As the English son of Irish parents, my son is not above playing both sides of the national divide. Among his schoolfriends, he evokes his Irishness for the mild exoticism it provides to his multicultural classmates here in Walthamstow.
When watching Ireland play football or rugby, however, he instantly becomes a diehard England fan. ‘You’re both,’ we told him last month, when he looked dejected after a Six Nations game (such comforts are, regrettably, unnecessary after football matches). ‘You’re English like your friends, but you’re Irish like us, as well.’ ‘Hmm,’ he said, with considered disagreement. ‘You’re actually from Northern Ireland, Daddy, not Ireland.’
