backstabbers

72 hours have passed since THAT result.  4 days since I cast my opinion. My feeds and timeline are full of people saying we should calm down. A clear head has me thinking that we just have to skip to the fifth and final stage of recovery; acceptance. The morning has not awoken to find us literally adrift heading to get a better view of the Northern Lights.

And then. 

I'm walking around my local supermarket and someone holds my gaze as we do the shoppers shuffle past the sliced loaves and I find myself thinking what what did you vote? I spot one of those glances from one person to the hijab-ed lady in the milk aisle and I am reminded of the twitter stories of immigrant (I'll come back to this in a mo) people being venomously told they need to book their flights home and journalists faced with the gleeful spewing of the man in the street who is glad that there won't be any immigrants allowed in anymore and his wife who is proud of her country intimating that this means no other should share in it with her. 

And then we hear of the leave voters who have resurfaced with the groggy head of the night's revelry now discover the handsome promises they cuddled up to turns out to have cut and run in the middle of the night, leaving them dazed, confused and pale with the shame of being used.  

Is this what we must expect from now on?

Has the belly of this country been sliced to allow the festering maggots, that have been feeding quietly on themselves, to slither to the surface and infect the wounds that many of us are desperate to nurse and heal?

It could be just my paranoia. But I come from the land of the 1980s where my innocent stroll to school could be littered with racist taunts and people would openly boycott the corner shop because the new owners were Pakistanis (yes this happened and there was much rejoicing when they left). So my ears, eyes and sensitivities are on high alert when I hear that the country that I was born and raised in, educated me, nursed me, enjoyed the working benefits of me, my grandparents and parents, thrust me into the path of an Englishman, saw the birth of my children; that this country doesn't want people like me.

Because I am the child of migrants. I have taught the children of migrants who like me know nothing of their parent's country so this country is their home - this is all we know. The metamorphosis of one generation's culture, language, life in one nation to another experienced by their children has happened in Britain for centuries.

Do people really expect that to change? Overnight? (By the way I am well aware of the plethora of other reasons people voted leave, I'm choosing to focus on this one as it has arisen in my real life timeline.)

Is this the ugliness that we have to raise our kids with now (on top of all the ugliness of scary millennial living that's already out there)?

And anyway, you tell me, how do you spot an immigrant? 

Having already been in denial that this really, really happened and that one day my kid's kids will be studying this week in their history lessons, I am retreating to step two and four : anger and depression.  

Allow it.

 

the anthem factor

There's been a rush of opinion in the media this week regarding the news that MPs will be voting on whether England should have a national anthem separate to 'God save the Queen' recognised as the anthem for the United Kingdom.

Well I've been banging on this bandwagon for aeons, in fact every time I watch a national sporting event you can hear me berating the fact that there is no mention of England (at least in the couple of verses heard around various stadiums) so how are teams expected to be fired up to play at their best for a posh lady in a crown? Some might say that a national anthem shouldn't/really affect your prowess on the pitch but come on... I challenge you to sing the Irish sporting anthem without feeling a surge of pride and the desire to pound your opponents into the ground - even though your only contact with the Emerald Isle is via Craggy Island in the 1990s! 

A national anthem at sporting events is important. Athletes are out there representing their country and it allows the loyal, paying supporters to bond with their team; for that one moment they are one. However, before I start waving flags, England's national anthem issue is an ancient problem that needs resolving. Look at the other home nations: Scotland have their flower as they proudly fight for hill and glen; Wales stand brave and true for their land; Ireland's modern anthem written to encompass players from both sides of the border may not appease political persuasions but at least the effort was made to raise sporting spirits as one nation. The symbolism here of strong athletes marching forwards together is not lost in all three anthems.

Can the same be said of all three anthems that seem to be in rotation for English squads. Firstly God Save the Queen; patriotic yes but singing to make a monarch 'happy and glorious' amidst the throes of submission as she 'reigns over us' will hardly bring about the drive to beat down the All Blacks after the Haka will it? 

Cricket has long since favoured Blake's Jerusalem which does refer to England's green and pleasant land and has the rousing line of 'I will not cease from mental fight' but has a tune reminiscent of church hymns which inspires images of quaint village greens, cucumber sandwiches, vicars and straw boaters; jarring with the rivers of mud heaving with rucks and mauls. 

