Yorskshire

Something I missed this week is that Tuesday was Yorkshire Day!

The fact that I missed it is probably proof that I'm not a true-blue dyed-in-the-wool Yorkshireman, but I do consider myself part Yorkshire on account that I was born there, lived there for the first two years of my life, had a strong Yorkshire accent (my parents have recordings of me somewhere speaking thus), my Dad's a Yorkshireman, half my extended family if Yorkshire and I value my Yorkshire roots.

Unfortunately, I'm the kind of person who doesn't belong anywhere because when I tell my friends and acquaintances in Wales that I'm really Yorkshire by birth, they tell me that I can't be proper Welsh, even though I've lived in Wales for thirty one years and can speak the language. When I'm in Yorkshire, I simply cannot hide my uber broad West Wales 'boyo' lingo (isn't it?) which means only my family in Yorkshire accept me as 'one of them'.

My goal, however is this; The maternity hospital in which I was born has since turned into an old people's home. Wouldn't it be cool if I could die in the room in which I was born? I would love that! I would really love that!