Identity
I can’t remember if I’ve blogged about this before, or if I’ve just always meant to and never got round to it. Actually I vaguely remember some comments so I probably have already. But reading this post from World Without End yesterday and then reading this article by Eliza Carthy just over a week after seeing her and the Imagined Village at Celtic Connections got me thinking about it again. Added to a really interesting Ship of Fools discussion about roots, no wonder I’m pondering and musing again.
Although I am English through and through, since moving north of the border I have felt more ‘at home’ and ‘rooted’ than I think I ever really have in England. I listen to lots of Scottish traditional music and love it, there’s something in it that just touches my soul, and I think I have written before about feeling quite envious of many of the Scottish people who seem to have such a sense of identity and connection to their homeland (I know this isn’t a universal thing, of course, but it is much more noticeable than down south, I have found). If I had my way, I would stay in Scotland forever (with forays into other aspects of my ’soul roots’ like Romania every so often, and extended trips down south to see my folks of course!). I think though that I have felt a bit apologetic and also inferior that I am ‘only’ English, and I don’t think that has necessarily been a positive thing entirely. So when I saw the Imagined Village the other week, I felt really challenged and – for the first time in a long long time – also proud that I have a heritage and that being English is something that can be celebrated as well as something I am vaguely embarrassed about. And I can be proud of being English whilst also echoing (actually not echoing, shouting from the rooftops more like) Eliza Carthy’s most profound “Bollocks to Nick Griffin”. That’s very liberating.
I’d still choose to end up here though – even if we have to move away for a while (depending on work etc). I don’t know that I’d stay in the city, probably not if I had my way. But like there’s a bit of my soul in Romania, there’s a big bit of my soul that just soars here.
Filed under random | Tags: identity | Comments (3)Identity (2)
Jane at Fuzzy Edges said nice things about my entry from a couple of weeks ago (ostensibly about my feelings about not being on the NMC register any more, but more accurately my musings on identity and what gives me a sense of identity). Since Greenbelt I’ve been meaning to blog a bit more about identity, but not quite got round to it. I attended a very interesting seminar by Kathy Galloway from the Iona Community about Scottish identity and spirituality – unfortunately I have mislaid (or maybe left in Luton) the notes I made on my programme so this might be a bit garbled (Shurely not – Ed).
She talked about the stories Scottish people as a nation tell about their nationhood and delved a bit into some of them. For example, stories of permanent victimhood (particularly at the hands of the English), traditions of community and acceptance and democracy, and that sort of thing. She said some really interesting things about that (I really must get hold of the talk and listen to it again), but what I thought was very interesting, and which resonated with me, was how discourses have evolved, so that instead of “we’re not from England”, that has largely morphed in contemporary Scottish discourse into what she described as the more malevolent “we’re not English”. I can really relate to that. I absolutely love living in Scotland, I like lots of the Scottish culture and outlook on life and the fact that I’m living somewhere with a very strong and pronounced sense of shared identity. But ever since I’ve been here I’ve had a profound lack of any sense of national identity myself. I guess because England itself is so diverse – I come from a smallish market town not that far north of Watford (and even though I say I’m from the Midlands, to be honest culturally I’m probably a right southern jessie), so have few of the same cultural referents as, say, someone from a northern industrial city or from rural Cornwall or whathaveyou – it is impossible for two people to say “I am English” and for it to necessarily mean the same thing, whereas the impression I have here in Scotland is that despite large differences in experience between rural and urban areas, between island and mainland dwellers, between those in the Highlands and those in the Borders, still “I am Scottish” has much more of a common meaning.
So, I’ve had this sense of not having a very well-defined identity whilst being here, and am well aware that I have different experiences and cultural referents than my Scottish neighbours and colleagues, but it is different from other experiences I’ve had of being “foreign”. When I lived in Eastern Europe, of course I was aware of being a foreigner, but I had more of a sense of what “being English” meant – maybe that’s because, if I met up with expats, we had the shared sense of being foreign, of seeing the same TV shows, all that kind of silly stuff, as well as similar tales of reactions to culturally unfamiliar situations, so the regional differences that there may have been had we all been in England weren’t so pronounced. But I did feel “English”. In Scotland though, I think more than anything else I feel that my primary identity is not “English”, but rather “not Scottish”. So when Kathy Galloway talked about the malevolence of Scottish discourse referring to not being English, rather than not being from England, that did ring a bell with me. Personally, I haven’t felt any malevolence or anti-Englishness here, quite the opposite (as long as I don’t talk about football – and actually I’d much rather support Scotland than England anyway!) – people have been really friendly, and I absolutely love living here and being somewhere which does have such a strong sense of national and cultural identity.
