This Tuesday, I shall be wearing some article of clothing that looks more or less green (in my youth it would have been a tricoloured ribbon), bringing a bottle of Paddy’s whiskey to work and taking a day off Lent – bring on the crubeens, the bacon and cabbage, the Irish stew, the apple tart. I may go to church. I shall sing in some inappropriate venue that fine hymn, Hail Glorious St Patrick.
In short, I shall do my utmost to celebrate the feastday of Ireland’s national saint, arguably the most influential Briton in history, short of wearing some stupid leprechaun’s hat and drinking matcha latte.
