A DAD'S LIFE: Anglo-Irish relationship is akin to squabbling siblings, writes
ADAM BROPHY
'WHAT'S THE big deal with her?" asks the elder, motioning at the old lady on the screen.
"She's the Queen of England. This is the first time she's come to visit us," I reply.
None too impressed, she flicks over to iCarly.
The Queen came and we all had to spend an extra hour in our cars each way to get to work. Some people got mad that she was here. Others got even madder that the first lot got mad at all. Time to move on, the second lot said. You lot and the rest of the bleedin' liberal Anglo-Irish media should move back to England, the first lot replied. And all the while we sat in our cars and stewed.
The only feeling the visit stirred in me was the hope that, if this can happen, my two may be able to sit down and have a civilised cuppa without sneaking in kicks or rabbit punches to the kidneys some day too.
The Queen being here without the smell of cordite in the air is a signifier that engrained, entrenched opinions have altered. A lot has changed here in the last half century, resulting in us feeling, for the most part, no sense of inferiority to the British. Our identity has apparently strengthened to the point that having the British monarch present is merely a traffic issue to most of us.
But has their attitude to us changed? Have they had any reason to change?
Like many people my age, I spent time living in London in the 1990s and, were it not for being made redundant, could quite easily still be there. That was the plan. I was in the process of negotiating a first mortgage and getting great work experience before the chair was kicked from under me. I loved it there. Loved feeling close to the centre of the world, in a city that had the arrogance and right to believe it deserved having the eyes of the world constantly turned towards it. I had the energy for it too, which wouldn't be the case now. London requires you to run hard on the treadmill and keep going if you are to hold its pace.
But what occasionally shocked me were the attitudes and ignorance towards us, their closest neighbours. "Paddy" was thrown around in the workplace, not just on building sites but in nice white-collar jobs too. More people than I would have thought possible had no idea if Dublin was north or south of the Border.
And once, after the 1996 Aldwych bus bombing brought an IRA ceasefire to a close, I learned from one housemate that another housemate had to be talked out of supplying my details to the police. Why? Because I was the only Irish person he knew and he believed we were all involved. He was a business studies graduate and a trainee accountant.
So while our country has had a massive boom that caused us to consider ourselves ass-
kickers of the planet, followed by a barbaric bust that sees us with begging bowls in place again, has anything happened over there to shake up the general attitude towards us? Or do they really give us a second thought, not having had to overcome the bump in the psyche that we had towards them?
The relationship, in many ways, is that of siblings. The UK, the ever feted older child, growing up pressured with responsibility and a need to dominate all around them. On reaching adulthood he wonders how come he hasn't attained the greatness that all those close to him promised he would. Ireland, in the meantime, had to grow up a rebel, forever absent-mindedly battered by his big brother and only acknowledged by those outside the circle for his achievements. As an adult, Ireland is prone to aggression, has a bit of a drink problem and is full of resentment.
The two, now in their middle years, are friends, though on a night out Ireland still has near uncontrollable urges to twat his bro, while the UK often wakes in the morning with a bad head but no clear recollection of who they went out with in the first place. I watch my daughters and see it all happening in microcosm. Then I stick on the news and see us all trying to be nonchalant about God Save The Queen playing in the Garden of Remembrance. The Queen herself unconcerned, wondering what she's having for tea.
Kids, eh? Who'd have 'em?
abrophy@irishtimes.com