I think more than anything else this whole “not Scottish”/”English” thing has left me feeling more perplexed than anything else about my national identity. And I think that the constant commuting between here and England that I’m doing at the moment has just added to the bewilderment. It’s got me thinking about the importance of place in our sense of who we are – when I come back to Glasgow I feel really like I’m home, I can be myself here (even though I’m not sure about all the identifiers of “myself” – see above!), whereas the bit of England where HD and I are spending most of our time at the moment because of his work just leaves me feeling, well, nothing much really. Despite having family there (and my own home town, where most of my family still are, is only an hour’s drive away, so culturally it’s actually all very similar and familiar), I have no sense of belonging there, of “fitting in” with the place. It’s like, there’s something about the personality of Glasgow which somehow chimes with my personality (and, I think, with HD’s).
Actually, it’s probably a good thing that I don’t think Luton reflects my personality. That would be a bit sad!!
Anyway – if you didn’t click on the link at the top, do read Jane’s post, it’s well worth a read. I haven’t even touched on the spiritual side of things, but she does, and much better than I ever could. Maybe I’ll have a go in another post sometime.
Filed under random | Tags: identity, nationality | Comments (4)That’s nearly it then …
This afternoon I sent off my form to the NMC (Nursing and Midwifery Council) confirming that I am going to lapse my nurse registration as I haven’t done enough hours work in the last 3 years. All those years of training and then practice, and come the end of next week I won’t be able to do it any more. Not that I’ve done any of it at all for the last two years anyway, and only for a couple of weeks for the year before that, but it still feels really really weird that I can’t say “I am a nurse” or “I am a health visitor” any more. “I was a nurse” isn’t the same really. Being able to say “I am a ….” was a really important part of my sense of identity back in the day, I liked that when I said “I am a health visitor” people (in the UK at any rate) basically knew what I was talking about – “I am a PhD student” doesn’t have the same sense of identity about it, other than with other PhD students (and then tends to elicit a look of sympathy or raised eyebrows rather than the “ahaaa!!” of “I am a nurse”).
I tried to find out about return to practice courses, because once I finish the PhD I do want to go back into some sort of nursing practice. The English NHS number took me to a not-very-helpful call centre, but the woman at the Scottish number was much more helpful. I’ll see what the various blurb they’re sending me says – I need to think about when to apply for a course, given when my PhD money runs out and various other stuff.
Filed under Uncategorized, nursing | Tags: identity, nursing, registration | Comments (8)Phew (I think)
Thanks everyone for the various hoorays and congratulations on the flat. I’m feeling very relieved. Not that it’s 100% certain still – up here apparently the system is that once the offer has been accepted there are 14 days for various legal bits and pieces to be sorted out before it becomes legally binding, and in that time I need to check the vendor’s damp guarantees (there is a weeny bit of damp in the hall) or gain access so that I can get it inspected myself, and (more importantly) sort out my mortgage for definite. Which will involve dredging up my past payslips and bank statements and suchlike which, since the move, have been in a filing system which basically consists of being shoved in a carrier bag and then shut out of sight. I’ve been meaning to sort it all out for months, but now I need to and can put it off no longer, so that will be my riveting afternoon today (along with sorting out all of my uni paperwork so far, which given that it’s only been a few weeks is rather a lot).
Anyway, the flat. Assuming that all goes well and nothing pear-shaped happens in the next couple of weeks, I’ll hopefully be moving in the next 6-8 weeks (which is on average how long it takes up here for things to be sorted out apparently). It’s quite small (I think “compact and bijou” is the estate-agent-speak), apart from the kitchen which is pretty large, and has 1 bedroom. It also has a communal garden, and as I’m on the ground floor I will be able to put pots of plants outside and see them from the kitchen window. I’m also hopeful that nobody will object to me getting a discreet compost bin too. At the moment I’m madly trying to figure out how I’m going to fit a 2 bedroomed house-worth of stuff into a small 1 bedroom flat, I think the main awkward thing will be the piano, and the bookcases. I’ve lots of bookcases (as I’ve lots of books) and was thinking when I was packing up that I’ll probably need more once I get into studying more, but I’m not sure I’ll have much room for any more! It’s looking like every available wall will be covered! There is a little recess in the lounge which I will probably use for the computer desk and a couple of bookcases, so I don’t have to have my study in either the bedroom or the main living area, but I think it will probably be quite cosy.
But I have every intention of having enough space for people to come and visit 
Although I’m feeling relieved, I’m still not letting myself get too emotional about it, and I’m surprised how easy that is – like I was surprised how unemotional I felt when I finally left my house in London. Maybe it’s just because I’m so tired still. And with twenty million other things that also need worrying about *right now* (like starting Russian next week, aargh) I guess I simply don’t have time to get too worked up. I have however decided to name it, as “the flat” seems a bit dull. Currently in the running are “The Stately Pile” (in homage to its vast dimensions) or “Swamp Castle” (a nod to one of my favourite films, and reference to the other places I got surveyed which were sinking into the ground). Any other suggestions also considered.
