Having taken a visit to the East Midlands region of England last weekend, I was struck by how easily I forgot that I wasn\u2019t in Ireland. The signs were there, but hard to grasp, like a shift in the breeze: drivers diligently stuck to speed limits, front gardens I passed were suspiciously well groomed and the toaster queues at my hotel breakfast were remarkably orderly and lacking in elbows.<\/p>\n
This unusual feeling of being Irish in England is something Hugo Harvey touches on in his column.<\/a> \u201cThe particular anxiety of being Irish in London<\/a> is the proximity of British identity. London is an international city, a melting pot, but the British capital is still the British capital. For Irish people, there might be a nagging fear that if you are not paying attention, you might be assimilated; mistaken for British, or worse, not minding whether you are.\u201d <\/p>\n Making England home is not always straightforward for Irish people. It has often been a place of safety, including for many LGBTQ+<\/a> emigrants. But the Aids crisis brought complexities to this refuge, which are examined in an Irish play that premiered in London last month. <\/p>\n It was created by two Cork natives, playwright Amy Clarke<\/a> and actor Derek Murphy<\/a>, with assistance from the Emigrant Support Programme. It tells the untold true stories of the Irish during the 1980s Aids crisis in London. <\/p>\n We spoke to Murphy<\/a> and Clarke<\/a> earlier this year. \u201cWe are all familiar with the stories, but you never hear about it from an Irish point of view,\u201d Murphy said. <\/p>\n The Irish have been coming and going from England for generations, but Birmingham resident Robert Murphy<\/a> writes of something that took him by surprise: \u201cDespite the strong historic links, many people here seem to know little about Ireland. They often seem to be less interested in us than we are in them. I am not sure why this is. It may be a quirk of the relationship between a small country and a large one.\u201d <\/p>\n It\u2019s something that made him lean in to his Irishness: \u201cI have a newfound enjoyment of Irish traditional music, I read Irish news every day and stay connected with literature,\u201d he writes.<\/p>\n The relationship with the Irish language as a child and as an emigrant is something that London-based Laura Kennedy reflects on in her column<\/a>. Irish \u201cwas entangled in a thick mesh of obligation, Catholicism and citizenship. It was a rote-learned procession of refrains written and recited for exam practice; less a window into a culture and history and more a series of noises you made with your face to pass an oral exam and get out of dodge\u201d.<\/p>\n Now she has begun to learn it again: \u201cIt is pleasant, though, to uncover the secret knowledge I had presumed lost, buried so deep in my mind that it had been abandoned with the muscle memory entailed in how to use a hula hoop. It\u2019s nice to recall that you can recall a fox is called a \u2018sionnach\u2019, and to find the shape of lost words forming in your mouth. It\u2019s nice to be able to lift the weight of a grudge off the shoulders of that angry younger self, and to simply say \u2018itheann an madra mo geansa\u00ed\u2019,\u201d she writes.<\/p>\n Thank you for reading this newsletter. If you\u2019d like to contribute to Abroad email, abroad@irishtimes.com<\/a>, follow us on Instagram<\/a> and sign up for this newsletter<\/a> to your inbox.<\/p>\n