So when the news came out, I couldn't wait to tell Mrs PND who, while the family came over in 1820 or so, is still apparently Irish. Well perhaps not. Little did we know that those Spanish sailors marooned on the shores of Ireland in 1588 - thanks mainly to the weather - were actually about to be reacquainted with their long lost relatives. When I told her the Great in Great Britain is more a geographic reference (perhaps it should be 'Greater' Britain) and that we are all related I thought she was going to tear up. Not so fast, she has started to insist I am Irish... Still this bit of DNA revisionism is a story almost as strange as the one earlier in the year about co-joining France and England under the Queen.
To my mind what has been ignored through out the subsequent depressed drunken discussions about our heritage is why on earth our ancestors migrated from Northern Spain. What were they thinking? Why once they suffered through the first dank, dark and damp winter/spring/autumn didn't they high tail it back? We deserve ancestors so dumb. So anyway, in celebration of Sts Patrick, Andrew, George and David day, Mrs. PND dutifully got the corned beef, potatoes and leeks and made dinner. She did not however take my advice and deep fry the meat, boil the crap out of the potatoes and vegies, serve it lukewarm and knock it back with a few tumblers of Laphroaig. All for the best.
Nevertheless, this concatenation of nationalities has its benefits because it will give the English (who remember as a nation rarely win anything of note) that many more chances at glory. And as if to underline the potential rampant opportunities in store, the "Irish" Cricket Team beat Pakistan yesterday in perhaps one of the more noticeable victories ever in a World Cup. Go "Ireland" "Scotland" "Wales" and England!