Congratulations! You may now take your place as a subject of Her Majesty.
"And did those feet
In ancient times,
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
In England's pleasant pastures seen?"
Well, no, but it's a cracking good tune.
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That's it. My mother (German) will never speak to me again if she finds out. My father (Scottish) will be revolving somewhere (his ashes were scattered over a rosebush somewhere in West London)... so there will be a tornado happening sometime soon...
...either that or he'll be back to haunt me. I remember a brief and pointed conversation with him after I'd been on a school trip to France (I must have been about 12 or 13)...
Dad, fiercely: " What nationality did you tell them you were?"
Me, proudly: "Je suis anglaise"
Dad, incensed: "You're not bloody English"
Me, confused: "I was born in England..."
Dad, tersely: "Just because you're born in a pigsty doesn't make you a pig"
Me, getting bolshie: "So what am I then?"
Dad, firmly: "Half German, half Scot"
Me, tearfully: "But I don't know the French for that...."