A Genealogical Thread.

There’s credible evidence that my male ancestral line came over here from Ireland about five generations ago, and then married into English hill-farming stock before eventually upgrading to publican status in a Victorian industrial town. It probably explains how I manage to have a Gaelic nose attached to a Germanic head. It probably also explains why I’m drawn to alcohol, the land, Irish music, words on paper, and dark hair tied up with black velvet bands.

Strange though it might seem, it was the women who were the tough guys on that side of the family. One of them even received a note in the mail from her husband – postmarked Liverpool – which said ‘By the time you get this letter, I’ll be on my way to America.’ Seems he’d grown tired of being shot at and having his Gaelic nose lacerated by a mightily wielded beer glass, and it further seems likely that I’ve got distant cousins in America. Well, who hasn’t?