Today, I Became An Irish Citizen, But You’ll Never Guess Why

And no, it’s not because I’m mad…

When I rocked up a year and a half ago to my solicitor’s (lawyer for those in other countries) office, asking him to sign a few mug shots and a document vouching for my good character and authenticity, his first, and I might add very typical Irish reaction was — “Are you mad?!?”. Just to avoid any confusion, “mad” in this context refers to being crazy. How the English language became the lingua-franca, I shall never understand. But moving on from that confusion, it has also been my primary language for over a decade, and one of the drivers to become eventually an Irish citizen.

Since I can remember, I always wanted to leave home and live in an English-speaking country.

First I entertained the idea of becoming a farmer in Kansas, though that was fuelled a lot more by a certain blonde American daughter of a missionary than any kind of interest in farming. Having said that, I consider myself being very good at making the most of any situation, so it might have worked after all. That wasn’t supposed to be in my future, though, as her parents were not just Mennonites but also racist and xenophobic enough to cut short any kind of budding attraction between the two of us.