My grandfather died when I was about ten years old, and my dad told me that his father always claimed to be Irish. So when, a few years ago, I was able to start tracing my ancestry on line I expected to find a trail of documents leading back to the dear old “Emerald Isle”.
At first, it appeared that granddad was from an Irish family of farm labourers living in Sussex and, in fact, my possible ‘great-grandfather’ was listed on a census as a “ploughboy” with his place of birth being Ireland.
Now granddad did have the appearance of a typical ‘navvy’ when he was ‘out and about’ with his jaunty trilby hat, thumbs in his wide leather belt, and pipe clenched in his teeth as he headed for the local for a glass or two of Guinness.
So, on Saint Patrick’s Day I always tended to remember the old boy and wonder about my Irish ancestors, but I needn’t have bothered, for my later, and much more accurate research, showed that it is unlikely that I have a drop of Irish blood in my body !
Oh, Granddad was born in Sussex and his family can be traced back as far as 1635 without an Irish name in sight, so why he claimed to be Irish is a mystery. Perhaps it was just because this ‘plastic Paddy’ enjoyed being treated to a few free “pints of plain” on this day of the year …
… HAPPY SAINT PATRICK’S DAY …
bigjohn 