Then there's Land of Hope and Glory. The flag waving anthem concluding the Last Night of the Proms seems to be a front runner in many polls as the favourite replacement anthem at sporting events. But as a child of the 80s I can't help but be reminded of the sitcom It ain't half hot mum which ended with it being sung in a 'comedy' Indian accent and clearly the reference to Empire with 'wider and wider' bounds being set, I'm not the ancestors of slaves would agree that we should be extolling any 'Mother of the Free'. Free being an oxymoron on so many levels.

So is it just a song to be rolled out at the ceremonial entrance and exit of international sporting events? With a contrast of anthem choices between rugby union, cricket,rugby league, and even the men and women's lacrosse teams differ, I would say no, it's more than that. But I would argue against the daft suggestions of modern pop songs from the likes of Blur, The Beatles or Kate Bush but do agree that if you're representing England then one song should suffice.

This post can also be found on my rugby rookies page

one nation under a groove

Did you watch any of the Commonwealth Games? As a family we were hooked right from the exciting Opening Ceremony to the entertaining Closing Ceremony. What did you think? Full marks to Glasgow I reckon and two fingers to all the miserable lot who compared it with the London 2012 ceremony - come on people, get a grip - like, er think about the budget yeah? Regardless of that it was an enjoyable, funky, loud, bright, earthy, hearty performance. Okay, okay I admit my eyebrows raised in question to the appearance of John Barrowman, but my night was made by the TV heaven combo of Chris Hoy and James McAvoy on screen at the same time.  We have marvelled at some of the amazing feats of all athletes - our favourite moments being Libby Clegg winning the parasport 100m Gold Medal for Scotland, and we all nearly fell off the sofa cheering the England Men's 4 x 400m to victory. I love it that we all sit together and cheer on pole vaulters, swimmers, gymnasts, cyclists and of course rugby teams, mainly from England but often-times from other countries too. A common question from LittleE during these games has been 'Mummy who do we want to win?'; not surprising really since we are a family of nations. Lord knows we were jumping around the living room when Kirani James was sweeping round the 400m too!

But this post is not about watching sport - yes I saw you lot at the back picking up your handbags and about to leave. No, there was a moment during the athletes' parade during the Opening Ceremony when I became very despondent and confused. As I watched the cacophony of nations take their place alongside each other, dressed immaculately and waving flags as though their hearts were about to burst, I realised I had never experienced this level of national pride, ever. As a child I was a devout follower of the England football team and cheered them on to (some) victories, but during the 1980s I would not have considered myself as English, British maybe but not English. As my interest has increased I have cheered many England rugby teams on over the last few years but have only become comfortable waving the St George's cross since the birth of the 3G - half English through their father's heritage. During the Olympics in London 2012 I felt extremely proud cheering British teams on during London 2012... proud to be a Londoner that is. These monumental games were in my city of birth. So just where does that nationalistic pride come from? And is it possible for a person to develop pride in a country that may not always have welcomed their kind?

Born and bred in the UK, I have been raised with some knowledge of my parent's Caribbean home nations of Grenada and St. Lucia, yet I feel no affinity to any one country. Independence in these countries has seen many of a generation raised as British subjects and raised their own families in Britain, strengthen their allegiance to their home nations from colder shores; for some the distance and the time away is too much, and they settle in a kind of apathy to national pride. In days past watching athletes Daley Thompson or Linford Christie wrapping the Union Jack around their shoulders I used to wonder what I would do (in my youthful athletic days), would I be able to wrap a flag around me that had been synonymous with racism and the BNP? Well I never got to find that out because my athletic career waned but the question is raised again when I sit with my family during sporting events. When I see sportsmen and women grabbing their shirt emblems and inconsolable Brazilian crowds in pieces when their team gets battered, I'm gutted, jealous even, that I don't feel a burning pride or over-riding emotion for any particular country. How marvellous it must be to belt out a national anthem and mean every word, as we saw with Charlie Flynn singing 'Flower of Scotland' as he collected his medal? 

I wonder how the 3G will feel about their home nation; about the national anthem(s) that the English sing; about the countries of their ancestors? GeordieLad said he was proud to be English,and whilst it rankled a little (it's hard to wipe out a childhood of racist abuse at the hands of 'proud' English bullies) I understood - why shouldn't he have pride in the country that his forefathers have toiled in, isn't it the same reason that FantasticoDad has in Grenada? That still doesn't help me and something tells me, having reached my 40s it's unlikely I will experience unbridled patriotism, so I am resigned to enjoying the sports, marvelling at the athletes, and feeling a bit 'meh' when the anthems are sung. Are you proud of your country?