I'm one of a minority. I'm English as far back as the 16th century on both sides of my family, not a drop of Irish, Welsh, Scottish or anything else, and Lancashire English to boot. Do you realise how it feels to be me? No one speaks up for us pure-bred Lancashire English. No one celebrates our patron saint (St John-Willy of Ramsbottom), respects our Lancashire English traditions (whippet racing and chip-guzzling etc.) or even accepts our National Dress (clogs, a thick muffler and Thermogene sewn into the vest from October to April).
We had a representative in the House of Commons once upon a time, the revered and very large Cyril Smith, but as he was a Liberal nobody ever listened to a word he said and that London lot said they
couldn't understand a word he said so it didn't do us much good.
There are many Lancashire English around today who are
not pure-bred. Oh they'll tell you their dad was born in Ossy and their granddad hailed from Walton-le-Dale but they won't mention the granny who came from County Wicklow or the great grandfather who started life in Peebles.
It's not easy being a Minority and we are a dieing breed. I have to admit to being a traitor to my origins - I married a Yorkshireman whose ancestors came from Goole (definitely a touch of Viking blood there - I had the devil's own job trying to keep him from pillaging small settlements on the North Yorks moors) so my children are all half-breeds, and not one of them born in Lancs either.
You are what you are and what you're comfortable with. Right?
