It's hard to believe it was just over thirty five or so years ago, that my very British grandmother sent her driver to inform my father that if he married my very Irish mother that it would break her heart.
I'm relieved to say he went ahead and married her anyway. And as is so often the way, it was my mother who helped to nurse my grandmother as she battled with and ultimately died of cancer some years ago.
I grew up proud of my Irishness. I’ve watched the outdated attitudes towards the Irish change over the years and as a consequence become prouder and prouder of my nationality. Tomorrow my children will attend their school decked in green accessories of shamrocks and leprechauns. I know they wear them with pride and without a skerrick of the self consciousness with which I had to wear my “Proud to be Irish” labels when I was at school.
As a child I couldn't and still don't understand the numerous jokes made at the expense of the Irish. On our national day of celebration that is St Patrick's Day I used to be wildly angry with school friends who would repeat the jokes with glee. I simply can't think of any other race or religion where they have a national day where jokes and mocking someone's nationality on the basis of their allegedly innate stupidity are an integral part of the celebration.
Time has of course softened this viewpoint and now I see it's part of what it means to be Irish.
After all, we've coped with a fair bit over the past few centuries. Think Potato Famine, think The Troubles, think Michael Flatley. Actually I shouldn't mock Mr Flatley particularly when we shared a liplock some years ago.
The beauty of being Irish is that we can celebrate with the best of them. The success of Lord of the Dance and Riverdance is testament to that. But equally and just as importantly, we can mourn wonderfully well too.
All over the world tomorrow the Irish, and those who wish they were Irish will celebrate. The day will begin with music, dancing and joyous celebrations. And the day will end with reflection and tragic songs of woe and sorrow: "The Town I loved so well" anyone? And everyone and anyone is welcome into those celebrations.
Because the beauty of being Irish is that we know how to celebrate life and death.
And we aren’t stupid.
Waterproof teabag anyone?
Sláinte chugat