What I am pleased about is that I can start using my time to do other things than traipse round flats. I’ve been a bit anxious about the fact that I’ve struggled to concentrate on uni work, because I’ve been worrying about housing, and also was a bit disappointed last week that I wasn’t able to go out to the countryside with friends because I had some flat viewings to go to. So yesterday I celebrated by driving up to Loch Lomond (which took an hour from here, but will take less time from the new place) and having a wander round and enjoying the beautiful scenery. I also saw some cracking rainbows, one of which was so close I could almost see its end and felt like I could reach out and touch it – I guess that’s one advantage of living somewhere with So Much Weather.
I started off in a village called Luss, which is where the programme “Take the High Road” was filmed, it made me think of a model village that had been enlarged to almost real life size if that makes sense (actually it’s because the laird of the land in the 19th century pulled down the worker’s turf-thatched houses and rebuilt the village for them to live in, so it’s uniform tiny wee bungalows and tiny wee streets – very pretty). When I get my computer back I’ll put up some photos. After that I went to a place called Balloch, on the southern tip, which has a country park and gardens and lovely views of the loch. In both places I noticed, as I have several times in a number of places since being up here, that the sound of bagpipes would suddenly waft over from somewhere in the distance as if to remind me where I was! It’s really lovely, before I would just think “oh they only get the pipes out for the tourists” (an American colleague of mine used to think they only used to get red double decker buses out in London for the postcards till she lived there and realised they really are the buses people used every day) but no, there are random bagpipers all over the place! It got me thinking about identity – there’s obviously a very strong sense of identity up here, as there is in Wales and Ireland too, whereas as an English person I really don’t have that many things I could point to as the essence of being English. Yes there is some beautiful countryside in parts of England (but not parts that I’m from), but much like London which these days is a melting pot of cultures and nationalities, different regions of England are utterly different from each other but coexist alongside each other. I suppose that’s how I see Englishness these days – aware of and appreciative of other distinctive cultures without having all that much to say about or identify with our own. I tried reading Jeremy Paxman’s book “The English” a while ago to try to make sense of it all, though unfortunately although I really like him as a journalist and news presenter I found his writing style a bit dense and never did get into the book particularly, so I don’t think I’m any the wiser.
Anyway, identity or no identity – at least we’re going to the World Cup (unlike another team who shall remain nameless 
).
I suppose I’m thinking about identity a lot as I do still feel like an outsider here – I’m really glad I’m here in Glasgow, I like it a lot and I love the distinctive culture and chance to be somewhere new and vibrant and different and all the rest of it, but it’s not yet “home”. That’ll come though, I’m not worried, just a bit wistful I suppose.
One thing I’m looking forward to when I move is to get a bit more settled in a church. I’ve been going to my friends’ church round the corner as it’s easier to do that than turn up somewhere on my own, particularly as I never intended staying in this particular location for very long, but I must admit although I have enjoyed the sermons (the minister is very into issues such as justice, fair trade, environmental concerns, ethical Christian living and consistently preaches about them rather than just adding them in as a trendy aside) I have missed the liturgy and familiarity of an Anglican service, as well as missing weekly communion, so I’m thinking about going along to the local Episcopal church next week. I think the Episcopal church up here tends to be a bit higher up the candle than the bit of the CofE that I’m used to, as the Church of Scotland (the Presbyterian church) has largely covered the middle-of-the-road ground that the CofE often covers down south; it’s also a lot less prominent than the CofE (as I believe the CoS is the equivalent of the established church up here, rather than the Episcopal church) and there are much fewer SEC churches than kirks (as the CoS churches are known). I’m still getting used to seeing signs that say “parish church” and realising that they’re not Anglican! There is an episcopal church near-ish to where the Stately Pile/Swamp Castle is, so I shall try it out when I move – it looks interesting from the website, probably a bit higher than I’m used to and they have incense at one service a month. I’m not from a bells-and-smells background so would probably struggle in a church which was dyed-in-the-wool Anglo-Catholic because it seems like such a totally different culture and identity (there’s that word again) from what I know, but once a month would suit me fine – I could learn more and appreciate it but feel that there was still space for me in somewhere a bit more familiar.
There’s also, once a month, an evening service in the city centre led by the Iona community which a few people I know are involved with (or at least occasionally attend). I think I may well start going to that when I’m a bit more settled, that way I can indulge the more “alt.” side of my preferences without moaning that church isn’t pressing all my buttons. I’ve decided that I don’t really have time to get into the student Christian scene (though I understand there is an SCM group at Glasgow) – of course it would be good to get involved, but with the demands on the rest of my life I have to draw the line somewhere. Maybe I’ll pop along sometimes to meetings, but my past uni experience ended up being total immersion in Christian meetings, and I don’t want to do that again – I want to have a life!
Filed under Places, church, home, random | Tags: bagpipes, church, home, identity, Loch Lomond, rainbow | Comments (4)