of Smith's Imperial Coaches.
The host community (whoever they are!) needs to be prepared to "move up in the bed".
I thought this article in yesterday's IRISH TIMES was very good.
http://www.irishtimes.com/life-and-style/generation-emigration/i-felt-my-irishness-was-dissolving-as-the-years-passed-1.2021596?utm_source=morning-digest&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=digests
