The expat post

Urgh. Kitchens. Windows. I know I wanted to do this, but now I'm bedazzled with countertop choices and dread thinking about splashbacks.

Not what I was going to talk about.

If being an expat means living in a country that is not where you're from, then I guess I'm an expat. I've gone from desperately wanting to blend in to being a little insulted if people don't notice that I'm not American. Probably they do notice, but they're being polite and not mentioning it straight away, as if my accent is akin to a facial blemish; a giant zit on my nose or a small freckle beside my eyebrow. I'm told I haven't lost my brogue (how I hate that word), but I think I've probably mellowed my consonants somewhat and gained Yankee inflections, so I don't sound straight off the boat any more. And it's not as if I sounded like the Lucky Charms leprechaun to begin with - something about my South County Dublin accent prompted Londoners to ask me if I was American before I'd ever even been to this country.

But there are certain things about living in another country. The stereotypes, the assumptions you encounter, the things you're out to prove and to beat. Sometimes it's useful to fall back on the image of the drunken Irish: look, I even did it over there in my profile blurb. But I'd rather show people that we can be sober, we can be industrious, we can even be polite, and we don't all swear all the time like Colin Farrell. Parenting makes this doubly so: I want my children to mind their p's and q's, to write their thank-you cards and hold doors open and not litter (and that last is way more important than a thank-you card); not just because they should and because it reflects on us as their parents, but because by extension it reflects on our upbringings and our native country [cue mournful thrum of the bodhran].

Poor kids. That's a bit of a burden. I'm not saying we'll be sending them to step dancing classes next, but I do always tell them to listen carefully when we hear U2 in the Supermarket, because that's their heritage.


Above, a picture of th'auld sod.